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bbyheedeungie · 3 years

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Fluttering Machinery | Robot! Sunghoon AU

Genre: Fluff, mild angst

Pairings: Robot! Sunghoon x Reader

Warnings: Character death, little suggestive content

Synopsis: Sunghoon was a humanoid built by your father, with the sole purpose of taking care of you once he passes away. But it seems like taking care of you came with discovering emotions that wasn't necessary for cooking, cleaning, and keeping you safe. What is this warm fuzzy feeling that resonates deep inside Sunghoon's mechanism?

It's been months. 6 dreadful months since your father has passed away. The doctors have warned you that he didn't have much time left, but that didn't make the goodbyes hurt any less.

You were 4 years old when your mom left you and your father for another guy. A more successful guy. Your father was bright, with an insatiable hunger for discovery and invention. But his field of work didn't always bring food to the table. And so on most days you had to, well, compromise.

But you loved your father so much, and still do. Although you didn't grow up to be a scientist like him, you knew the basics on automation and robotics. You were 11 years old when you first saw it, the humanoid that he worked on for years came to life before your own very eyes.

He had no skin nor face that made him look human yet. Just a chunk of metal with a head, arms and legs that moved mechanically. Nevertheless, you will never forget the joy and pride in your fathers' face as he watched his creation. The humanoid was a work in progress and you knew one day he's going to change the world. Unbeknownst to you, he was going to change your world.

And now here you are, years into the present as you stood infront of the humanoid who had his eyes shut. Yep, he's a he now. He is Humanoid SH-1282. Your father made him for the purpose of serving the community, to help people. But when he discovered his illness, he started making alterations to his design. He made SH-1282 to serve as the perfect companion, but only to you.

He filled the humanoid's hard drive with everything that he'll need to help you and take care of you. He input cooking, cleaning, and even martial arts. You sighed, remembering your father's last words.

"I'm gonna leave him in your care now, err leave you in his care or whatever. Take good care of each other okay? I love you both so much."

You were such a crybaby, holding on to your father's arm as the nurses were ushering you to wait outside because the doctors are about to perform surgery.

"You'll be okay." Your father mouthed as he smiled knowingly in content.

You reach for the humanoid's neck to find the power button, finally deciding to activate him after holding it off for months.

You held your breath as his eyes open, immediately scanning his surroundings. His eyes land on you, a smile forms on his lips.

"Hi, I'm SH-1282. It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N." He said naturally, offering his hand. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was a normal boy.

You let out a shaky breath as you accept his hand. He frowns, it seems like he is studying your facial expression and posture.

"You seem like you are in distress. Are you alright?" He asks in concern.

"Yeah, I am." You reply weakly.

"Will a hug improve your mood?" He asks. He was programmed to know about the benefits of physical intimacy, but he was also programmed to know consent and so he will not do anything unless you want to.

You contemplated, biting your lip.

"No, thank you." He simply nods, stepping out of his charging port.

"Will you show me around the house?" He asks and you nod.

"Damn this feels so awkward." You think to yourself.

"So here's the living room." You say as SH-1282 takes a good look around the area, his eyes falling to the dirty coffee table with tons of papers stacked messily. The couch looked greasy, with breadcrumbs stuck to the sides of the couch cushions. He scrunches his nose, involuntarily adding a new emotion to his database: disgust.

And as you led him to the kitchen, this emotion intensifies as he sees the containers of Chinese takeouts and cup ramen littered around the counter. He walks to the fridge and finds it empty except for a carton of milk that you put into your cereal for breakfast.

This awakens another emotion for the humanoid, frustration. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he contemplates on what to do with the mess, aka you.

"This won't do. You have been living unhealthily which may reduce your chances of living a long life."

You scoff, "Excuse me?" He gives you a dead stare, an eyebrow raised.

"No, excuse me while I clean up all this. I'll leave you to your own devices, thank you for showing me around today." He says sassily as he goes to find where you hide your cleaning utensils. You stood there dumbfounded.

"Unbelievable." But you let him be anyway. He wasn't wrong, you've been a total mess this past few months but that was all because of the grief. You basically had no family now.

And so for the rest of the day, you lock yourself in your room and do homework. About 5pm, you hear a soft knock at your door.

"Hello, it's me. Can you spare me a minute? I have something to ask of you." You inwardly groan, not really wanting to face the humanoid.

"Can you accompany me to get groceries? I swear this will only happen one time. It is only because I am not yet accustomed to my location. But after I mentally note the directions, you won't have to come with me next time." He didn't really want to bother you, but he knew that going out by himself and getting lost will be much more bothersome for you.

"Sure thing, just let me change into— oh no, you have no other clothes. It's kinda chilly outside today." You mentally facepalm yourself. Why didn't I go shopping for men clothes first before activating him?

"That is fine, I am immune to any temperature." He says as-a-matter-of-fact. You roll your eyes.

"I know that but people will probably get suspicious to see a man walking around in a shirt and jeans when everybody else has coats on. We need you to fit in as much as possible."

You search for your father's old coat that you refused to throw away even months after he's passed.

"Sorry dad, but he kinda needs this right now." And so you dress the humanoid in your oversized university sweatshirt (which surprisingly fits him perfectly) and your father's old coat.

"How do I look? Will I fit in now?" He asks as he scans his appearance in the mirror.

"You look—" absolutely breathtaking. You had every urge to slap yourself. Your father really didn't play around when he made the humanoid's face. He could pass up as an idol. And the cute little mole on his nose was a good addition to his features that made him even more realistic.

"Great. People won't suspect a thing."

The two of you head out. Contrary to your expectations that he would marvel at everything he sees outside, he just casually looks around. You ride the bus together, and the humanoid processes everything that you do, noting how everything works.

What caught you by surprise though, is how he immediately stands up in instinct to let an old lady sit down in his place. He sure was programmed with manners and chivalry. You smiled at the thought.

You made your way inside the grocery store, only intended to grab a basket but the humanoid insisted on a push cart.

"We have so much to buy, I've taken a mental note of everything we'll need." You simply roll your eyes and let him push the cart around as you wandered behind him. You look around as he reads the nutritional facts of every single thing he sees.

"This is definitely going to take a while." You muttered.

"Y/N? Is that you?" A voice squealed. You hissed and attempted to turn away, pretending you didn't see her. The humanoid saw how you reacted and swiftly rushed to your side in a protective stance. The stranger eyes the humanoid, her eyes sparkling at the sight of such a gorgeous man.

"Why hello there. Y/N you didn't tell me you've been busy with your boyfriend, we haven't hung out in a while." Both of your eyes widened at the misunderstanding.

"Oh, no he's not— we aren't—" You tried to explain but she just laughed out loud.

"Look how flustered you are. You know what, it's okay. But we have a lot of catching up to do!" She said, squishing your cheeks in a playful manner.

"So what's your name, handsome stranger?" She asks, turning to the confused humanoid.

"I'm S—"

"Sunghoon! His name is Sunghoon." You blurted out. Sunghoon was the name of your childhood crush when you were like 7 but that'll have to do. Unfortunately, it seems that the humanoid got even more confused.

"I am Y/N's—"

"Neighbor. He lives next door to my apartment. I was just showing him around because he just recently moved into the city." You say quickly. She can't know that you're living with a guy. Even if said guy wasn't human.

"Awww how sweet of you to go shopping with your neighbor." She said, winking at you. She's definitely not convinced.

"I'm Yeonmi, Y/N's friend." She introduced, offering her hand to Sunghoon. He took her hand reluctantly.

"You mean my super obnoxious friend." You roll your eyes.

"Shut up, you love me." She teased. Admittedly, you've been avoiding her for months now. Ever since your father passed, it was as if you didn't want to deal with anyone anymore, with the fear of being left behind again. So you shut everyone out. You know it was a very selfish move and must've made everyone worry, but you have yet to figure out how to fix things back to how it is.

You said your goodbyes not without a long, tight hug from Yeonmi and Sunghoon noticed from his scanners how your vitals greatly improved from it. This made him feel another new emotion: relief. He was very thankful for your friend who made you feel better.

You continue venturing down the aisle of food, and you find the humanoid smiling to himself. He notices your attention on him and he shakes his head, as if shrugging his thoughts off.

"What?" You asked.

"You gave me a name. Although I'm unsure if it is necessary, thank you." He says genuinely as he smiles at you, your heart skipping a beat.

"You're welcome, Sunghoon." You smiled back.

He picked up lots of fruits and vegetables, with you whining the whole time. Your whines unlocked another emotion of his; annoyance.

"No wonder her father thought she is in need of taking care of, she acts like a child." He concludes, running his fingers through his hair as he lets you get an ice cream of your choice. Oddly, seeing a bright smile on your face as you show him what flavor you got seems to put him at ease.

The two of you got home at dawn, with quickly stacking up the groceries into the cabinets and fridge, with you slumping down on the now squeaky clean couch.

It had been quite a long day and you found yourself dozing off. You woke up from the light tap on your shoulder, eyes fixating on Sunghoon with your apron wrapped around his torso.

"I could get used to this." You thought, admiring how adorable the humanoid looked but quickly pushing the thoughts away.

"Sorry to wake you, it's time for dinner." He announces and you lazily nodded, not before yawning and stretching your arms.

"Uhh, what is this?" You asked, eyeing your plate.

"It's your dinner." He says nonchalantly, expecting you to start eating. Your face shows utter disgust at the plate of vegetables.

"Please don't make me eat that." You begged. Sunghoon rolls his eyes; a trait he adapted from spending just a day with you.

"Don't be dramatic, vegetables are good for you." He states, taking the plate from you and attempting to feed you.

"Come on, say ah." He says playfully. After realizing how much you acted like a child, he researched on how to take care of children and downloaded it into his database. You scrunch your nose, leaning away from the food and shooting him a glare.

"Sunghoon, I'm not a kid." You deadpanned.

"Oh, but you won't get your ice cream if you don't eat this." He says, pouting at you teasingly. He's really good at this. With a sigh, you open wide and allow him to feed you.

"Yep, definitely a kid." He thinks to himself as he smiles in satisfaction, another emotion unlocked.

That night, you decided to move his charging port (with his help) from the lab into the spare room of the apartment.

"You know, I'm completely okay with staying at the lab." He reasoned but you quickly hush him.

"Nope. That is no way to treat a person. You deserve your own room, okay? A room that you can fill with your own stuff and decorate with your own preferences. End of discussion." You sassed as you fix his charging port into place. Sunghoon blinked at you, unable to express how grateful he is of how kind you are to him.

"She wants to treat me like a real human being." He thinks, his mechanical heart overwhelmed with gratitude.

Days went on with a routine, with him cleaning all day and you attending online classes. There were occasional bumps in the road, with you getting annoyed with how much of a neat freak he is and him getting irritated with how lazy you are at taking care of yourself. You've also taught him how to watch tv, deciding not to let him use the internet yet because he might gain too much unnecessary information online.

And so on a saturday night, you sat together on the couch as you watched figure skating competitions. Sunghoon was at complete awe the whole time, studying how the skaters moved through the ice.

"I want to skate too." He states absentmindedly, attention still on the television. You smiled, thinking how it was the first time he actually said he wanted something.

"Then let's do it, let's go skating tomorrow." You say, his head immediately shot to you.

"What, really?" Sunghoon asks in disbelief, his eyes widening.

"Yes, really. Although I'm warning you, I don't know how to skate." You laughed, with him chuckling as well.

"Then we'll learn together." He promises.

What a total lie that is. He didn't need to learn, as you watched him move swiftly against the ice, the wind in his hair as he circled around, his focused eyes twinkling in the fairy lights. He looked ethereal. You could have sworn there were tears there as you cheered him on like a proud momma. Ah, they grew up so fast.

People at the park also stopped to watch Sunghoon, whispering about how talented the young man is. His eyes caught yours, and you weren't sure if you were seeing things but you thought you saw him send you a wink and smile.

"The TV been teaching him things." You muttered, blushing but not from the cold. Sunghoon skates towards you, pulling you with him. You're eyes widened in fear.

"N-no Sunghoon I can't—" but he was already leading you through the ice, eyes never leaving yours.

"You can." He whispers, taking you by the waist as he spun you around. You giddily laughed as you threw your arms out, savouring the chilly air. You didn't even notice the people watching and cooing at you as some joined in as well.

That night, Sunghoon felt something he never felt before, and you in a long time. You felt happy.

"Say aaaah~" Sunghoon said as he fed you chicken soup. You caught a cold from skating yesterday and now you're wrapped in a super cozy blanket with Sunghoon worrying about you.

"You know I can feed myself right?" You said, swallowing the food.

"I know, but I just feel responsible because I was the one who wanted to skate. You got sick because of me, and that kinda defeats my purpose because I'm supposed to be keeping you healthy." He rambled. You roll your eyes at him.

"Colds are normal, okay? Besides, I haven't had that much fun in a while. Thank you for that, Sunghoon." You say, reaching up to tussle his hair playfully. He froze, cogs in his mind unable to process as something inside him stirred, but in a pleasant way.

"So you dance while rubbing your body on a stranger?" Sunghoon questions, but he's not sure if he wants to know the answer. Tonight, you wore a simple black dress that teasingly showed a little bit of cleavage and a decent length of fabric that hugged tightly around your upper thighs but had a daringly high slit. Sunghoon approves and disapproves at the same time.

"Yeah, it's kinda like that. But don't worry, I won't be doing that. I'll just stay by the bar the whole time." You reassured as you struggled to put on your strappy heels. Sunghoon kneels down infront of you and helps you clasp the straps around your ankles, handling it very delicately. Your heart thumps as he looks up at you.

"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?" He asks for the fifth time as he follows you around the house like a puppy. You sigh, actually considering it. Although it was supposed to be a girl's night according to Yeonmi, you thought maybe having Sunghoon tag along wouldn't do harm.

But it did. It did harm to you, alright. And you wanted to harm those girls who kept on grinding their asses onto Sunghoon as slow, sexy music played. You were fuming, regretting dressing Sunghoon in such fashion that screamed big D energy. Why am I being so possessive? But then again, Sunghoon does look uncomfortable. I should go save him. Yeah, I'll do that.

"Hold my drink." You tell Yeonmi as you made your way to Sunghoon.

"You go girl! Get your man!" Yeonmi cheered drunkly.

Your train of thoughts were blurred by the alcohol as you struggled to walk straight. You had only one clear thought in mind: Sunghoon. I need to get to Sunghoon.

Sunghoon stood uncomfortably, eyeing the girls who rubbed their bossoms and derriere all over him. Is this supposed to be fun? He thinks innocently. He sees you walking towards him, swaying your hips side by side as you strode towards him like a predator.

Girls hovering around him going unnoticed as you were the only one he could see.

Stunning, beautiful. He thought.

"Hey handsome, care to dance?" You asked, pulling him to you before he could even answer. The girls spat at you, telling you to 'get in line' but you just shot them a smug look.

"Sorry ladies." Sunghoon apologized, but his smile told otherwise as he let you pull him away from them.

"You don't know how badly I wanted to get away from—" He froze in his spot as you wrap your arms around his neck, inching closer than ever before. You felt bold, but maybe that was just the alcohol in your system. And as you started moving your body against Sunghoon, you knew it wasn't just you who felt the heat. His large palms go down south, resting on your swaying hips as both of you moved to the sultry rhythm.

His mechanism was going nuts, threatening to malfunction as his sensors detected your very close proximity to him. Whatever you were playing, it was dangerous. But Sunghoon couldn't help but to want more, to desire more.

"Y/N." He whispers, and you look up at him with half lidded eyes. And damn did he find you so sexy right there, under the strobe lights. No girl in the club could ever compare.

"Home?" You suggested.

"Home." He agrees.

As you got in the cab, you immediately find yourself half straddling Sunghoon's lap as you attempt to kiss him. Luckily, Sunghoon can think clearer now and concludes that a drunk Y/N is a very horny Y/N. And though the thought that it was only the alcohol that made you want him made him feel sad, he knew it was wrong to demand such things from you.

And so with your futile attempts to get into his pants, he gently lays your head on his shoulder and hugs you to keep you still. But even that couldn't stop you from squirming to get away from his hold, trying to get some action. He chuckles as he held your hand tightly in his to prevent it from landing into his crotch.

"Now now, you have to stay put. I won't be taking advantage of your state." He scolds gently. And by the time the cab had stopped in front of the building of your apartment, you were fast asleep in Sunghoon's arms.

Times like these were when Sunghoon is glad he was made of aluminum. He scooped you up in his arms like a pillow as he walked up to your apartment. You snuggled up into his chest, looking so innocent as you soaked up his warmth. Sunghoon cooed about how adorable you are, talking to you in your sleep.

He placed you delicately on your bed, contemplating whether to change your clothes or not. He decided not to, noting how your privacy is important to you. You're too drunk and asleep to give him permission right now anyway. He took off your heels and wiped your makeup off very gently, and tucked you in properly.

Long minutes pass as he studies your face, stroking your hair softly as the corners of his mouth lift up unconsciously. He really loves taking care of you. He loves you.

This realization hits him like a truck of overwhelming emotions, but it all makes sense to him now.

"I love you, Y/N." He whispers, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead before retiring to his own room.

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bleachhaven · 3 years

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Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 5/6

Author’s Note:

It should be noted that this story is almost coming to a close...I’m sad to stop writing about Shunsui but it’s time to wrap this one up. So there’s maybe 1 or 2 more parts left.

Warning: A bit of smut ahead. One can only be seduced endlessly for so long without something happening about it.

–

Read Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 and Part 4 first!

Uncharacteristically, Shunsui was late to arrive at the office. It was almost ten in the morning when he finally strolled in. Nanao would have admonished him without a thought but the dark circles beneath his eyes revealed he had already had a terrible night. She didn’t want to make it a terrible morning as well.

Shunsui didn’t have the excuse of drunken debauchery at some late night party for his tardiness. The last party he’d been to had been Lisa-chan’s Valentine’s Day celebration and that was over two weeks ago.

It was more or less about how his loneliness and melancholy had kept him up late into the night. Something he definitely didn’t want to burden sweet Nanao-chan about.

He had found himself strolling randomly in seireitei at around three in the goddamn morning because simply staying in his bed staring at his ceiling felt impossible. He didn’t have these kind of difficult nights too often but when he did have them, they were quite terrible.

Sure, he missed Juu. But his loneliness was a bit more than that this time.

It has been over two weeks since he had received anything from his beloved Secret Admirer. Fourteen whole days of complete silence from her was quite unusual, and he felt it acutely. Where was she?

The darkest of thoughts had plagued him at night. What if she was sent on a dangerous mission? What if she had been injured? He hated to think it...but what if she was never coming back? Hadn’t he honestly lost enough?

The thoughts spiraled as the evening progressed into the wee hours of the morning, growing darker and more melancholy.

He knew he was not the greatest catch in the Soul Society. That title fell to Byakuya, uncontested. Shunsui was older than everyone in seireitei - a thousand years too old, he’d say. He was nobility too but he wasn’t one to truly fit into that mould, which deterred most noblewomen from considering him.

He wasn’t what one would call conventionally handsome either. He knew he wasn’t ugly...but he wasn’t exactly...whole. Not anymore. Maybe once he would have held some appeal and he had many lovers who thought him handsome enough to have a tumble with him... but the eyepatch never failed to remind him that he was never going to be good looking, by anyone’s standards, with a goddamn hole in his face.

Most days, none of this would honestly bother him. But last night it did.

His beloved Secret Admirer probably came to the conclusion that he wasn’t worth all the trouble after all. Surely, there had to be a reason why he had never been able to have a long term relationship. He blamed it on his job but...was that all it was? Maybe he was just not meant to have a happily ever after with someone.

As romantic as he was, he didn’t really believe in the concept of happily ever after. He knew relationships were work. It was a commitment between two people who cared about each other to work on staying together through whatever. With time, he had put any thoughts of a relationship on the back burner. With his duty to the Gotei 13, and his responsibilities as well as the added burden of maintaining his reputation as the Soutaicho...it was a practical choice.

But his Secret Admirer had made him want. Had made him yearn for a happily ever after for himself in a way he never had before.

He wanted to be loved and cherished as much as he wanted to love and cherish that one special person in his life. But did he really deserve it?

He knew it was her silence that had his latent insecurities rising to the surface keeping him up at night.

So as sleep deprived as he was, he came to the office with a plan. He couldn’t bear her silence anymore so he was not going to. With everything that had come up in the office, he hadn’t been able to finish up the letter he had started to write to her. At that time, it had felt futile considering there was no way to send it to her.

But he had a brilliant idea. He would have it published in the next installment of the Seireitei Communication including just enough information so that she would know it’s him while withholding enough details to still keep it anonymous. He could trust Hisagi-kun to be discreet.

He had a plan, and it could actually work!

If only he could actually find that bit of lavender paper he had left on his desk.

“Nanao-chan, did you remove anything from my desk by any chance?” he asked, opening up drawers and bending down to check under the desk.

Nanao looked up from the training schedule she was working on. “Nothing more than the usual paperwork. Why what have you lost now?” she asked with an overexaggerated sigh.

“My, my, Nanao-chan. You make it sound like I lose things on a daily basis.”

“The only thing lost on a daily basis around here is my sanity,” she said, rolling her eyes. Still she relented. A distressed Taicho always meant a distressed Nanao. “Fine. Describe it to me and I will tell you if I saw it anywhere.”

“It was nothing official. Just a bit of lavender paper I had been writing on…” he trailed off seeing the look on her face. “What? Did you see it?”

“You lost the letter you were writing to you Secret Admirer?” she asked.

“Nanao-chan! How did you…?”

“You forget, Taicho,” she said quite matter of factly. “There’s nothing that goes on here I don’t know about. But I haven’t seen it. Maybe it got mixed up in some paperwork and got sent to another division. I don’t think anyone would recognize your flowery handwriting which you reserve for your personal correspondence anyway. So nothing to worry about.”

Shunsui simply stared at her. He has known his little fuktaicho for too long to not notice that something was off. All this time, he thought she was just laughing at his expense because he was mooning over someone he didn’t even know. But now...that look...the way she said it without even having to think about it...it all felt fishy somehow. Nanao-chan was up to something.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she huffed, correcting the papers on her desk that didn’t need correcting. A nervous habit that always gave her away. “If you don’t have any serious work, I have a pile of forms…”

“You know perfectly well who it is, don’t you, Nanao-chan?” he interrupted her attempts to distract him.

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Please, Nanao-chan. It’s perfectly obvious you know exactly what I am talking about. Just...tell me…” he said.

He was so serious and intent. Nanao had only ever seen him like that in the heat of the worst kind of battle. She dropped her pretenses as well.

“She and I have both left enough breadcrumbs for you as it is. So if you’re so desperate to know who she is, why don’t you do the work to actually find out?” she asked him. “Clearly the girl cares about you but is terrified to approach you. Who wouldn’t be considering who you are and the position you hold. She is a nice girl, Taicho. But as things stand, she wouldn’t be the one to approach you so maybe you should find out for yourself who she is and do the approaching.”

So Nanao did indeed know who his Secret Admirer was. He understood her reasons why she couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t really her secret to divulge. Shunsui had to respect that despite his desperation.

“Is my sweet Nanao-chan giving her taicho dating advice?” he teased instead.

“Yes, I am,” she declared with a raised brow. “For even I can see how far you’ve fallen that you need advice from me to get yourself a date!”

Shunsui gasped, buying into the friendly teasing. “Nanao-chan is so mean to her taicho!”

Finally, they both got back to work, but Shunsui’s mind was still thinking about what Nanao had said. Apparently breadcrumbs were laid out and he hadn’t even noticed! He clearly had to pay more attention.

He tried to outline the facts in his mind.

The letters were always lemon scented. It could be a shampoo or some kind of scented cream...but it smelled fresh, almost as if unintentional. Something to further ponder upon.

The gifts were always elaborate but simple and he hadn’t been able to trace it through any vendor. The chocolates were handmade so his little Secret Admirer was probably very good with cooking and baking.

The handwriting was very distinctive as well. Especially the way she looped all her Ls and Bs with a distinctive flowy curve.

So far, the facts didn’t fit well into place to identify her as anyone he knew...but somehow, it felt like it was just barely within reach now. As if it’s only missing one final puzzle piece for the whole thing to come together.

That night, sleep evaded him once more. He couldn’t deny it. He missed her! He couldn’t help but wishing that she was right next to him, romancing him with more than just her words. He wished he could cherish her in all the ways he desperately yearned to.

He took the letters he kept at hand in the drawer of his bedside table. He found that he liked to read them sometimes, and no matter how many times he read her words, they still managed to make him feel things. The shape of her words, the texture of the paper...it comforted him.

However, the sensual seductive ones were his downfall.

With all the time he has been alive, and all the experience he’s had, one would think he would be able to resist the temptation. But he often couldn’t.

Reading those letters, describing how she wanted to make love under the moonlight or how she yearned to taste him...it had him imagining soft feminine hands touching him. His hand would unconsciously reach into his hakama of its own volition and grasp his manhood, wondering what it would feel like to be touched by someone who ardently wanted to please him.

It wouldn’t take him too long at all. He would cum, gasping into the empty bedroom, wishing he had a name he could moan. Wishing she was here for him to hold.

Sated, he’d finally fall asleep. Yet though his body was satisfied, his mind wasn’t. He couldn’t help but feel alone on this big empty bed.

That coveted final piece of the puzzle arrived as, of all things, more paperwork. He was mindlessly flipping through some reports after lunch the next day when it popped out at him like well-lit beacon.

It wasn’t anything special. Just a request for more funds to be allocated for a better training ground for the 13th division. Except it was filled out by his beloved Secret Admirer. The handwriting screamed her identity at him, looping Ls and Bs and all.

“_____-san,” he whispered to himself, wondering how he could have missed it.

Suddenly, everything was perfectly crystal clear.

Everyone knew that while Kuchiki Rukia settled in enough to pick her own fuktaicho, the 3rd seat of the 13th was acting in that role in an unofficial capacity, putting her in-charge of all the paperwork coming and going from that division. A reason why she was always showing up at the 1st...giving her ample opportunities to learn his habits well enough to leave behind those delightful missives without ever getting caught.

The lemon scent was from all the lemonade he knew she made for her division and for some special occasions in the seireitei. It was her specialty, a way of creating comfort and homeliness for her subordinates. He had tasted her chocolates twice - once at the Valentine’s Day party itself and then when she gifted them to him specifically. Both facts which had been pointed out by Nanao-chan while _____-san stood right next to him. No wonder she had flushed red then. It hadn’t been out of embarrassment but possibly from thinking she might get caught. The little minx.

He couldn’t help but remember every encounter he had with her in the recent past. Her cute blushes...the way she gasped out “Soutaicho!” Come to think of it, every time he saw her, he felt like she almost called him Shunsui out of habit only to change it to his official title at the last minute. He even recalled the twinkle in her eyes every time she looked up at him.

He couldn’t believe it. He finally knew who his Secret Admirer was and she’d been right before his eyes, had he only known where to look. He couldn’t help smiling, thinking about all the ways he would get back at her for running him around in circles. He would torture her so, so deliciously…

“You have that dopey smile on your face. Should I be worried?” Nanao asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm…? Of course not, Nanao-chan,” he said, not really reassuring her at all. “I am heading out. Be back soon!”

“Taicho!” she called out but he was already gone.

...to be continued.

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omgitsshrimp · 3 years

Text

[SPOILERS from Manga!] Attack on Titan Theory: The baby was NOT PLANNED.

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!! IF YOU’RE ANIME ONLY SKIP THIS POST!

I thought I’d share my own theory on the whole situation with Eren and Historia. Keep in mind this is just my opinion/interpretation of everything so far. I just want to get my two cents in.

I know suggesting that the baby isn’t planned sounds nuts, but hear me out. In Ch 130 we’re shown panels of Eren and Historia discussing the military’s plans for her, Eren telling her his plan, and Historia discussing a baby with Eren.

In one panel, Historia is standing in front of the wooden fence, on the left side of the panel; then in a later panel she’s standing in front of the wooden fence on the right side of the panel.

I don’t think this is by accident. This implies that Eren and Historia met up more than once, which opens up a strong possibility of them meeting up several times in the past. So when Historia asks Eren about having a baby, we don’t know if she said that in the same conversation as the earlier panels. It could have happened at a completely different time. We only have a close up of her face when she says it, and we dont see the whole convo, which means we don’t know the full context around her bringing up a baby to Eren.

*Assuming they have met up several times, it begs the question, why does Eren even meet up with Historia? In my opinion, it’s because he has feelings for her, and they might be involved romantically.

We know that the songs for AoT can allude to or foreshadow events in the story. I feel like Eren and Historia’s meet ups were alluded to in two songs (that I know of) in AoT OST, “Zero Eclipse” and “Yuugure no Tori” (ed3).

Zero Eclipse (only later part of the song is related to Eren):

“Make a promise that I cannot regret, As long as I can see you but in secret”

Yuugure no Tori:

“I’ll sing out with my girl, Go to the meeting place sing alone”

If the Baby was Planned, It Would Contradict Eren’s ideals/motivation

Another reason I don’t think the baby is planned is because if the point is to not produce kids just for a strategic purpose then why would Eren and Historia make a plan to do just that? (ie having a baby to put off Historia eating Zeke). Having the reason for making a child be reduced to convenience/serving your plan doesn’t sit right with me. It doesn’t align with Eren’s beliefs, in my opinion.

Assuming that Eren and Historia are romantically involved and have been physically intimate for some time, I think its fair to consider that this baby was conceived by chance (as well as love) rather than some sort of necessity brought on by a situation. I think upon hearing what the military was planning for Historia, Eren decided to make plans for another way that wouldn’t sacrifice her. I don’t think that involved making a child. I think the child came about by chance and the panel of Historia asking Eren about a baby was maybe part of a longer conversation where she was telling him that she was pregnant. I know I’m making a lot of assumptions, but I don’t think its impossible.

I think from there, Eren and Historia came up with a plan to hide the pregnancy in order to protect Historia from being connected to Eren, since he knew he was going to start going against the military and wanted to protect Historia from any association with that. And also, kept it secret because if Zeke some how found out, it would compromise Zeke’s confidence in Eren and mess up Eren’s plans. Eren and Historia’s plan to keep the paternity a secret involved lying about the due date and using the Farmer as a cover. I suspect the farmer guy agreed because he really did feel guilty about bullying Historia as a child. The fact that he felt guilty enough to work there for years opens the possibility of him willing to go along with Eren and Historia’s plan, so he can make up for everything.

Paneling Choices

Now I want to talk about Isayama’s choices when it comes to the panels in ch 130, specifically in regards to the scene of Eren making his plans, Eren and Historia talking, and Eren and Zeke discussing Mikasa. How Isayama chose to order these panels seemed to me, very intentional and meticulous.

In the previous panels in the same chapter we see Eren refusing to allow Historia to be sacrificed and we see him willing to go against humanity for her (and Paradis as a whole). Isayama decided to shows us the process of Eren deciding to carry out this plan through his interactions with Historia, as if to convey that she’s a big reason for why he’s doing all this. He’s emphasizing her importance in how Eren came to start this mission by positoning her front and center. This sequence ends with Eren telling Historia that she saved him, paralleling Mikasa in a big way.

Then, we go to a conversation between Zeke and Eren about the Ackerman bloodline. Zeke is clarifying to Eren that there is no ingrained behavior and that Mikasa does all these things for him because she loves him. And right after Zeke says that, there is a panel of Eren and Historia. I feel like Isayama gave us an explanation of Eren’s actions right here. A discussion about Mikasa’s affection and devotion juxtaposed with images of Eren and Historia right after we saw several panels of Eren doing exactly what Zeke described Mikasa does for Eren, in my opinion, was meant to indirectly allude to why Eren is doing this and how he feels about Historia. Isayama doesn’t want to give it away just yet, but is giving subtle breadcrumbs. Using Mikasa’s feelings to juxtapose probably threw people off too.

It’s my opinion that Eren loves Historia. There’s other evidence that people have pointed out that I also agree with, but I won’t delve deep I’ll just mention them here:

-Hanji noticing Eren smiling at Historia and defending her wellbeing, then asking Eren about it. Eren snaps at Hanji when she brings up Historia.

-Historia getting teary eyed when Eren defends her in the meeting.

The only person Eren has been consistent with protecting this whole time has been Historia. His desire to protect her never wavered. He’s been talking about protecting her since the end of season 3. The only person we’ve seen Eren confide in (about his plans etc.) is Historia. She’s clearly significant to him.

What Eren Kruger Said to Grisha

Another reason I think Eren loves Historia and is romantically involved with her is because of what Eren Kruger said to Grisha. The Attack titan shifter can see future memories as well as past ones. Kruger told Grisha to “love someone in the walls, build a family. If you can’t do that, the same cycle will repeat itself. If you want to save Mikasa and Armin, carry out your mission to the end”. I think Kruger was also talking to Eren here, OR Isayama was alluding to what Eren will need to do in order to save everyone. In the anime, they added a line for Kruger, he says “someone in the future might see this [moment/memory of their conversation]”. I think it was added to establish that there may be a link between what Kruger said and what Eren is doing. Afterall, we know Eren saw this conversation.

I think Eren did fall in love, with Historia, and is building a family (conceived a baby by chance), and something about the experience of love and impending fatherhood has played an important role in Eren carrying out this mission and ultimately saving Armin, Mikasa and Paradis, while also ending the cycle of hate.

In Ch 130, we see Eren saying that he has to do the rumbling in order for the cycle of hate to end. Similar to what Kruger said. Everything is happening exactly as Eren saw it, we saw that with that little boy Halil (or was it Ramzi?). The future memories were all correct, so if Kruger was speaking based on future memories then what he said about love, building a family, saving Armin and Mikasa, probably had truth to it.

Eren’s Talk with Mikasa in Ch 123

A lot of people see this as an ErenxMikasa moment but since Eren and Zeke’s conversation in Ch 130, I don’t think that’s the case. In Ch 123, Eren asks Mikasa “what am I to you?”. Mikasa flusters and says “family”. I think Eren asked her this because he was suspecting that her Ackerman bloodline was influencing her decisions. This probably worried him because he didn’t want Mikasa to be a slave to her bloodline. Mikasa’s answer didn’t clarify anything for him. He was left ambivalent on the subject and that’s why he asked Zeke about the Ackerman bloodline.

Mikasa says in Ch 123, that maybe if she gave a different answer things would have happened differently, but Zeke did give Eren a clear answer about how Mikasa felt. Eren knew how she felt and it didn’t change anything. Eren was concerned about the Ackerman bloodline influence because he wanted Mikasa to be free, not because he’s romantically interested in her.

I do realize I could be dead wrong. I know suggesting the baby wasn’t planned is a huge stretch but I just thought I’d put it out there. I just want it to be true so badly lol. Even if the baby is planned, I think there’s still some truth to some of the other things I pointed out. This was just a fun thing for me to do. I normally don’t write long theory posts, but I figured why not since it’s so close to the end and everyone is speculating. Why not join in?

I think that’s it. I hope I’m not missing anything. As for how I think the whole story will end? I think because Eren freed Ymir, titan powers might cease to exist. But I don’t know how that’ll affect the 13 year Ymir curse if that does happen. So I guess we’ll see.

Feel free to share your thoughts. I’m not AntiMikasa or anything. Please be respectful! Thanks for reading!

#aot spoilers #Eren x Historia #erehisu #aot manga #snk spoilers #snk manga #snk 136 #snk 135 #Historia Reiss #Eren Yeager #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan spoilers #shingeki no kyojin spoilers #spoilers #snk 130

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mammonshuman92 · 3 years

Text

- Watched - Pt.3

(Mammon x GN!MC)

**TW: cussing, stalking, kidnapping, religion,

Note: C/N (coworker name)

“Man, I’m starvin’. What’s takin’ so long anyway?” He grumbled, remembering the whole ‘first name basis’ thing with the delivery driver.

He was laid on his back across your bed scrolling through social media, impatiently waiting for you to return. His stomach started to growl.

“Maybe I should go check? But, MC said to stay here so no one could see me.” He said to himself, a slight pout on his lips.

He heard a small shuffling noise come from the living room, it sounded like a paper bag crinkling.

Ok, ya got the food, now don’t be tryin’ to chit chat MC, I know how ya are. I’m dyin’ in here!

The bedroom was a straight shot down the hall from the door, making it impossible to sneak a quick peek without fully exposing himself.

He could hear you talking back and forth with...Alex. He huffed to himself remembering your chumminess with the take out guy. Something just seemed weird to him about the whole thing.

Somethin’ is fishy about him always havin’ MC’s route or whatever. Does nobody else deliver for that place? I bet he’s got a crush on MC or somethin’.

“I’ll kick his ass.” He said out loud, his own thoughts making him sour.

He listened again, trying to hear what was being said. He couldn’t hear any actual words, but he could hear Alex’s voice. Barely, though.

Wait a minute.. Is he whisperin’? What’s he gotta say to MC that requires whisperin’?! I gotta get outta here.

Mammon was getting himself worked up, assuming this delivery guy was confessing his love to you. He’d nearly convinced himself to march out there and confront the creep. To hell with staying hidden!

Before he could blow his cover, he heard something hit the front door followed by more shuffling movement. He calmed down a bit, thinking the noises he heard were of you getting the food inside and trying to kick the door shut.

He impatiently waited for you to call out, telling him the coast was clear and that he could finally come eat. But, you didn’t.

After a couple minutes passed with no new noise, he grew slightly anxious.

He stood up and started pacing beside the bed, feeling antsy.

C’mon, MC. What’re ya doin’? I’m witherin’ away! Before long I’m gonna shrink up and turn into a Little D or somethin’..

Suddenly, he heard voices again. Well, just the delivery guy’s voice, still a hushed tone. He groaned to himself.

“If he don’t hurry up and go away, I’m gonna eat him instead.” He grumbled quietly to himself.

Something didn’t feel right though. Why was Alex’s voice the only one he heard? It had been at least five minutes since he heard you say something. It’s not like he just missed what you said because you were too quiet for him to hear, or you just chose not to contribute to the guy’s conversation.

You always talk, to basically anyone you come in contact with, never really knowing a stranger. He’s pretty sure you haven’t gone five minutes without talking since he met you. That’s why it seemed so weird to him.

That alone wasn’t really enough to expose himself though, was it?

To say you’ve been through a lot lately is an understatement. You’re sleep deprived and your nerves are shot. With everything that’s been going on, it would be more weird if you didn’t act a little different. He didn’t blame you for not being your usual self.

He still couldn’t shake this feeling though.

A sudden, loud noise outside got his attention.

Was that a car door?

He moved quickly, putting his back against the wall, scooting over to the doorway.

“MC? Is he gone?” He whispered.

No answer.

Screw it.

Very slowly, he peeked his head around the corner, careful not to be seen.

“MC?” He whispered again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Somethin’ is definitely wrong..

He fully emerged in the doorway, eyes darting around, taking in his surroundings. As he quickly made his way up the hall, he noticed the door standing wide open. He could see that an older model car was parked in front of the house and you were no where in sight.

Hand still on the door knob, he turned around to call out into the house, “MC, where ya at? Ya know ya left the door-”

Before he could finish, the car outside suddenly accelerated, kicking up dirt and rocks as they sped off.

What the..?

“Guess he didn’t like his tip..?” He whispered to himself.

He shut the door and turned around slowly, only taking a couple steps before he came to a stop. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he had.

“Oi, MC! D-don’t ya know you’re supposed to answer when THE Great Mammon calls for ya?” He waited, but the house was still. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears.

He walked further into the house, quickly looking around the kitchen before heading back down the hall.

Why ain’t they answerin’.. c-could it..? Nah..

“This ain’t funny ya know..” He called through the house, hoping that you’d somehow slipped past him.

Again, he was met with bone chilling silence.

Slowly, he started piecing all the little weird things that didn’t make sense together like a puzzle. The silent house and wide open door, abandoned food, the car speeding away..

The same delivery guy somehow always having this route...

His heart sank.

No, no, no, no!

He ran from room to room in a panic, desperately calling out to you, begging you to answer him.

This ain’t happenin’.. They gotta be hidin’ or something. Yeah, that’s it!

“MC! Where are ya? Talk to me, please!” He screamed, voice breaking around the hard lump forming in his throat, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

No, it can’t be.. It can’t be..

With trembling hands, he dug his phone from his pocket, quickly dialing your number.

“C’mon, pick up. Please, please pick up.” He pleaded as he paced the floor.

His stomach dropped when he heard it ringing within the house, quickly following the sound until he found it on the coffee table where you had left it earlier. He stood there unmoving, staring at his picture and contact name with hearts on the screen, tears streaking down his face.

The weight of it all came crashing down like a tsunami, forcing him to his knees. With his face in his hands, he sobbed uncontrollably.

I shoulda listened to my gut when I thought somethin’ was wrong! Why did I wait so long to look for ‘em?! He took MC, he took MC! Dammit!

How did he let this happen? He was right here, right here, and he didn’t sense the danger. He couldn't protect you again, letting you fall right into the hands of the psycho creep who had been relentlessly harassing you, who was planning to do who knows what.

He had to do something. Anything.

Get the hell up! Ya gotta go find MC NOW! There’s no tellin’ what this creep is gonna try.

He stood up and wiped his face, trying to compose himself as he switched into demon form.

“I can still catch ‘em!” He made a beeline for the door, stopping abruptly as he reached the thresh hold.

“Wait, it’s the middle of the day and this ain’t the Devildom. A demon flyin’ around on a man hunt would be real bad.” He thought aloud.

People would most likely panic and if history proves anything, nothing good ever comes from humans when they panic.

He had to try and think rationally, as hard as it was. He wanted to rush in and save you as quick as he could, but going in blind without a decent plan could get you hurt...or possibly worse.

He switched out of demon form and moved back into the living room, trying to come up with an idea.

Your phone was here so he couldn’t have you tracked by GPS and he didn’t remember much about the car except that it was older. He didn’t even know what the guy looked like since he’d had to hide. All he knew about him was his first name and that he worked at a restaurant.

“The take out place would for sure have everything about him on file!” He quickly punched in the name of the place into his phone’s search engine, then suddenly paused.

“Wait a minute..I can’t just waltz in there and ask for someone’s personal info. They’d call the cops or somethin’. Damn!”

He was beginning to feel hysterical. He didn’t have much to go on and every idea he came up with was crap. A few ‘ding’ sounds from the coffee table tore him from his thoughts. It was your phone.

Someone named C/N had sent you a couple texts about work and judging by the text log, you talked to them often.

“Man, I hope this C/N knows somethin’ cause I’ve got nothin’ else to go on..”

Luckily, he remembered the name of the coffee shop, having heard you talk about work often. A quick internet search and he had the directions. He was out the door like a shot.

With his newfound breadcrumb, he was one step closer to finding you.

A bell chimed above the door when he entered the shop, alerting the worker behind the counter of his presence.

“Hi, how can I help you?” They greeted him as he walked up to the counter.

“Hey, is there a C/N here by any chance?”

“Oh, uh, yeah just a sec.” They went through a doorway behind the counter, returning moments later with another person in tow.

“Hello..? I’m sorry, do I know you?” They asked, approaching Mammon, visibly confused.

“No, but you know MC, right?” He asked, uninterested in beating around the bush.

“I’m not sure I can answer that.” They said cautiously, visibly tense.

They do know somethin’.

“Here, look.” He said, pulling up the gallery on his phone, showing them multiple pictures of you and MC together.

“Oh, so you’re the boyfriend. MC has told me about you. Uh, anyway, is there something I can help you with? I need to get back to work..”

“Yeah, has MC ever mentioned anythin’ about a guy named Alex before?” He asked.

Please, please, please

“Alex..Alex..” They repeated, tapping a finger on their chin as they thought it over. “They did, actually. We went to the movies about two months ago, and ran into a guy they knew. It was their usual deliver guy I think? Said his name was Alex. He gave me the creeps.” They explained.

“Why is that?”

Yes! We’re gettin’ somewhere.

“He just seemed..I don’t know, off? And when I met him, I actually remembered seeing him a few days earlier on my way to work. There was another A.T.A. protest and I saw him in the group demonstrators. He denied being there when I brought it up, saying it had to be his doppelganger or something, but I know it was him. When we ran into him at the movies he said he had just got off work, and he was wearing the exact same shirt and hat as the day of the protest.” They informed him.

“Wait, A.T.A.? What’s that?” He asked curiously.

“Anti-Treaty Association. They’re exactly what the name suggests. Everyone involved in the exchange program is public knowledge. Names, pictures, updates on how the program was going, etc. All easily found on any search engine. If he is part of the A.T.A., why would he be friendly with MC? There’s no way he didn’t know who they were.” They said.

This Alex guy is definitely the stalker. I bet if I dig into this A.T.A. I can find him..

“Alright. Thanks for your help.” He said as he turned to leave, C/N took a few steps after him.

“Hey, uh, is MC okay? I know they haven’t been themselves lately, but uh, you coming here and asking all these questions kinda scares me..” They admitted, fear for their friend written on their face.

“MC is uh, goin’ through some stuff. I’m gonna put an end to it though.” His voice was rough, angry. His face however, was full of desperation and sadness.

Mammon thanked C/N again for their information and left the coffee shop on a new mission. He uncovered another piece of the puzzle, new information that could lead him to you.

No one knew exactly what this guy was capable of, but he had the most important piece of Mammon's existence with him. There wasn’t anything he wasn’t willing to do, in any realm, to bring you back safely. He would breach the Celestial Gates without thinking twice if it would bring you back to him.

He was going to show them exactly why he's the second strongest of the seven rulers of the underworld.

I’m comin’ MC. I will find ya, I promise.

“Get out.”

The scorching heat inside the trunk made you nauseous, and severely thirsty. You felt weak and disoriented, unable to move much. You weren’t sure how long you had been stuck in there before you finally felt the car come to a stop. The lid opened, blazing sunshine poured inside the dark space, making your eyes water and squint reflexively.

“I said, get out!” He screamed.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist hard and yanked you from the trunk, letting you drop to the ground. You were much to weak to try and brace yourself so you fell pretty hard, getting small scrapes and dirt on your elbows and forearms.

You tried to open your eyes to try and get an idea of where he had taken you, but before they could adjust to the blinding sunlight, he tied something around your eyes.

“Can’t have you trying to escape.” He said to himself, as he finished tying up your hands. The restraints were very tight, already starting to hurt your wrists.

“I’m not going to.” You said weakly, your words making him laugh.

“Well, at least your a smart demon slut. Somewhat, anyway.”

Honestly, you weren’t planning to escape. If the opportunity presented itself, you would make a run for it, but you weren’t actively looking for an escape route. However, you had no intention of giving this creep what he wanted, or giving up without one hell of a fight.

Pulling you by the restraint around your wrists, he began to drag you across the ground. He let go of you a minute or so later. He didn’t drag you very far, ending up in some kind of building judging by the change in temperature and the rough feeling of concrete beneath you. It felt a little cooler in here as if you were out of direct sunlight, but the air was still fairly hot and sticky.

You did your best to pay attention to the things around you. The sounds, smells, what little you could feel. Outside you could hear cows in the distance and some kind of humming noise. It was definitely hot, but more like that humid feeling before it storms. You could also smell it too, the incoming rain. That warm earthy smell.

You could hear Alex nearby messing with something metal, there was also the sound of running water somewhere close.

I can’t believe Alex was actually the stalker this entire time... Explains how pictures taken of me from outside my house though.. I wonder what he plans to do..

You promptly chased away those thoughts in order to keep yourself calm, replacing them with thoughts of him, the time you’d spent together along with all the memories that came with it.

How soft and fluffy his hair felt when ran your fingers through it. The way he smelled; not the Devilish No.5, although you did love it, it’s smell closely related to the famous human world version, but his smell. Crisp and clean like fresh laundry or new clothes, slightly smoky like leather because of his favorite jacket and small undertones of warm cinnamon and vanilla.

The always groaned about your selection for movie night but was the first one to get really into it. Having a concert while cooking when you had kitchen duty together, getting in trouble for talking and laughing in class and later being scolded by Lucifer for it. How he always used to complain how bad humans smell, only to find out he started buying your brand of body wash for himself and would also try to casually smell his hoodie after you’d worn it.

The thought of never seeing him again, never experiencing anymore memories like these or the chance to make new ones, kept haunting you. A hard lump was forming in your throat, tears beginning to prick your eyes.

“Aw, what’s the matter darlin’? The abomination you chose as a lover isn’t rushing in to save you like Prince Charming? Imagine that.” He spat.

You ignored his sarcastic comments, wanting answers of you own, “Why are you doing this?” You could hear him walking toward you, his footsteps getting louder as he approached. The sound stopped abruptly, then he crouched down next to your head.

“I told you, you need to be cleansed.” His tone was very matter-of-fact.

He grabbed your wrist restraint again and drug you another ten feet or so. Easily picking you up and hoisting you into the air until the rope around your wrists caught on something. He let go, your full weight coming down on your restraint. You were suspended in the air, feet barely skimming the floor.

He checked your ropes to make sure it was still secure with the added weight and gravity, then he removed your blindfold. The sudden change causing you to blink several times.

Your previous assumptions had been right, you appeared to be in a warehouse that had been abandoned for quite some time. Most of the windows were broken, big vines and other foliage creeping into the building. The rusted remnants of machinery scattered around the large, open room. You looked above you to see that you were hanging from a large hook that was suspended by thick chain from a metal beam up above. Far to your left you could see what looked like a large pool or even one of those big basins you usually use to water cattle, with a hose draped over the side. There’s the source of the running water you heard.

Wait...a stock tank with water, ’cleansed’...is he going to..baptize me?

“Cleansed? That’s been mentioned quite a bit in the dozens of letters I’ve been getting. Well, you would know, huh? Since you’re the one behind it all. What I don’t understand is why?”

It came off as more sarcastic than you intended, but you didn’t really care. You had been terrified for weeks about the stalker. What would they do when they finally got to you? You haven’t truly felt alone in over a month, as if someone was always hiding in the shadows watching, waiting. Your anxiety has been through the roof and you’re in a nearly constant state of paranoia and fear.

But, now that he was in front of you, you didn’t feel scared. You wanted answers.

“Because they don’t belong with our kind. Uniting our realms is blasphemy and will throw the human world into chaos.”

‘Don’t belong with our kind’..? Whoa, what the hell..

“Blasphemy? But, the Celestial Realm is on board with it. The angels in the exchange progr-” He cut you off before you could finish, his sudden booming voice echoed through the spacious warehouse, startling you.

He stood with his back to you, facing a long metal table that looked as if it used to be a conveyor or some other piece that once belonged to one of the old machines inside the long forgotten building.

“The exchange program was a joke! Those devils just needed a good cover to get their claws on our realm so they could take it over! Using their dirty tricks and magic to bring corruption and pollute us with sin.” He stared you down like a mad man while he yelled.

This was so bizarre, he sounded insane. Like, one of those people that wore tin foil hats. This version of Alex, the real one, was scary. You would’ve never guessed in a million years that this guy was the same one that you talked about the weather and current events with a few times a week.

“None of that is even remotely true! They just want to bring peace among the realms, to prove that they are not what all the harmful, hateful rhetoric claims they are. So we can all just co-exist! That was the entire point of the exchange program! To learn about the Devildom; it’s people and culture.” You fought back.

His face twisted up in disgust, visibly becoming more and more agitated every time you spoke. He stalked closer, stopping maybe six feet in front of you, staring at you intently.

“That kind of thinking is exactly why you need to be cleansed. You’re a human, or has being a demon whore and becoming the embodiment of sin made you forget that? You are nothing but a weak, powerless human to them. A pawn in their bigger plan, collateral damage if things went wrong.”

You never cared what assumptions people made or the rumors they started regarding your stay in the Devildom. However, when the very demons you loved and cared about became the subject of people’s whispering, you were willing to fight with no intentions of backing down.

You, out of everyone, who had to live in the House of Lamentation for a year, escaped death from a couple of the brothers, helped them mend familial bonds, and held pacts with all of them, should know better than anyone, exactly who they are.

“You don’t know anything about them!” You yelled lurching forward as you filled with anger, lightly swinging back and forth where you were suspended, the thick chains above you clanking, “The things they’ve been through, they things they’ve seen. The sacrifices they had to make..” You heart ached for them. What happened during the Great Celestial War, their fall.. They’ve been through a great deal and they, along with the rest of the Devildom, are undeserving of such prejudiced hatred.

“Being demons doesn’t automatically mean they are bad people, just like being human doesn’t make you good.” You stared him down, lacing venom in your words. He squinted his eyes at you, unhappy with your implications. “That fact was thoroughly proven during my time there. Some of kindest people I have ever met, as well as the people I love and cherish the most, are demons.”

You would forever stand behind the program, your now second home, and all the friends and loved ones you made along the way. No matter what this psycho could come up with, you would not be swayed. You knew them for who they are, all Alex knew was hatred.

He scoffed at your words, walking toward you as he shook his head in disgust, eyes boring into yours. He stopped just inches in front of your face. You held onto your resolve, staring back at him intently, not letting him see that you were completely terrified. It’s what he wanted; to feel superior and pass judgement on those he deemed unworthy.

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction though; to feed his ego, his delusions. You refused to bow to fear, instead giving it all you had to make sure that if this was how it would end for you, you would fight against his prejudice and hatred until your final moments.

“We will start with the normal cleansing.” He backed away from you, confirming your suspicions as he gestured to the stock tank. “Although I think your soul might be too far gone for it to be completely effective.” He smiled wickedly as he turned around, going back to the table he’d been at earlier and picked up the same knife he’d held to you when he kidnapped you. The only other weapons you could see on the table were a baton and a taser. There was also a thick book you could only assume was a bible and a large jar of water. The most concerning however, was the gas can, thick work gloves, and what looked a lot like a body bag.

“This may call for a more extensive purification.”

PART FOUR COMING SOON!

#obey me!#obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #trigger warning #potentially triggering #obey me shall we date #obey me angst

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aflyingcontradiction · 3 years

Text

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 39 - Infestation

Sasha: Leave it, it's not - Jon: I got it!

Okay, but why the hell is Jon trying to rescue the tape recorder at this point? PRIORITIES, Jon! PRIORITIES (Also, unbeknownst to Jon, that damn tape recorder would probably have been fine and would've just tagged along with him regardless...)

Martin: I used to carry around a knife, but I started thinking that, well, cutting into someone laterally wasn’t really the most efficient way to get them out, and besides which, they seem to be quite slow burrowing in a straight line so, given their size, the corkscrew just seemed to be the better option.

This is actually really good thinking. (Also, since there wasn't exactly a quote I could put this under, let me note that Johnny Sims is very good at screaming in a way that makes it sound like he's genuinely in pain. I do love the acting on this podcast sometimes.)

Sasha: Before, in the office. It, it was stupid going for the tape recorder like that, and then when you dropped it out there – (...) Jon: I just… I don’t want to become a mystery. I refuse to become another goddamn mystery.

I'd forgotten they explain Jon's weird decision-making and just ... ouch. Suddenly it makes a sad amount of sense, actually.

Sasha: Jon, what did you mean by "real statements"? Jon: You know what I mean. The ones that have weird wrinkles, or that just seem to have something solid to them. They all have one thing in common. Sasha: They don’t record digitally. Jon: And we have to use the tape recorder. At this stage, if it records to my laptop I almost don’t bother.

Of course I had figured that out by this point in the show (it was all but stated explicitly several times before this episode) but this is the first confirmation we get that Jon realises this, too, and probably has for a while now. That did make me go "Huh!" on my first listen.

Martin: Tim. Tim’s outside. Sasha: Oh god, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t see them. (...) Jon: It’s soundproofed. He can’t hear you! (...) Sasha: Ah, screw this! Jon: What, Sasha, NO!

I had so many shivers running up and down my spine here. I genuinely thought we were about to witness Tim and/or Sasha being devoured by worms. (Not that what happens to them is ultimately much better...) I don't really listen to a lot of audioplays (I used to listen to cassettes as a kid but that was decades ago) and I was really surprised by how vivid this scene got in my head given that it was based on nothing but voices and sound effects.

Tim: Statement of Joe Spooky, regarding sinister happenings in the downtown old –

Pfffft! Someone needs to pick their timing a bit better! If it hadn't been for Sasha this would literally have been Tim's final words.

Tim: Oh...

This little "Oh" as Tim turns and spots Jane Prentiss is so fucking expressive!

Martin: Well, so the worms didn’t know they were there! Look, I know it’s stupid. Jon: Yes. Yes it is. They’re just… they’re just unclassified parasites. They don’t have consciousness, they can’t plan, they’re just an unthinking infection. (...) Martin: Why do you do that? (...) Push the sceptic thing so hard!?

This bit of conversation, followed by Martin's rant, was actually quite cathartic for me because we repeatedly watch S1 Jon realising there's something weird going on and immediately doing a 180 turn to go "No, this is all nonsense" based on not much of anything, and it was starting to frustrate me too, it just didn't make sense. Having Martin just straight-up call him out on it was a "YES! EXACTLY!" moment. And then...

Jon: Of course, I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact Storage? That’s enough to convince anyone.

... just left me going what ... wait ... WHAT? and Jon's explanation...

Jon: Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record these statements it feels… it feels like I’m being watched. I… I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like… like if I admit there may be any truth to it, whatever’s watching will… know somehow. The scepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer.

Well, let's just say if I had been standing while listening to this episode, I would have been sitting down by the end of this. I was floored.

Jon: Why haven’t you quit? Martin: Are you giving me my review now?

I love how Martin's affronted tone implies that he genuinely believes it possible that Jon is choosing this moment, while they're maybe possibly about to die horrible deaths, to give him a performance review. I know Jon has been a dick, Martin, but not THAT much of a dick!

Martin: I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck. Jon: Martin…You’re not, uh… You didn’t die here, did you? Martin: What? What? N-No… what?! Okay, this had me snorting. He just goes from "If I close my eyes, cover my ears and don't admit anything weird is going on, we'll all be fine" to straight-up asking his co-worker if he's a ghost in two seconds flat. I love it so much.

Martin: No, no… it’s just that whatever web these statements have caught you in, well, I’m there too.

Oh. my. fucking. God. "Whatever web these statements have caught you in..." You have got to be kidding me... THIS FUCKING PODCAST HAS BEEN THROWING BREADCRUMBS SINCE SEASON FUCKING 1???

Elias: So… these are the worms he and Martin have been going on about?

Oh, come the fuck on, Elias! There's playing dumb and then there's this. At least keep it believable, you work in the Archive, too! It's been Wormtown for weeks now!

Jon: You’re not bitten, are you? Tim: No, I don’t think so! Have a look! Jon: Yes, alright Tim, you look fine. Put them back on, please.

Okay, I have a 12-year-old's sense of humour but this makes me giggle so hard.

Sasha: God, I hate this place.

Oh god, the soundscaping in this section of the episode. It's at the point that Sasha says this line that the spooky music we usually get in statements comes on loudly enough to be really noticeable, but you can still hear the fire alarm going off very quietly in the background and it just makes it all sound so eerie and apocalyptic and final, which is really fitting for what is about to happen.

Sasha: Jon! Jon, I think there’s someone here. Hello? I see you. Show yourself. [SCREAM] NotSasha: Hello? ... I see you! ... ... I see you.

Oh god, that last "I see you" right up close is so fucking creepy. I think I knew Sasha was dead on some level the moment we hear the "I see you". And when she "turns up again" I knew from the first second that it wasn't really her. (If I remember correctly, my partner wasn't entirely clear on that, which is funny, because unlike my partner who actually recognises voice actors, I have close-to-zero voice recognition and had a snowball's chance in hell of figuring out that the voice actor had changed. I just went off this scene and our previous encounter with the table and it all struck me as very obvious.)

Jon: None of us have been hit yet but… during one of the more alarming encounters, Martin ran off. Tim: He thought we were behind him, I think. Jon: He didn’t think at all.

STOP BEING AN ARSEHOLE, JON!

Jane Prentiss (very wormily): ARCHIVIST Jon: Shit. [Click]

I'm kind of amused by this, because Jon's "shit" is not a "SHIT!" or even a "Shit!" - it is very much a "Shit." So much more "I just spilled my tea over a statement" than "I'm face to face with a sentient pile of worms that wants to eat me and it just addressed me in person."

My impression of this episode

There's A LOT going on in this episode (as evidenced by the fact that this is by far my longest relisten post yet) and that pretty much sums up my impression when I first listened to it. "Oh, it's an audioplay now! Neat! ... Oh. ... Oooh ... Oh shit ... Oh wow, there was a lot going on here, I'm going to need a moment."

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

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fictorium · 4 years

Note

Lemme take a chance that this very obvious combination may inspire more Supercat ficlets coz I’ve been dying with the feels you’ve been giving me lately. 22, 25, 40. Thanks so much!

22. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

At first Kara assumes it’s another retreat in the mountains ‘diving’ situation. Cat Grant walking out on the White House is a big deal, but in a career like hers it barely breaks the top ten. Everyone speculates about what big move is next, including serious political commentary about whether Cat will run in the next election to unseat Baker.

Instead she just disappears. Off the face of the Earth, it seems.

Since she hasn’t been told otherwise, Kara ignores the chatter as best she can. It’s only natural that she reaches out by text and email to see if she can help spin whatever story Cat would rather have out there, and it definitely hurts when those go unanswered. Just a little. A totally normal amount. For two friends. Mentor and mentee. Former colleagues.

Which is all they are. Were. Can be. Kara’s sure about that. Mostly.

It would just be polite, in a civilized society, to reply to a person’s texts. Even if just to say that what Cat had planned next was less than zero of Kara’s business. Period.

It’s not like she’s mad about it. Anyway.

It’s only when the unthinkable happens almost three weeks in, when the media actually moves on from the Where Is Cat Grant story that they’ve been having so much fun with, that Kara starts to look at the situation differently. Cat can be guarded about her privacy for someone so public, but she usually leaves at least a trail of breadcrumbs to wrongfoot the paparazzi.

The reporter in Kara almost can’t help herself. She has access to almost everything she did as Cat’s assistant--surprisingly, most things on that front haven’t changed--and it only takes a few calls to former colleagues of Cat’s in DC to start picking up the first scent of the mystery.

It’s a mystery that results only in dead ends though, and Kara is so frustrated after days of working on it flat out that she gives in and uses her supersenses for the kind of lead that good journalism just isn’t providing. She’s out of practice and it wouldn’t work if Cat really had gone to the other side of the planet, but she must at least be somewhere on the West Coast judging by how quickly Kara picks up that familiar half-stutter in Cat’s every second heartbeat, the result of a faint murmur she’s had since childhood.

At first it worried Kara, because it sounded a little broken and almost like a warning, but she quickly got used to it working beside Cat all day every day. Now it’s a useful beacon in street after street of heartbeats, none of them quite right. When she does finally, almost frantically, track down that one elusive beat, Kara’s a little startled to discover Cat’s somewhere way out in the desert, with only a handful of other people anywhere nearby.

Kara checks property records and Cat’s accounts to see if there’s some new house in the portfolio, but it’s only tracing a sizeable payment in the thousands to something vaguely labelled on a statement as ‘wellness’ that Kara puts the pieces together.

She should leave it there, when she does. It’s not something she should intrude on. But there’s a website. Full of glossy words and promises and legally-watertight non-guarantees. Kara wants to throw up as she reads more and more of it, of seeing page after page that screams at her for being so far out of the loop, for not being around to see where this was all going.

And mostly, horribly, for being too damn late.

There’s only one thing Kara wants to do now, but the tiny chance of it is entirely dependent on whether Cat will even see her. It’s coming up on 8pm when Kara picks up the phone, and she just hopes that will be reason enough for her call to get answered.

* * *

At least when she gets there, to the mysterious sprawling ranch in the desert, Kara can see that it’s the height of luxury. That much hasn’t changed since Kara’s world flipped upside down over a week ago. The worst part has been not being able to tell a single soul, not even Alex, and the stress of that was only offset by Cat agreeing to see Kara. Today. In exactly 13 minutes to be exact.

Security is tight, but Kara has patience to spare as she goes through step after step to be allowed inside, to once again be accepted into Cat’s inner sanctum. The room that Kara is politely told to wait in is certainly a beautiful space, a courtyard of sorts with sunbleached white walls and the kind of sleek but stuffed garden furniture that costs four times what Kara’s actual furniture was worth, brand new.

There’s a small table with a pitcher of iced tea, so Kara pours a glass and downs it, pouring another right after. It’s distraction enough with the rattling ice that she doesn’t notice Cat’s approach.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” is Cat’s opening shot, and Kara spins around at the sound of her voice.

“I’m not asking for one.”

“Good. And I don’t want a drink, before you offer.” Cat waves a sleek water bottle that she’s holding in one hand, a band from it around her wrist. “I haven’t been drying out in here for weeks only to come out addicted to sugar.”

Well that answers any number of questions Kara doesn’t dare ask. As rehab facilities go, it’s certainly five-star. This is the first day on Cat’s program that she’s been allowed visitors, and Kara is surprised she’s even there. It would be terrible to blow it, to have Cat throw her out before they even sit down.

“You look good,” Kara says instead, taking a seat on the large bench that dominates one wall. Cat considers for a moment, then joins her. She has large sunglasses in place, but there’s no evidence of makeup on her skin. Her hair has none of its usually immaculate style, and the blonde highlights have faded out to mostly brown at the roots. All the same, it’s true that Cat looks every bit as beautiful as Kara has always found her.

The compliment earns only a derisive snort, but Cat preens just a little, in her linen shirt and pants, loose-fitting and crinkled in a way that feels almost unbearably intimate; like Kara shouldn’t be present when Cat is so stripped back and vulnerable.

“So, you found me,” Cat says eventually. “We’ll make a reporter of you yet.”

“I’ve been nominated for a Pulitzer, Ms Grant.”

“Oh please, those don’t even count until your third.”

Kara winces at her own excitement, at how readily she’d believed she’d made it. Cat, to her credit, seems to notice that the words were a little too flippant.

“You can still enjoy the first two, of course. Now you’ve seen me for yourself, is that enough?”

“Enough? Cat, I came to see if you need anything. If I can help in any way. Here, now, or when you get out and come home. I’ve been researching addiction, and how best to support someone you care about and--”

“Kara, I’m not your problem anymore. You don’t have to manage me, or keep my life running smoothly. You’re... off the hook for all that now.”

“Did you not hear the part where I care about you?” Kara won’t let that be swept aside, not now. “You can be oblivious, Cat, but not that unaware.”

“And if you’ve done your research, you’ll know that relationships in the first year of recovery are a bad idea. Along with all the other reasons it’s a bad idea.”

Kara stands. She’s being shot down before she even gets going, and it can’t be that way. Not now.

“Do you honestly think I wouldn’t wait for you? That I haven’t basically been waiting for you since I walked into your office at 10:15 years ago? Do you think there is anything you could go through that would make me stop caring about you?”

“I have a lot to fix, Kara. Not least with my boys. Carter isn’t even...”

“I spoke to him,” Kara replies. “I know you’re not talking but I know he’s open to making that better, when you’re ready. And nothing I ever wanted for me and you would get in the way of that. We might only ever be friends, Cat, but I plan on being a good one.”

Cat reaches for her then, catching Kara’s hand and clutching it with her own.

“I knew you’d find me. Somehow, I knew. And I don’t deserve you, Kara, but if you’re really offering to be in my life again, I don’t think I can turn that down.”

“Then don’t.”

“We could go for a walk? In the grounds? They let me do that now.” Cat stands without ever letting go of Kara’s hands. “I can’t promise anything else, but we could start with that?”

“I’d like that,” Kara replies. “I’d like that a lot.”

#s1 nostalgia meme #supercat #kara danvers #cat grant #tw alcoholism #tw drug addiction #tw rehab #Anonymous

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willow-salix · 4 years

Text

Isolation update, loosely titled "John and Selene parenting Alan".

Day 87 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

“I’m starving.”

“How nice for you,” Scott commented.

“You know where the kitchen is,” John added.

“Yeah, go make yourself a sandwich or something,” Virgil suggested.

“Make a sandwich?”

“Yes, a sandwich, you know, two slices of bread, filling in the middle, it’s hardly an alien concept,” Gordon laughed. “Make me one too while you’re at it.”

“Make it myself?”

“It’s not that hard, Allie. You need to learn to fend for yourself sometime,” Virgil told him patiently.

Alan went quiet then sneakily took out his phone.

“I swear, if you text her to get her to make you a sandwich, I’ll get EOS to wipe all your saved game data,” John warned him not looking up from whatever he was working on on his tablet, his uncanny ability to see everything still working on earth without Five.

“Like I was going to do that,” Alan huffed, but he did slip his phone back into his pocket. “I can make my own food if I want to.”

“Sure you can,” Gordon’s tone said he’d be more inclined to believe that they had Nessie living in the cove.

“I can and I’ll prove it,” he declared, stomping down to the kitchen.

I walked in about five minutes after this conversation and flopped down on the nearest couch, it didn't matter that Gordon was already there, I just sat on him.

“What’s going on? What did I miss?”

“Alan is apparently capable of making food for himself,” Scott told me. "He's proving it to us right now."

“Seriously? You guys let him go into the kitchen by himself?”

“He’s old enough to make a sandwich,” John pointed out.

“It’s also Alan,” I argued. “I’m gonna keep an eye on him and make sure he doesnt hurt himself in there.”

“Don’t help him, I know you and so does he. You’ll watch for no more than two minutes before he does something stupid, likely on purpose because he knows that you’ll take over and do it for him,” Scott warned me.

“I’m not going to help, I’m going to supervise.”

They all gave me that look that said they didn't believe me. Honestly, I didn’t believe myself either.

“OK, I might help him but just a tiny bit.”

“No, I'm being serious, he needs to learn to fend for himself a little, he can’t rely on us forever,” Scott insisted. “Don’t help him. Keep an eye on him if that will make you feel better, but you have to sit on a stool and stay there.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Dude, did you just tell me what to do?”

“Run...away…” Virgil hissed under his breath.

Scott took his advice and took off, yelling something about hearing Grandma calling.

“Wimp,” I muttered.

Gordon sniggered.

“He’s right though, you need to let Alan do things for himself,” John said.

“You’re not stupid enough to give me an order, are you?”

“No, I’m telling you the truth and asking you to be sensible.”

“Fine, I’ll try.”

“Want me to come with you?” he sighed. I nodded, I was going to need back up, I could feel it in my bones.

By the time we got to the kitchen Alan had already started and by this I mean he had dragged out a number of bowls and was standing in the pantry staring at the shelves.

He poked his head out as we entered and looked visibly relieved.

“She’s not helping you,” John told him. Alan slumped.

“We’re supervising to make sure you don’t kill yourself,” I told him, taking a seat at the table.

“I don’t need supervision, I’m perfectly capable of making pasta without help.”

“Of course you are, forget that we’re even here, we’ll just chill over here with a cup of coffee,” I assured him.

“I’ve got a recipe,” he informed us.

“That’s good,” John nodded, "recipes are there to help."

“Cornflakes will work as breadcrumbs, right? They’re basically the same thing.”

“I-”

John interrupted me with a gentle nudge of his elbow.

“Whatever you think, Allie.”

“I need gloves, cooking can get messy!”

As we watched he dug around in the first aid kit we kept in the cupboard because…boys and a kitchen, and pulled out a pair of gloves. Examination gloves. Whatever.

“You gotta cook the pasta first, right?”

We stayed silent, John reading something on his tablet which I was pretending to look at too but really I was watching the baby drag a massive bag of pasta out of the pantry and proceed to pour it into a bowl.

“Pasta cooks in water,” he reminded himself, turning on the tap and filling the bowl with water. He glanced from the stove to the microwave and back again.

“Please don’t let him put the bowl on the stove, please don’t let him put the-” I chanted under my breath, breathing a sigh of relief when he shoved the bowl in the microwave. Maybe he did have a little common sense, maybe they were right and he could do this by himself. Had I been enabling and babying him too much? Not that the others could talk considering I had to look after all of them just as much.

“About eight minutes should do it,” he said confidently. “I know Virgil did that with that other pasta, you know, the one that looks like a...blob. A squiggly blob. This isn’t blob pasta but it should work the same.”

I glanced at John who shrugged. He had no idea what blob pasta was either.

Alan stood and watched the bowl going round in the microwave for a few minutes with such concentration that I wondered if he’d hypnotised himself. I nudged John who looked over, but upon finding no blood on his brother, shrugged and looked away again.

“Oh, I forgot the aluminium foil,” Alan located the tin foil in the fifth place he looked, the freezer for some bizarre reason I wasn't about to try and figure out, and ripped off a large square.

With some difficulty he constructed something that looked like a very thick, very lumpy tin foil bowl with a flappy lid.

He rummaged in the pantry again and emerged with a jar of sauce, red so I'm assuming something tomatoey, and glanced at the label.

“No added sugar? Is this sauce broken? Everything needs sugar. I’d better add some, just to be on the safe side.”

“John,” I whispered, nudging him again.

“Just leave him, he’s fine.”

“Then you can deal with him when he’s bouncing around the house at 3 am on a sugar rush,” I sniffed.

John looked as if he wanted to deal by leaving the planet…again.

I watched as Alan liberally sprinkled sugar in a thick layer on the bottom of the tin foil bed.

“Needs cheese,” he decided and went to the fridge. Did he get the nice edam, the cheddar or the parmesan? No. He selected three packages of plastic, pre sliced burger cheese and some of Gordon’s squirty nightmare and brought it back to the counter.

He unwrapped all three packs of cheese and began to layer the slices on top of the sugar in his homemade bowl.

“More sugar I think, it looks like it really needs a sugar crust.”

He reached for the sugar again and noticed his cornflakes for the first time.

“My breadcrumbs!”

He selected a spatula and proceed to lift up the entire cheesy, sugary mess and, holding that in one hand, opened the box (I say opened, but read ‘rips open the box with his teeth, spilling them everywhere as the sides give way’) and crumbles a thick layer onto the tin foil with his hand. Handful, crush in fist, dump onto foil, repeat.

Eventually he appeared satisfied with this and slid the sugar/cheese pile back on top of the cornflakes.

“Perfect. Now, sauce.”

If I had thought he would do the sensible thing and mix the sauce into the pasta, I obviously didn’t know Alan, because being sensible when cooking is not in his genes. He opened the jar (with much difficulty and a very quiet swear word that he thought we didn’t hear) and dumped its entire contents into the bowl.

“Awesome, look at me, I’m cooking!” he beamed proudly at his food monster.

“Yeah you are,” I agreed as cheerily as I could force out between gritted teeth.

“Deep breaths, love,” John whispered.

“You’ve said that before and it didn’t help then either,” I shot back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes it did, I can think of at least three times when that was very good advice.”

“Well I wasn’t thinking of those times, I was thinking of times that involved your brothers.”

“Oh, then no, but anything is worth trying.”

“Noted.”

The microwave dinged and Alan popped it open, grabbing the bowl.

“OWW!”

I was halfway out of my seat when John caught my arm and pulled me back down.

“Don’t make me sit on you,” he threatened.

I sighed and sat back down again.

Alan glared at the bowl like it had betrayed him, offended his ancestors and told him that the Cavern Quest servers were down.

He sighed heavily and poked at the pasta with a knife, a very sharp knife that I didn't believe he was mature enough to be holding.

"He knows how to use lasers to cut through metal, he can handle a knife," John reminded me.

"Only because you guys are stupid enough to give them to him," I argued.

"I’ve no idea if it’s cooked or not.”

Obviously deciding to risk it he picked up a large spoon which at least had draining holes and proceeded to ladle the pasta out in big, dripping spoonfuls (rather than using a colander like a sane person to drain the entire thing in one go) and dumped it one by one on top of the sauce.He didn't look like he was enjoying himself.

He sighed again, poking at the cheese. “There’s like, not even a five percent chance that this is going to work, is there? No chance at all. Absolutely none.”

He looked so defeated that I just wanted to hug him.

“Be strong, you can do this, he has to learn on his own some time,” John patted my hand encouragingly. I laced my fingers with his and held on tight for dear life, needing his strength and support more than I had ever done in my life before.

“More cheese will help, cheese fixes everything.” He grabbed the can and squirted the entire thing, slowly but surely, with many disgusting noises, on top of the pasta. He then sprinkled more sugar on “for luck” and added another layer of cheese slices.

“They do garlic bread with pasta don’t they?” he asked himself. Obviously deciding that yes, they did, he found a bread roll in the cupboard and hollowed out the middle.

Curious as to just what the heck he was trying to do, I peeked over John’s tablet, watching him like a hawk.

He scooped out four big spoonfuls of butter and dumped them in a small bowl, then squeezed out half a tube of garlic paste, mixed them together vigorously and then spooned the mess into the center of the roll.

At a loss as to what to do with his garlic bread bomb he popped it on top of his creation and stared at it for a moment or two.

“Oh! It needs to be toasted!”

He reached for the chef’s blow torch that lived beside the stove.

“Al-” I began but was silenced by John’s hand over my mouth.

“He has a rocket, he can handle a little fire.”

“Gahhh!” Alan waved his hand frantically, trying to put out the flame where he’d set fire to his glove. “Oww!” he yelled as said glove melted and welded itself to his palm.

I looked at John, both eyebrows raised communicating perfectly well, without words, the fact that I had told him so.

John dropped his head into his hands, muttering about idiot brothers.

Undeterred Alan artfully charred (burnt) the top of the bread roll and then began wrapping up his tin foil parcel, squeezing it, compacting it down small, and then added more foil.

“Can you put foil in the oven?” he asked us.

“Yes, you can,” John answered for me, knowing I wouldn't stick to just one bit of helpful information. “But you can never, ever, put metal in the microwave.”

“Ah, yeah, cool cool, I knew that, I was just testing you.”

“Sure you were,” John patted my knee again, reassuring me that everything was fine.

Alan picked up his aluminum foil wrapped parcel, holding it like a baby and looked around for the oven. Now, this is a big house, with a lot of people to cook for, so we have a lot of options here.

Unfortunately he selected the wrong one.

“1000 watts, that’ll do it.”

“No, Allie, that’s-”

He slammed the door shut and pushed the button.

Ping! Ting! Little sparks of lightning erupted in what was actually another microwave, not an oven at all.

Another spark, this time erupting from the microwave itself, not inside it, firing off towards us.

Alan ducked like someone had opened fire from outside, crouched on the floor, giggling nervously as the scary electrical box continued to conjure up random sounds and flickering lights.

Smoke was rising and, finally sensing that full disaster was imminent (good danger spotting skills there, babe, wouldn’t think that disasters were your job) John yanked me off the stool and pushed me under the table just as the microwave let out one last, long, loud, kitchen rumbling bang and went dark, smoke puffing out of it like a dejected steam train.

I picked myself up off the floor, using a hand on John’s head to steady myself and surveyed the destruction.

John did the same, staring at the bent door of the microwave in utter disbelief.

I opened my mouth but he hushed me with a finger on my lips, his eyes closed, praying for strength.

“No, don’t say a word.”

“Woah,” Alan coughed, flapping his hand at the offending smoke as he got to his feet, glancing at the remains of the thing that had turned out not to be an oven after all. “I think I’ll have to leave that alone for now. Any chance we can get Virg to pick up some take out?”

(This was inspired by a post my kid read out to me from a GQ interview with Robert Pattinson, I just adore that chaotic idiot. You can read it here.)

#alan tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds in isolation

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eraserhawks · 5 years

Note

Ooooh could you do Dabihawks + 20??

i haven’t forgotten about these, just been working on other projects. today really… hit this one into my head tho

[send me a ship and a prompt - soulmate aus]

20. the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you hear them say your name.

[bonus: dabi pov]

“Seriously?” Dabi snorted in laughter, eyeing Hawks up anddown. “You’re out here saying that you want to be a villain, that you want toabandon all of your dumbass heroic ideals, but you’re out here telling me tocall you by your hero name?”

Hawks had only gone by his real name to… one person in along time. Rumi had pushed him and pushed him until he finally let her call himeven by his last name. Said his hero name was too impersonal.

He agreed, but… well, he had been used to that one. Therewas nothing personal about his life.He was the number two hero, his entire life was for the world to see. There wasno room for a personal name or a personal life. He was Hawks and that’s what it was.

He supposed, if he were really doing this villain act, Dabidid have a… point. While he’d chosen Hawks for himself, it had been associatedwith him only since he started as a hero. It represented everything that he wasto the hero commission, and nothing that he was to himself. If he really wanted to be a villain, he’d wantnothing to do with it.

“You can’t blame me for not trusting you with somethingmore,” Hawks muttered, trying to recover from a lapse, a thought he hadn’t evenhad. He was Hawks. He’d never evenconsidered saying something else. There was nothing else that he had been, notfor years and years.

“You can’t blame me for not trusting the number two hero toactually want to be a hero when he wants me to call him his hero name.” Dabi’s palm was blazinglightly, an intimidation technique probably, but Hawks couldn’t tear his eyesaway from it. He swallowed, looking at Dabi.

Some of his sidekicks and bosses didn’t even know his realname. It wasn’t like it was a secret,it was just… it wasn’t important any more, not when he was just… Hawks.

So maybe Dabi was right.

He looked at him, letting his shoulders fall after a moment.“The heroes have been in my head since I was a kid. It’s not my fault fordefaulting to it,” Hawks said, looking up at Dabi. It was a vulnerability, andrevealed far more about him than he ever wanted to, but he had to do this. He had to get his trust. “Takami Keigo.”

“Takami,” Dabi repeated, raising his eyebrows. “And you’resure you’re serious about this?”

No. He was so far from sure. From the second the HeroCommission had come to him with this mission, he had thought it was a bad idea,but what else was he supposed to do? They wanted to defeat the villains; thiswas their best chance.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Hawks looked at Dabi,meeting his (bright blue, strangely familiar) eyes. “Now are we doing this ornot?”

“Welcome to the League, Takami Keigo,” Dabi drawled,followed by… something. Some sort of rules or requirements or expectations orwhatever it was that happened when you joined a group of villains but Hawksdidn’t hear a word.

A thrill had gone through his body when Dabi had said hisname. It wasn’t just the terror he had expected of hearing a villain knowsomething so personal.

It was a flash of blue light and unbearable heat, enoughthat Hawks had thought for a moment that Dabi had finished his statement byacting out and cremating Hawks on the spot.

But Hawks was definitelystill alive and in one piece. Which meant…

Well, he’d heard stories of it before. All sorts of overromanticized versions on the Internet, of the light being so bright thatsomething ridiculous happened.

This…

The villainstanding in front of Hawks was his soulmate.

“Are you even fucking listening, Takami?” Another flash ofheat shot through Hawks’ body and he swallowed, looking up at Dabi.

“Of course I am!” he said, faking a bright smile.

“Believable,” Dabi snorted. “I said you’re getting nowherenear Shigaraki until you’ve actually proven yourself. I still don’t trust you.”

“What will it take?” Hawks wanted out of this mission. Fucksoulmates. Dabi couldn’t be hissoulmate, right?

“I guess we’ll find out.” Dabi smirked, extinguishing hispalms and waving to Hawks. “See you around, Keigo!”

Hawks’ feathers sharpened at the careless use of his firstname, and he yelled after Dabi, who just laughed in response.

Hawks tried to ignore the very noticeable heat in his chest.He could ignore this.

He couldn’t ignore this.

He had been meeting with Dabi for a few weeks now, and Dabi’scareless use of his name continued, like it was nothing. He didn’t know thereaction Hawks had every time he heard his name, and Hawks was no closer toknowing anything about him. Dabi hadno idea who he was, not really.

The heroes seemed excited even by the breadcrumbs that Hawksbrought back. They told him he was doing well, that they were making goodprogress on piecing together who Dabi was and what the League was doing.

All Keigo knew was that he had to get out of the mission soon.

Every time Dabi spoke, Hawks fell a little harder.

He couldn’t deny Dabi was hot, once you got past all of the scarring and staples (and, no,Keigo had never thought about how hotDabi was even with the staples and scars. Of course he wasn’t hot). He had a weird dry sense of humor, and hewas… well, for a villain, he was genuine.

None of those were the mostconcerning, though. That was the way that Dabi was slowly shifting all ofHawks’ opinions.

That was when Dabi went on a rant about how fake heroeswere, and how the Hero Commission were hiding all sorts of shit with theirfigureheads. That was Hawks listening to him, thinking about how he hadn’tknown Takami Keigo for years, until avillain reminded him he existed. That was Dabi going through list after list ofthings the heroes had done wrong, and…

And Hawks seeing all of it.

He was just being convinced because they were soulmates,right? Dabi couldn’t have good points. It had to be something about Keigoover-romanticizing the concept of soulmates.

It had to do with the fact that one thing had led to anotherand suddenly Keigo’s lips were on Dabi’s one day, and then -

And then it kept happening until it wasn’t only kissing and-

And one of Hawks’ sidekicks walked into his office one daywith a terrified look on their face, telling him that the Hero Commission leadswere demanding an emergency meeting.

And Hawks being handed papers with bright red writingstating Dabi’s real name, and a demand for arrest.

Hawks stared at the papers in his hands, swallowing deeplyand trying to convince himself he was wrong. He had been sent on a mission butthis was…

“Tomorrow?” Hawks asked quietly, folding the papers in hislap. “We’re arresting D… Touyatomorrow?”

It was the first time he’d said that name. It felt nodifferent to him, but he wasn’t the one that would affect.

To Hawks, it was just another name. To Dabi, it was…

It was what finally made his name his again. It was what took Keigo from something left in the dusthis wings swept up as he shot his way to the top to something that was him again. The flash of light and warmththat shot through his body every time that Dabi said it.

Touya was just another name to Hawks. To Dabi, it would be…it would change his life, or at least his understandingof life.

If only he could have done this under differentcircumstances.

Tomorrow came too fast, and Hawks waited impatiently at hisapartment for Dabi to show up. He paced through the room, his wings jerking atevery small noise. The police were stationed in the other room as well as onthe ground in case things went wrong.

Dabi slid in through the window after a moment and hegrinned at Hawks. “Couldn’t wait to see me, Keigo?”

Keigo shivered, ignoring the heat rushing through his bodylike it always did. “I’m glad you know you’re a bootycall,” he answeredtauntingly, collapsing onto his bed and motioning Dabi forward.

Dabi snorted, walking up to him and kissing him. “You’re anidiot.”

“You love me,” Hawks said, trying to keep his desperationout of the words. He didn’t deserve this. Dabi had no idea what was coming, itwas clear. Hawks shouldn’t be asking for this.

“You know I do, birdbrain.” Dabi ruffled his hair andKeigo’s heart started to shatter. He had to get this over with.

“I do too,” Keigowhispered. He leaned forward, taking Dabi’s hands and resting their foreheadstogether. The heroes watching probably thought this was an amazing act, a trueact of mercy from Hawks. He just had to do this and then he was free from themission that had probably been weighing him down and forcing him to suffer forso long.

Keigo choked a little on the words the first time beforekissing Dabi softly, sliding the handcuffs from his pocket. He kept their lipstogether and took Dabi’s hands gently, wrapping his own wrists around them tohold him in place. It wasn’t an uncommon gesture for the two of them. Hawksliked to hold his hands when they kissed, to hold him in place, to havecontrol.

Hawks disconnected two small feathers from his wings,guiding them to his hands and taking the handcuffs with them. In a surge, hekissed Dabi deeper, distracting him long enough to get the handcuffs around hiswrists. Dabi’s eyes snapped open, and he clearly wanted to make a snarkycomment before he realized what was happening. Before he realized that thehandcuffs were limiting his quirk, before he realized that Hawks was backingaway.

“Todoroki Touya,” Hawks whispered, his voice quieter than hehad anticipated. He breathed in before finishing, “You’re under arrest.”

As the police burst in, Hawks saw Dabi (Touya, his soulmate) widen his eyes, suddenly realizing what hadjust happened. Getting that flash and burst of heat that Hawks had felt months ago, when he first met Dabi.

He couldn’t look away fast enough to miss the betrayal.

“Good job, Hawks.” A police officer patted him on the backand Hawks forced a smile onto his face.

For the first time in far too long, that was the name that felt empty.

What did Hawkseven mean?

#bnha #hawks #dabi #dabihawks #todoroki touya #takami keigo #hotwings #bnha fic #my fic #thishasbeencary #wow would you look at those tags #hawks has a fucking NAME #i was Trying something witht eh second half with the name switches #where keigo was personal hawks #and hawks was. hero hawks #idk if it worked but i was Trying #mighty cute dragon #ask

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stanskzseungmin · 5 years

Text

Operation Miroh | Stray Kids Mafia! AU ~ Chapter 8

Sorry this one took a while. I was trying a different more disjointed writing style to try and create the imagery for this chapter. Took a while because I trashed and redid this chapter like 4 times lmao. Hope you enjoy it <3

~Masterlist~

Chapters: 0.1, 0.2, 0.3, 0.4, 0.5, 0.6, 0.7, 0.8, 0.9

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7

The atmosphere was tense.

The heavy stench of death lingered.

There were so little activity yet it felt as if the dead were back with a vengeance.

Heavy panting can be heard as a pair of hands grab at the screen before them.

The pristine beach is now a mass grave.

The beautiful clean sand that almost seemed to glow and glisten breathtakingly under the hot sun on a clear yet cloudy day.

Somewhere else in the meantime.

It was dark and silent. There were barely any lights. The only lights presents were blinking and on the verge of dying.

The air that once permeated with mutual content and comfort that a family shared, was now tense as a chill traveled up all of the building’s inhabitants' spines. There was no loud yelling. No laughter. No pitter pattering of feet. Just a dark and silent home where ten lived in harmony.

But of the ten, two were not present: one on the verge of death.

The sea sparkled a brilliant blue hue, The dark color perfectly complemented the clear blue sky.

The silence was distrubed by a loud metal clattering. There were loud exhales and gasps of disbelief. The medic/engineer collided with the metal cart of supplies behind him as his hands frantically grabbed at the cool metal to maintain balance. His eyes were blown out in shock as panic and fear wracked through his system as it got harder and harder to breathe.

The clean beachside front is now polluted and littered with rubble and residue, The tan grains of sand now dyed and stained a brilliant red. The pristine clean and clear water is now filled with lifeless corpses, the bodies floating and swaying with the waves as their faces remained frozen in a silent scream and dead eyes.

An explosion can be heard in the distance. A demolitionist was in full sprint towards the so called “Paradise.” As he ran, he was pursued, but the pursuers were quickly disposed of by the demolitionist dropping homemade pocket C4 like breadcrumbs.

The medic/engineers stared at the third screen down on the left column in horror. The once vibrant green screen signifying excellent health now glowed a menacing red. A sharp contrast to the eight greens surrounding and a singular almost as worrisome orange.

The red screen.

리노

The heartbeat monitor displayed with a brilliant flashing red orange light has a singular word displaying on the lower left corner of the screen.

DANGER

With haste, the medic/engineer barrelled out the room and down the hallway. The name of his leader erupted from his throat repeatedly as the inhabitants of the rooms past sprung out of the rooms appearing in the doorways ready, alert and worried.

The demolitionist stood before two unconscious bodies. A pool of blood surrounded the pair as his shoes stepped into the darkening pool staining the dirt beneath him.

He delicately pried the smaller body off the toxin specialist and very carefully slung both bodies over either shoulders.

“Seungmin! Put me down!” You exclaimed lightly hitting his back lightly with your balled fists.

The chemistry student merely smirked at your immature antics.

The two of you weren’t friends per se, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call the both of you enemies. You were a bit of a goody two shoes and always go out of your way to report all suspicious activity on the campus. You had caught Seungmin picking on Jisung again and went up to the chemist to write him up. As per usual, Seungmin wasn’t having it. He never would.

And here you are now, pathetically slung over his shoulder as he carried you away. You knew where he was taking you. He took you there every time.

Seungmin pulled open the door of one of the more deserted janitor’s closet. It was so out of the way that it’s hardly any janitor’s first choice and it most definitely have a lack of nearby students. Hardly any students passed by here due to the shady and creepy atmosphere.

Even though the walled in city was safe, the paranoia of the dangers outside still lingered. The deserted hallways felt as if it had a distorted reality. There was no present danger but any who walked by without the proper constitution would get so wracked by paranoia where the imagined dangers seemed real.

In the dark dusty room with a singular hanging bulb, Seungmin would toss you onto the ground. Your bottom met the floor ungracefully as Seungmin closed the door behind him quite harshly. The impact sent vibrations through the walls that would unsettle the dust as vision would slightly get hindered by the particles. You let out a small whine from the stinging pain radiating from the impact. Before you can protest or chide him, Seungmin would kneel before you and pull you into a bone crushing embrace and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

Your arms protest, grabbing and pushing at him and sometimes digging your nails into his shoulders in a dire attempt to make him let you go. Seungmin would let out a small puppy whine and pouted. You felt your defenses weaken at the sound and wanted nothing more but to let him in. Before you even had a chance to raise your arms to return the embrace, Seungmin would pull away with a shit-eating smirk as he brought his index finger to his lips ordering your silence.

Seungmin was already out and gone with the door shut as he left before you could properly register what just happened, your mind still puddy from your lowered defenses.

A soft click echoed through the silence.

Every time.

Seungmin got you every time.

And everytime you still lowered your defenses to let him in.

Only for him to leave you alone like a deer in headlights.

You swore Seungmin only existed to make your life a living hell. You always thought it was a waste of talent for a practically math genius Seungmin to pick on people. You knew blackmail when you see it.

Doesn’t mean you had immunity towards it. Not towards Seungmin at least.

You noticed how Seungmin and two others hanging around one of the campus’ empty buildings. You recognized the two being top students in their respective subjects.

They were definitely doing shady stuff.

Today however, looks as if it was only Seungmin that’s present. You never saw the other two from your not so discreet hiding spot under the shade of a tree with your nose pressed into a book.

You rushed to follow Seungmin into the building once you see him disappear behind the closing door.

You didn’t take that long to enter after the boy. You made it in before the door closed completely, but it seemed as if Seungmin vanished into midair.

Sighing to yourself, you began walking down the dimly lit hallway and peeked into every passing door’s window pane. You noticed how the hallways cameras were all facing down, the led next to the lens were off.

Why were the cameras off?

You also noticed the smoke detectors were also disabled.

Your thoughts were cut off when you heard a loud explosion ripped through the silence. Your ears rang lightly as it seemed as if the world was moving.

“Seungmin?” You breathed out. Panic bubbled deep within your chest. “Seungmin? SEUNGMIN!”

“Wow, you can’t leave me alone, huh?”

You whipped around to see Seungmin himself in the flesh perfectly fine and uninjured just his attire and visage covered in dark soot. You let out a loud sigh of relief as you ran up to him wrapping your arms around his frame in a bone crushing embrace.

“Alright, dummy,” Seungmin chuckled patting your back lightly. “Did you really have that little faith in me that you genuinely thought I was hurt?”

Seungmin rubbed your back in circles as his other hand rested gently on your waist. You mumbled softly into his shoulders. “Absolutely not. Not at all. You’re totally bonkers, insane. You’re going to scale this building and I’m going to have to write you up. Or worse, writing an autopsy report.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin whispered into your ear resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I wasn’t serious.”

“I was.”

You pulled back slightly in confusion to see a genuine smile on his face with his eyes show a loving and touched emotion. You felt your lips twitch upwards upon sight of him looking so vulnera-

“Now stop stalking me, dummy creeper.”

You would most definitely hear a pin drop from the silence that followed.

You fell for it again.

“Wow [by 3RACHA], you actually came,” you perked up from the bench you were sitting on.

“Of course I did, dummy,” Seungmin smiled, putting his hands into his black hoodie pocket.

“No fucking with Felix?” you jested with a smirk playing on your lips.

“Do you not realize who I am?” Seungmin scoffed. “Let’s just say Felix won’t be leaving detention without being griefed.”

“You customized an exit denial device didn’t you?”

“Ooooh yea,” Seungmin chuckled.

“It’s not an ice bucket above the door is it?”

“Lame.”

“Oh dear,” you hand went up to your cheek in worry for the freckled Australian.

“So how am I going to get up there?” Seungmin pointed to the roof, his eyes never leaving yours wearing a face of disbelief.

“Uhh… parkour?”

Seungmin quirked an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I didn’t think that far ahead...” you looked off to the side rubbing the back of your neck nervously.

“You give me a boost and launched me up there?”

“Bad idea.”

“I stand on your shoulder and you stand up?” Seungmin suggested slinging his arm around your shoulders while pointing upwards with his index finger.

“Even worse,” you shrugged off his arm.

“So what do you suggest?”

“Just get on my back, I’ll carry you up.”

“Your noodle arms can carry me?”

. . .

“I hate this place,” Seungmin mumbled. His arms were loosely wrapped around your shoulders with his legs finding purchase hooked onto your waist, his chest flush against your back.

You let out a loud exhale as you gripped on the window sill. You looked back to see Seungmin gazing longingly at the wall. That damned wall.

“What do you want to do?” You whispered as you continued your climb.

“I want to destroy the wall.”

Your hand reached over the edge of the roof one after another as you pulled the both of you up.

“You do know what is out there, right?” you settled down on the cold roof, bringing your knees to your chest,

“Yea,” Seungmin sat next to you pulling you into his lap as you both gaze at the wall. At your vantage point, you can see beyond the tall concrete walls lined with barbed wire at the top.

“The walls protect us from dangers outside. So many mafias and gangs. So much corruption. That doesn't include all the murders and kidnappings.”

“But what if the true dangers aren’t what is out there? But in here? Those mafias exist for a reason. What if they’re rebelling against something from inside? The people here are hardly people anymore. They’re sheeple that can be herded by the shepherd called the government.”

“I don’t want to become like them,” you whispered. “What if the schools existed only to turn us all into sheeple, brainwashing us into the same system. Schools only exist to condition people to work 8 hours a day. I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to lose my humanity.”

“You won’t. I promise,” Seungmin whispered into your hair. “You see past the wall, right?”

“It’s dark and empty.”

“I know. Dark, so we won’t be attracted to the government’s light like moths only to discover it’s a flame and empty, so we could be free without any restrictions.”

“Wait, we?” you whispered, shock evident in your voice and you broke free from his embrace to face him.

“Of course, dummy,” Seungmin smiled genuinely. “I promise.”

Seungmin thought to himself right then and there, ‘I’ll get you out of here, I promise.’

“This better not be one of your stupid blackmails again, Shit-min.”

. . .

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worldcakecakecake · 5 years

Text

The Angel of Venice

Ludwig is an archeologist who gets a big assignment of researching a recently discovered statue. As he is doing his usual inspection with his touches against the stone, he ends up breaking part of a curse that turns the statue human.

Feliciano was cursed long ago, why and how he does not know, continuing to suffer transformations from stone to skin. Ludwig intends to fix this and find answers. Together they will traverse Europe looking for clues, stories and even an adventure that would help them solve the mystery and break the full curse before it’s too late.

Bad news, the draft page is emptying and the next chapter might not be completely done, if so…prepare that a hiatus for this story might come while I fill the draft page once again. If so, I will announce it so in this blog. If I do post a next chapter, then surely afterwards is the hiatus.

Chapter 3

Feliciano had transformed in the early morning, stretching and yawning as if he had just risen from a bed. It was the sight to welcome Ludwig as he came into the living room, cup of coffee in his hand along with a set of clothing.

“First thing is first, Feliciano, I need you to understand well that you have to dress yourself from every transformation. I don’t want you walking around here in the nude and I don’t want others who don’t know you well to see you like this. It’s not the norm, neither suggested, got it?” He repeated it well, Feliciano nodding, taking this new set of clothes and beginning to dress himself in this openness of the room. Luckily Ludwig had closed the curtains so there wouldn’t be any peeking from perverted neighbors.

Feliciano wore a simple cream shirt, along with white jeans, Ludwig later thinking that perhaps he should have saved it for something else instead of remaining at the apartment. As he ushered him to come to the kitchen, Feliciano noticed the new addition of a board, his name written quite gorgeously at the top, the rest was just a time table of different activities as well as a blank area written with the time and hours his statue form had taken.

“That’s a schedule of your activities for the next week. I’ll be introducing and preparing you about everything in this time era, so you can well adjust,” Ludwig explained, pulling Feliciano to focus on his closeness to the counter. “First of all, I’m going to show you how a kitchen works, so you know what to do if you get hungry and I’m not around or asleep.”

He kept him close as he guided him, explaining the difference between the freezer and the refrigerator, where, why and how he placed the items inside, and any new foods Feliciano hadn’t seen before. He showed him how to work the oven, the microwave, blender, grill, sink, coffee machine, where the pans, pots, bowls and any other utensils he could accompanying in his cooking were located. He showed him all the other food packets in their cabinets, the lights, the window, even the cookbooks.

To make sure Feliciano had understood, Ludwig helped him in boiling a simple pasta, along with other ingredients to make as its sauce. Sure, there were dirtied spots in his kitchen now and at one point Feliciano had flared the fire high, but he was able to make them something for their lunch.

Other hours were set for proper German and English lessons, and for Italian, he would just place him to see and hear some Italian TV and radio. He explained all historical occurrences from 1620 till now, how to use the television, the radio, the lights, the bathroom, even the visitor bedroom that would be his in the meantime. He repeated well that if he wanted to sleep, he should do so there…not in his bed.

Feliciano spent the next three days stuck in Ludwig’s apartment, Ludwig doing well and writing down his transformations, varied, but he was starting to get a pattern that he would tell Roderich when he returned. On the fourth day, Ludwig decided to dare and bring Feliciano out into the city. They could have a simple stroll and then get some groceries. Yes, simple, but Ludwig was terrified. After the pattern he had gotten, he decided that at the soonest human turning, he would change, and they would go out. They had twelve hours before he would turn to his statue form, which was more than enough.

“Always stay close to me. Don’t wander, don’t listen and pay attention to absolutely anybody. Any questions keep them to yourself and I’ll answer them when we return. Understand?” A mantra Feliciano had to hide was annoying him.

The day was a cold one, and Ludwig cursed he didn’t buy Feliciano warmer clothes. Perhaps they could get him more things in this stroll. In the meantime, Feliciano had to wear one of Ludwig’s old coats, large on his small figure, but he found it comfortable, testing out by swinging his sleeve, buttons, even the long tails. A pure child making his way down the streets, while Ludwig stressed, ordering still how they could move about without getting too much attention.

“Lidl would be a good start, then we can go to Hirmer…or Hollister.”

Feliciano spun on behind him, distracted with the trees and buildings. How he could keep behind Ludwig was quite a feat.

“Lidl and Hollister, and back. Yes, that will do.” He turned to have Feliciano crash against him. Feliciano disorientated, trying to get himself back on order. “Feliciano, don’t play around. Walk like a normal person and don’t act like such a fool,” he scolded, taking him by the arm and dragging him the rest of the resting way to the supermarket.

Feliciano had been stunned by so much light, by the various number of items well organized into this large room. New things, new processes, new doings. He dropped many packages, opened and just ate a cup of chocolate mousse, plus took longer than expected in the check out because Feliciano couldn’t hold well all the items…leaving Ludwig with just buying a couple of bags to carry them better, which he wanted to avoid.

“I don’t know if I want to take you back to a supermarket,” Ludwig annoyed.

“Aw, but I liked it,” Feliciano said despite, making Ludwig roll his eyes.

Their trip to Hollister was much more successful. Ludwig this time let Feliciano chose what he wanted, quite a fine selection that made Ludwig see that Feliciano had quite a fashionable taste…for someone from the seventeenth century. They headed back quickly afterwards, Ludwig shutting the door in an instant, tempted to slide down to the floor in relief.

“Okay, mission accomplished, now let’s organize all your clothes in your closet.”

He led Feliciano to his room, both working to hang the newly gotten clothes in the wardrobe.

“How about I let you choose what you want for dinner.”

“Oh, oh, can you make that weird…meat thing in breadcrumbs you made two nights ago!”

“Schnitzel?”

“Yeah, that! …And pasta too!” Of course, a meal was not a meal to Feliciano without pasta involved. Sadly, he could not complete it, as he turned half way through it.

They continued on faithfully to the schedule, Feliciano eager and excited for everything, doing well to sit obediently to Ludwig’s teachings. The blond found it all quite endearing, excited himself to teach him everything he knew. That glow in his eyes was an enchanting one he had to admit.

It was while they were working on some English exercises from a workbook, they received the disruptive entrance of Roderich. He made loud sounds and dropped everything rather messily, odd to Ludwig to the point of thinking he had been dreaming. Well, with all this noise and disruption he would have awaken easily.

“Ah, you are awake!” Roderich smiled in welcome to Feliciano…only Feliciano.

“Yes! And I had a really good night sleep!”

“I meant that…you aren’t a statue right now.”

“Oh yeah…that too.”

“I figured you got the files,” Ludwig wanted to hope.

“Indeed!” He took out a file from his nearest bag, placing it on the table on top of their work and notes.

Ludwig instantly went for its grasp, opening it to reveal several copies of baptism certifications, elders in form of old manuscripts, shapes and even writing. There were some that Ludwig could barely understand.

“Feliciano, are you sure that’s actually your name and not your surname?” Roderich asked, Ludwig noticing that most of the people mentioned in these files held it as just a family name.

“Yes, I’m sure! I’m…I’m remembering that my mother gave me that name because she said I was a happy and smiling baby.” He was sure, neither Ludwig and Roderich could deny. Ludwig continued through the files.

“Ah, you remembered something else. Do you remember your mother’s name by any chance?”

“I…think, um, I’m remembering the face of a woman, young, she…looks an awful lot like me,” he chuckled with a saddened tone that had the two other men staring in concern. “But…it’s all I can get…and I don’t…remember her name.” He looked down in defeat, the most hurtful Ludwig had seen in not being able to remind of something so important as his mother. “But yes, Feliciano is my name!” He tried to excite again.

“Well,” Roderich sighed, “I only found one file with a person mentioned as having that name.” It was just as Ludwig found it, one of the lasts in the file. He read through it, indeed a Feliciano mentioned, but it was under another woman’s, mentioned along with one extra name. He presented it forward for Feliciano to see.

“Do you recognize these people and this surname?”

Feliciano read, “Renata Valenti, Lovino Valenti and…Feliciano Valenti.”

There was silence, but it wasn’t long-lasting, the boy was soon standing in excitement, his next words shouted.

“That’s my name! That’s my full name!” He was jumping, all with a glorious glow that was the brightening of the sun inside that apartment.

Roderich smiled, and even Ludwig joined in that small celebration.

“So Valenti is your family name then?”

“Yes, I’m sure! And that’s-that’s my mother! And my brother!”

“You had a brother?”

“Yes! He was older by I think two years. He was usually really mean to other people, but very kind, devoted and sweet to those that mattered,” he smiled warmly.

“There’s a father missing though,” Roderich reminded as he eyed that parchment well, trying to find any hidden thing they missed.

“Or some paternal leader,” Ludwig added.

“What do you mean?” To Feliciano it was all well enough.

“From what we know of your times, Feliciano, it’s just impossible for your mother to be the head of your family…unless she was very wealthy, powerful or you were even an illegitimate child.” Since there was no hardened reaction and Feliciano just gazed on with more confusion, it didn’t seem he would be that case. They still needed to find out though.

“There’s nothing more but your name, but we do have a location to your mother’s birthplace and where she moved to after she lived and birthed you in Venice. We can try to find something about her there and end up finding more about you,” Roderich tried to alight with this piece, which earned a curious glow in Feliciano’s full expression.

“Where to then?” Ludwig wanted to head immediately.

“Florence, Italy.”

They took a flight three days from then, on a plane that had Feliciano panicking the entire way and had called the attention of the stewards and other passengers. At one point, Ludwig thought they would kick them out the plane midair. But they did it, they arrived safe.

“See, we’re here, Feliciano, on the ground, breathe, breathe, breathe,” Ludwig repeated as the boy kept a tightening hold on his arm as they headed out, hyperventilating and close to fainting.

They got in their taxi and made way to the center of the cradle of the renaissance. They managed a hotel with walking distance to all the famous sites, a sure gem for anyone who was visiting the city on a touristic journey. But none of the three came here for leisure, despite how Feliciano wanted to already see all the streets in that instant night of their arrival. They dined in a beautiful restaurant somewhere down the road, in open air, the dimmed atmosphere going well with the candles, old bricks and vines, a wonder that kept Feliciano widened throughout, rare to not focus on the appetizers of sliced meats that they ordered.

“Feliciano…eat,” Ludwig had to command him.

They returned to the room, curtains closed to hide Feliciano’s turning. They kept him in the most hidden corner in the room, being Ludwig’s only watch for whenever he had his eyes opened.

The next morning, Ludwig had to watch as Roderich changed, insisting Ludwig not to bother and join him.

“Where are you going?”

“Just another building with old archives.” Roderich himself dreaded to have to do this.

“You do know I can receive these accesses to find out myself,” Ludwig reminded.

“Actually, for these specific archives, you don’t. I already checked the list.”

“Then how come you did?”

“You’re not my only client, Ludwig. I had an internship here while I was an exchange student and got a lot of contacts. Let me make this easy for you and go myself. If I need you, I’ll call you and let you know about anything I discover.”

“I’m guessing you’re leaving me to babysit again,” he was already expecting.

“Precisely.”

“What am I supposed to do with him?”

“Show him around, stroll, eat, act like this is your holiday,” Roderich suggested.

“How kind of you. Any special reasoning on why I should do this?”

“I’m sure that Feliciano lived here at some point. A day or two around the city could probably help to jog his memory,” Roderich was confident, too highly Ludwig saw. “Show him as much as you can, especially things you knew were there for the early 1600s. Surround him with as much of his times as possible,” his last warning before he headed out, leaving Ludwig alone with a waiting statue.

“It’s gelato,” Ludwig explained, taking from his own vanilla while Feliciano kept giving testing licks to his own raspberry. Truly like a child.

They stood in front of a small gelateria right next to their hotel, the day hot, both wrongly dressed in long sleeved buttoned shirts and jeans.

“Now come on, let’s go,” Ludwig hurried, dropping his napkin with the small empty pieces of his cone in the trash. Feliciano was only halfway through his, but following Ludwig’s lead, he dropped it all along, pouting and saddening at the loss. Ludwig sighed but didn’t bother explaining, just walking on and making sure that Feliciano walked by him.

“What are we going to do?”

“Sightsee. I’ll be taking you around Florence. Maybe you’ll end up remembering something.”

“You both mentioned that I used to live here.”

“Yes. How about this street? Do you recognize it?” Absolutely nothing could be hinted of such times, in fact, Ludwig knew that it was useless, but he wanted to test absolutely anything. Perhaps Santa Maria del Fiore was the only thing that stood the most obvious from his times, and Feliciano did stare at it for the longest time, trying to get a reach, but it wasn’t as Ludwig was expecting.

“Come on,” he ordered again.

It seemed he would have to try harder.

He took him to Ponte Vecchio in just a perfect shine that gave everything quite a color that left Feliciano in ultimate awe, even Ludwig. He bought him entrances into the Uffizi and the academia gallery, hoping that Feliciano would recognize any of those works. He took his time with many of the paintings and statues, noticing techniques and details that most tourist weren’t aware of. He would take Ludwig’s arm and go on with such depths that had Ludwig lost to his words, stilling and focusing. Yet, no new memories arrived.

They went to other museums, Ludwig brought him inside two churches and even the baptistery, but it was the same widened reaction of when something was new, the intrigue of any tourist surely.

It was the late afternoon when Ludwig decided to head back to the hotel, checking his phone constantly for the timing. He knew Feliciano had to turn soon.

“Is there any places with flowers and trees here?” Feliciano suddenly asked.

“Maybe a park or a villa or something,” Ludwig guessed, still focused on their singular route.

“Can you take me tomorrow morning?” He asked and pouted, in such an innocent expression that made Ludwig falter in his steps. He had to look away before he was hypnotized and persuaded.

“It really depends on what Roderich tell us, he’s-” speaking of which, his phone began ringing and vibrating with his call. He didn’t waste a second to answer.

“You have to come here quick.”

The archives were not that far from their distance, Ludwig and Feliciano arrived well in their haste. They were granted entrance by Roderich’s orders and they meet him in his own table, surrounded well by shelves with papers of antiquity, these kinds of files by his side, even some books he used to further research.

“You were quite complicated, Feliciano, but I did find something that will give us a big help.”

Roderich began showing them all the documents which mentioned Feliciano’s name, as well as informing all kinds of things that helped to create a bigger picture.

“Augusto Valenti was your grandfather, who was quite a powerful man. He owned lots of land and profited from the wine and products he sold.” Feliciano saw the written name and smiled warmly, remembering finally his face, his care, his wisdom, his kindness, his smile, the great ways he played with him as a child.

“Nonno…” he had to omit, as if he was calling him even from decades apart.

Roderich and Ludwig smiled as contently, but they had to continue.

“He only had one daughter. Your mother, Renata Valenti. Although there’s not much here about what exactly happened, apparently, she was involved with a man that was not favorable to your grandfather. Because of this, he took full custody of both you and your brother, which is why you held his surname,” Roderich explained, moving about the documents to show all the proof of where he learned this. Roderich expected Feliciano to further detail but he remained as confused in that aspect. It seemed they would not know much of Feliciano’s father for now.

“You were born in Venice but brought to live with your grandfather here in Florence. I assume it’s where you were even raised, but the biggest reason as to why I call you here is because of an apprenticeship you held while here.” Roderich kept exchanging documents until he found one topped with the name ‘Ezio Pellegrino’.

Feliciano instantly pointed to that name, caressing the old parchment as if he could touch him again. “Yes…he was my teacher! He taught me…many new things. I’m…remembering his classes clearly. I think we were five in total under his teaching. We were always experimenting with colors, so it was always covered in all kinds. He wanted us to use as many as possible, scolding whenever we only tried to use one or just two…I drew all kinds of things, but my favorite were…angels with flowers…” Feliciano was impressed with his own reminding, falling silent to just enjoy the sweet memories he had had missed.

“You were an artist…” Ludwig realized, amazed at how such a simple finding could be so grand.

Feliciano nodded sure, proud of his once talent. Now especially he gripped his hands, the want to draw and paint returning, wishing to do so that instant.

“Do you remember your paintings?” Roderich asked.

“I’m…remembering most of them, yes,” Feliciano realized.

“Do you remember where you left any of them?”

Feliciano tried hard to think, but nothing reached, denying with a shake that was like a pierce.

“Do you remember your sketchbook?”

“Sketchbook? Isn’t that too specific?” Ludwig had to question. Roderich shushed him, wanting only Feliciano to speak.

That silence yet again, only hurting Feliciano more to deny once again.

“Lucky for you-” Roderich pulled out a weathered old leather book, opening to reveal surely notes that had belonged to Feliciano’s teacher. “-your teacher mentioned he took you all on a trip to Brussels.” Roderich waited once again for Feliciano to alight. He continued, “he wrote you lost your sketchbook there…he mentions you were devastated, and he really wished he could have done something to get it back…he says you had incredible things drawn there.” Feliciano continued to be as lost, that detail not alighting in his mind no matter how saddening it had been in his past.

“You can’t…remember that?” Ludwig questioned gently.

“No…I don’t remember that,” he gloomed, taking a defeated seat on the chair he had been offered when they had entered the room. The excitement had been too much, he just couldn’t stay still, but now everything was grey again. Roderich and Ludwig could only give him his silence for now, not knowing words of comfort. Ludwig had to hold himself from reaching a hand to caress at a shoulder.

“What about this sketchbook?” Ludwig returned, hoping to change the downpour in the air.

“Well…I was thinking about…searching for it…” Roderich shyly admitted.

“Look for it? Roderich, this sketchbook is centuries old. It could have easily been destroyed long ago or in the hands of some collector in America.”

Feliciano stood, wanting to distract himself in the ancient books that surrounded, not wanting to think about this right now.

“Nothing can hurt by trying.”

“This will take weeks.”

“Not unless we search in the right place.”

“Any ideas on where to start?”

“Yes, I do.” And Roderich gave a smirk that was enough for Ludwig to understand, already groaning at what would surely be the suggestion.

“Are you serious?”

“She’s the best we got right now.”

“We’re not even entirely sure it could still be in Brussels.”

“We never know, Ludwig. Do you still have her number?”

“I can make some calls…still don’t know if she would be willing to help after…”

“You dumped her in a family dinner.”

“…I know…it wasn’t the best way, well…that relationship wasn’t even the best choice, but I get it, I was rude and…I didn’t think it well through, but you have to understand I was under a lot of pressure.”

“Why do you always have to excuse yourself like this every time I mention it?” Roderich laughed.

“Because you won’t let me live it down.”

“Just call her and get straight to the point…maybe she won’t eat you and actually give you what you need.”

“For my sake, I hope so,” Ludwig sighed, turning to Feliciano, who was poking at one of the books.

“Should Feliciano come with us?” Roderich questioned.

“We can’t leave him alone.”

“A babysitter perhaps?”

Ludwig gazed to him, omitting how idiotic the idea was. “You said it yourself, we’ll need him with us for everything.”

“How do you think she’ll react once she sees him?”

“Why does it matter?”

“She’ll get ideas.”

“What-” a glow caught their eye, one that created instant panic, standing. They wanted to hope it was just the lighting of the room, something wrong with one of the lightbulbs, but no, it was the worst that could happen. Feliciano’s transformation, right in the center of that area, statue once again, this rare magic uncaring of where they found themselves. Roderich and Ludwig instantly surrounded it in silence, stuttering words, keeping their arms expanded to try and hide it from anyone who could be passing by.

“What the hell, what the hell, what the hell,” Roderich repeated.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Ludwig wanted to be quick, looking everywhere, hoping for some sign or idea to arrive, as well as just watching for anybody.

“How weird will it look dragging it across the city?”

“Very! I thought it was obvious enough not to suggest!”

“This is Florence! Statues are surely being dragged about constantly!”

“Not a statue that has been on the news and is supposed to be in my flat in Munich!”

“Well, what other idea do you have?”

“Um…” Ludwig continued to look about, until luckily his eyes landed on a plastic cover well between some old items in the shelves. He fetched for it, already unwrapping and extending with clear to cover the statue.

“We need more than that!” Roderich scolded, still watching the halls for anyone that might enter.

“There’s nothing else!” Ludwig told him harshly in turn as he put it over Feliciano, the fabric enough to keep everything, not a single inch of marble to be seen.

“Now what?”

“We…” Ludwig really wished he had better ideas, “…carry it back to the hotel.”

Roderich stared with stupefaction, Ludwig already reading all the insults in that gaze. “We clearly can’t do anything else!”

“This is insane, this is insane, this is insane,” Roderich repeated to himself as he rubbed his temple and tried to control his breathing.

“Now, come on, help me,” Ludwig began to haul without a moment’s hesitation, keeping watch of where they had to go. Roderich was on the verge of crying his desperation, but ended up having to help in the carrying, too much for his smaller figure, and Ludwig knew well he was carrying the biggest force, but he managed. He tried to think it was just another exercise regimen. Luckily Roderich had been given a special entrance card, with which he could head out of the deeper archives without any wanderers or eyes. Sadly they could not hide anything from the receptionist, who watched with clear question, remembering that neither of these men had brought such a large item, that they didn’t even have something like this in their holding in the building…and where was even that third fellow?

“Just something…I left a long time ago here,” Roderich tried to excuse in the calmest smile he could utter.

She was new, and he was well known in the archives, as well as there was truth in the fact that he did use to leave a lot of things behind in the past when he was a student. Hopefully she wouldn’t mention anything to the rest, and if she did, they would just be confused and not pursue more on it.

They managed to head out, down the crowded streets, through different crosses, blocks, street signals and small parks where they rested. Sure, they got heavy stares, but nothing too questioning, nothing too out of the ordinary for Florence. They arrived to the hotel with the receptionists asking heavy questions. Somehow Ludwig and Roderich having convinced them that they just bought a replica and so finally they managed to get into their room, falling dead on their beds once the door and the curtains were well shut.

“You don’t pay me enough,” Roderich commented lastly. Ludwig only groaned and didn’t utter anything else.

With the night, they headed to their rest, Ludwig promising Roderich that he would try to call…her…tomorrow morning…which meant he wasn’t looking forward to the next coming day at all.

< chapter 2 chapter 4 >

#the angel of venice #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

19 notes · View notes

jihoonmi · 5 years

Note

what is your honest opinion on spencer? what is he actually to you?

✧ ┊ honesty hour ┅┅┅┅ accepting ( mentioned: @mixspencer )

( warning: death, blood, sexual content, unhealthy relationship?? actually obscenely long )

he smiles at the mention of his name, instinctively, something almost soft for a moment, but it evens out, more thoughtful, until it turns troubled. this is a question he most definitely doesn’t want to answer– one he dodges every time it comes up in his mind, because no matter what he decides, he never likes his answer. he doesn’t know what answer he would like. maybe there just isn’t one. “spencer is…a friend,” he says, even though it’s an understatement. his lips quirk up in a momentary smile again. “he’s cute, isn’t he?”

it started with a gunshot. no, maybe it started before then. it started with spencer’s interview– the first one jihoon was ever in charge of, shortly after he became manager, nerves still almost on fire, expectations still weighing him down, even if he never admitted it. in came spencer, charming smiles and casual air, and something a little daring that jihoon could just sense. he saw it all as a business venture: the disposition to charm customers, to rake in tips, and to stand firm in the face of the crow’s nest’s danger. he tried to think of what his father would do (his father would like him, surely), and then figured regardless, it was his decision to make– his first significant decision. ultimately, it was an easy one.

he fit in swimmingly, friendly and exuberant, always welcome energy, and he learned not to bat an eye at the grit. “he’s good at his job,” jihoon begins, slowly, measuredly, because he thinks it’s important. that was the first thing he knew about him– the first thing that mattered to him. “it didn’t take him long to become part of the unit that the crow’s nest is as a staff. i think spencer is just good at that. he…melts people. it’s easy for anyone to feel comfortable with him. he’s just likable like that.”

the first time spencer saw jihoon’s true colors– no beaming smiles, aegyo free, no easy teasing, no constant undercurrent of manufactured warmth –was six months later, the early, still-dark hours of the morning after halloween, and then the gunshot. jihoon didn’t hesitate. he would’ve done it for anyone that worked with him; he considered them all a type of family, and it was his job to protect them– that simple. it was that simple for jihoon. a gun pointed at spencer’s head got you a bullet through your own, no question’s asked, no second chances. he didn’t realize until after the fact that it wasn’t that simple for spencer. of course it wasn’t. even jihoon, worn down, unfazed, battle scarred, bloody handed, understood that much. jihoon apologized, sorry, a rare word to leave his lips. it wasn’t the sudden addition of blood to his clothes, but the way spencer recovered, or maybe it was spencer not wanting to be alone. spencer, back at his house, borrowing jihoon’s clothes, on his couch as jihoon washed the bloodstains out, the fading of the still-night into the later morning, neither of the getting much sleep. they went to breakfast; jihoon asked, in case it would make him feel better, still lingering in the realm of sincerity, so they went, and spencer still came back to work the same. “he’s tougher than he looks. i realized after i shot a guy in front of him and he still came back to work that he was different,” and jihoon grins. “he’s solid, and dependable, and he’s just…spencer. unapologetically so, always honest, always sincere, always…easy to read. his heart is on his sleeve, i think.” maybe jihoon’s taken it. maybe he’s afraid of what he’ll do with it– what he’s already done. “but i like that about him.” he likes all of that about him.

that moment was when jihoon wandered into his gravity– the slight shift in his orbit. it was spencer seeing him, and what he was capable of, and not being afraid. sometimes jihoon welcomed the fear. sometimes he relished in it, but this time, he was grateful for different. there spencer was with no less smiles for him, no less joking, no less light-hearted slacking with hard work to make up for it. it would be easy enough to think things never changed, but jihoon never tried to convince himself of that. he felt the shift, and maybe it came with spencer knowing what jihoon would do for him. (he would’ve done it again for him. he still would. he would do worse for him.)

trust built up, and jihoon’s stares lingered for too long, intentionally, but if spencer ever noticed it didn’t show. “he’s stupid,” jihoon laughs, a little empty. “oblivious, but maybe on purpose. he knows what he’s doing and doesn’t at the same time, somehow, or at least that’s how i’ve always thought of him.” he pauses, and the next part is equal parts difficult and easy to admit. it used to be easier, but now it feels heavier on his tongue, like there’s new weight. “after i shot that guy– after he saw me and didn’t treat me any differently, i was sort of fascinated by him. he didn’t make sense to me, so i wanted to figure him out.” obsessively. a new fixation, manifesting in subtle flirting, subtle favoritism, and something possessive– something unsatisfied, jihoon always pushing boundaries.

“think i wanted to get in his pants for months,” he admits, straight-faced for a moment before he bursts into laughter. “i say ‘i think’ like i didn’t know. i knew.” he knew exactly what he was doing, too: trail of breadcrumbs, bait placed, trap awaiting, sprung inevitably. spencer kissed him first. jihoon set up the opportunity, but spencer didn’t have to. (maybe it’s a pattern now. jihoon sets everything up and spencer keeps wandering in even with chances to get out. maybe jihoon likes that about him too, even though he shouldn’t.)

it was a snowball from there, lightspeed progression, longer kisses, never stopping, and do you want to get out of here and the answer was yes. spencer’s apartment, heated hands, all hunger and urgency and fire, something teetering on explosive, only interrupted with an arm wrestling match to settle a very important matter. resume: i’ll be gentle unless you don’t want me to be, and perhaps the rest is history, but jihoon needs to run through history to find his answer. immediately after: fucking finally, six months of build up, this larger-than-should-be fraction of purpose in his life finally settled.

he intended to leave before spencer woke up, a clear indication of how serious about this he wasn’t, but something kept him. maybe it was just that magnetism, the pull, spencer’s ever-present unfathomable magic, like the mysteries of the universe were right at jihoon’s fingertips, hidden in the freckles on spencer’s face. maybe it was lingering, compulsive curiosity to see what spencer looked like with sunbeams in his eyes up close, or maybe because they had a day off when they woke up anyway; maybe he wanted to see if he could find any regret in his expression. “spencer doesn’t regret anything,” he says, an easy observation. “even when he should.” it’s appropriately ominous.

(jihoon woke up next to him, spencer whined and complained about all of the pain he was in, and jihoon rubbed his back until he fell asleep again. when fear crept in, jihoon saw himself out, gone before he could wake up again, but they were still on for that movie.)

it was both different and the same after that, similar interactions as before with concealed intensity, everything supercharged. more sloppy kisses, more stumbling into spencer’s apartment, more time in his bed, sometimes staying, sometimes going. “he’s…magnetic– addictive. i thought i had good self control, but,” a short laugh, almost a scoff. “why have self control when you can have spencer?”

none of it meant much to jihoon: kisses, hookups– all trademarks of his existence, empty and weightless, no strings attached, but the strings with spencer came earlier, forged over life and death and blood, and jihoon couldn’t quite break them. “it didn’t mean much to me,” jihoon feels the need to specify. “it started mattering less to mess with each day. not that spencer didn’t matter to me, because he did, and he does, but…the being more than friends. i thought i wanted it for so long but once i got it, i just…” he hums, trying to think of how to explain it. “it lost its appeal? spencer didn’t, i just…” he stops because it doesn’t make sense. it didn’t mean much, past tense, but he doesn’t know if it matters more now.

the first kiss that means anything to him comes after his life is thrust into chaos with the arrival and refused removal of jihoon’s little brother. with his arrival comes constant fear of replacement, constant fear of loss, constant fear of his life as he knows it slipping out of his hands, and there’s spencer with reassurance that jisu can’t steal him, so he kisses him, and it’s lighter and softer and different. “he’s important to me,” and that much jihoon can admit. “my life would be so boring without him,” and he grins. that much has probably been true since not long after he met him, even without everything extra.

everyone tells him this is a bad idea. keep it professional. this is going to get in the way of work. be careful with him. be smart about this. this should end before it gets out of hand. jihoon rebelled against it at first, rejection of authority after he became one, constant desire to control instead of be controlled, but as time stretched on, their words stuck around like ghosts in his mind. the more time stretched on, the more he started to care– about spencer, about his wellbeing, about the inbalance. he suspected from the start that spencer liked him more than jihoon liked spencer, but as time stretched on the fear of spencer’s attachment pressed in, and jihoon’s inability to develop any feelings beyond attraction and fixation.

“i tried to make all of this stop the day after my birthday,” he begins, like it’s the opening of a new chapter in them in a book whose existence he still denies. “at least i thought about it. i was going to, based on how he answered me when i asked him what does this mean to you?” he pauses, eyes distant, boring a hole in some far-off horizon. “i was thinking about breaking off…whatever we were doing…before, too, but i woke up that day thinking about how much i would miss him.” the words feel heavy on his tongue, still foreign. “he said 'i like it. i like you,’” and jihoon laughs a little, almost akin to nervous, but the smile that accompanies it stays on his face a little longer, gaze drifting down to his feet before he looks up again. “and i liked that– hearing that, but i made him ask me what it means to me too, so i could say it didn’t matter as much to me as it did to him, and it doesn’t.” maybe spencer himself matters to him the same as jihoon means to spencer, but that’s different than potential feelings that jihoon doesn’t know how to have– doesn’t know if he’s even capable of. it was why he started that conversation in the first place. he cared about spencer. in an incredibly rare show of selflessness and regard for someone else’s feelings, he gave him a way out.

“do you know what he said?” jihoon asks, a rhetorical question, eyes narrowed. “he said ’that’s okay.’” he shakes his head, another scoff-like laugh, because that was a very dangerous answer, for someone as self-centered and unfeeling as jihoon. “i told him i wasn’t convinced, but that didn’t change his mind. i didn’t know what to do. it was like…a war between the part of me that knew spencer deserved more than i could give him, and the part of me that wanted to keep him anyway. it was like fighting against my nature, because my nature is to take as much as anyone will ever give me and give back as little as i can. spencer had a lot to give me. i could tell, and that was…intoxicating.”

“but i told him we should stop,” and that’s the important part. the part of him that cared enough fought its way through and out of his lips. “i told him i liked him, but not enough, and that i didn’t think it was okay, and he said that’s okay too.” he still can’t really believe it. he wonders if spencer realized how much that was like putting his entire life in jihoon’s hands, and how much jihoon always craves that power. “i told him 'if i was being selfish i could do this forever,’ and he said he was okay with selfish. i told him i was going to make him regret that, because i’m really selfish, and i meant it. but spencer doesn’t regret anything, even when he should.” he falls quiet, vacant stare, something dark lurking in his eyes. “what am i going to do after that, say no?”

“i don’t know if i regret saying that or not: if i was being selfish i could do this forever. i don’t know if i really can do it forever, knowing how much i’m going to take from him, but i know i could. the part of me that wants to is still bigger than the part of me that doesn’t. he deserves better than me, but i don’t want to give it to him. i don’t know if i could give it to him, even if i wanted to. i don’t know if i’m capable of better than this, and i don’t want him to have better from someone else. ” he waits, consideration, before he says what he really means, and what he’s really meant this whole time: “i think i’m going to destroy him, but…i don’t know if i care. i kind of want to do that too.”

#mixspencer #&hh #&hh1 #& // this wasn't the first hh in my askbox but #posting first for reasons that will soon be seen #this is unbelievably long but there was a lot to bring to dash #since chanel was out of town for weeks adfasdgd #so here's your spencehoon crash course mi dash!! ig!!#Anonymous

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bleachhaven · 3 years

Text

Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 2/6

Here is the highly requested Part 2!! I know I said it was going to be a 2-part series but it turns out I have a lot to say about Shunsui getting the romancing he deserves...so it’ll be a bit longer than expected.

I’m always excited to hear your feedback!

Read Part 1 first!

Dear Shunsui,

It’s been a while since I last saw your face, and I find myself missing you.

I confess, thoughts of you have me distracted. I keep looking for you no matter where I am, hoping to catch just a glimpse of you.

—

She found herself staring at the parchment for a while, contemplating the dilemma she was truly in. She was in the process of writing another letter to him. Another one that he might not even read let alone take seriously. It had her sighing at the hopelessness of the whole situation.

In the end, a letter or two snuck into the Soutaicho’s office would be as close as she would get to romancing him. He was the most powerful man in the Gotei 13. She, a lowly third seat, had no hopes of catching his attention let alone his love. To him, she might as well be a newborn shinigami who had no clue about anything.

What hope did she really have? None, that’s what.

But to her...he was more than just the Soutaicho. So much more.

It brightened up her day to see him in that ridiculously pink kimono. He was probably the most handsomest man she had ever seen. While most men look almost too pretty, Shunsui was so manly. The hair smattering that chest, peaking through his uniform did terrible things to her. The way those grey eyes would look at someone...not that she’d been truly privileged to have them on her in her time as a shinigami. Maybe a passing glance at best. Direct eye contact might have had her bursting into flames on the spot! The eye patch didn’t make him seem any less. In fact it seemed to add just a bit of a dangerous aura to him that only worked to make him seem even more attractive to her.

He was always kind to everyone, always teasing, always smiling that lazy smile of his. She had been sad to notice that he smiled less and less nowadays.

She had been slowly falling for him while he was still in the Eighth. Even then, he was way out of her league but now they might as well be from two different planets. Their statuses in life felt that far apart.

Her being hopelessly and endlessly in love with Kyouraku Shunsui was the reason why she hadn’t been able to date anyone in over a decade. Not that she minded. Any man she knew couldn’t hold a candle to what he made her feel.

She didn’t begin writing these love letters for the Soutaicho because she had any hope of him reading them and reciprocating her feelings. She maybe naive and romantic, but she wasn’t stupid enough to have such foolish hopes. She knew there was no chance of him finding out who she was. She wouldn’t get in any trouble. So it just felt like a safe way to brighten up his day and give an outlet for her pent up feelings. But then one letter became two. Then two letters became a weekly thing that she looked forward to — sharing her thoughts with him even if he had no clue who she was.

It was still hers. This was just theirs. And maybe it could be enough. If this was all she could have, it had to be enough.

She was so deep in thought, contemplating the futility of her love story, that when someone walked into the room, she was completely taken off guard. But realizing who exactly it was had her blushing like a startstruck fool while she rushed to hide the parchment she was writing on. For there stood the object of her affection himself squinting down at her in confusion.

“Soutaicho!” She gasped.

Oh. My. God. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Oh good lord. How embarrassing would it be if she actually passed out and that ended up being his first ever impression of her? This was the worst thing that could ever happen to her. The absolute worst considering she could feel her cheeks flush even redder.

— — —

Shunsui wasn't Yamaji. He wasn’t one to sit in an office or be strictly all business. It wasn’t in him to be that way.

In fact, even Nanao-chan insisted that he try to stick to being his wandering self so that he could hold on to the truest parts of himself while he was handling the responsibilities of being Soutaicho, without having the title absorbing him whole. He wanted to cultivate his own traditions in the Gotei 13 rather than adhere to the old ones, doing everything exactly the same way they had been done for a millennia or more. Rigidity could spell death. For the Gotei. And also for his sanity.

One of his favorite traditions so far would be his impromptu visits to the other divisions. It wouldn't ever be formal, though the other Taichos never seemed to get that memo. He just liked to know if the Gotei was doing alright under his care. What better way to know than to see it for himself?

Kuchiki Rukia had just become the Captain of Squad 13, and that squad held a special place in his heart after all. Why wouldn’t he want to check up on her?

Fine. Who was he fooling? That was not the reason he was here at all. The moment he left his office, his feet were drawn to Squad 13 and the ugendo purely out of habit. It wasn’t until he was already there, startling the squad’s third seat out of some paperwork that he realized where he really was.

“Soutaicho!” The third seat, whose pretty face he remembered but the name he couldn’t recall, stood up instantly, shuffling her papers around hastily. “I...I..uhm...I didn’t realize...”

The door opened and Rukia walked out interrupting the poor girl’s stammering. “It’s alright, _____-san. I think he’s here to see me.”

“I thought I forgot a scheduled inspection, Taicho!”

Rukia looked at him as if to ask if that was the case, but they both knew it wasn’t. After all, it wasn’t the first time that Shunsui had wandered only to end up here.

Just the same, he wanted to put them at ease. “You’re not in trouble,” he said with a smile. “I just felt like a walk and I thought I’d come see the new Taicho.”

The third seat, still probably mesmerized by Shunsui and the fact that she was actually standing before the Soutaicho of the Gotei 13 itself, stared at him with wide eyes. She was a tiny little thing. Barely reaching even the top of his shoulders. And in that moment, she looked a bit like a doe caught in headlights.

“You go on ahead, _____-san,” Rukia said gently, taking pity on her subordinate. “The workday is already over. We can finish the rest of the paperwork tomorrow.”

“Oh! Uhm...yes, Taicho!” _____-san said. Then she turned to Shunsui and bowed before making a very hasty exit.

The scent of lemons that softly teased his nostrils as she rushed past him was the first breadcrumb. Looking back at that moment, he would think so. But in that moment, he didn’t really make note of it all.

His mind was too busy trying to think of an excuse to give Rukia for randomly showing up. One that wouldn’t have her feeling too sad for him.

Besides it made perfect sense when Rukia offered him lemonade that the third seat usually made for the squad once in a while to keep up their morale on summer days. What else would smell like lemons if not delicious lemonade?

———

When Shunsui reached back to the office to see if Nanao-Chan had anything more he had to attend to before he headed out, the office was empty.

But there at the center of his desk was a carefully placed envelope with his name written in the same beautiful handwriting he had grown to know so well and wait for with anticipation.

Dear Shunsui,

It’s been a while since I last saw your face and I find myself missing you. I confess, thoughts of you have me distracted. I keep looking for you no matter where I am, hoping to catch just a glimpse of you.

And in the rare moment that I do, I wish I could just run up to you and greet you with a kiss. As if you were truly mine.

I see the sadness you hope no one would notice. I see how it lingers even when you smile. You could never know how much I wish I could take away the pain but I know that is beyond me.

So I wish I could just hold you close and maybe make you forget the rest of the world and the weight upon your shoulders. I wish I would get a moment to make you smile just so I can kiss the curve of your lips.

But my love must remain confined here to ink and paper and that breaks my heart.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

—

This one tugged his heart in the strangest way and had him holding the letter close to his chest.

He did indeed have people around him. People who respected him. People who revered him. People who flirted with him and the ones he flirted back with.

Yet he longed for the kind of companionship in which even proximity could offer comfort. In which even silence could soothe him.

These letters started out silly and romantic and seductive...all things he definitely enjoyed.

But now, on a day like this, when he felt too low and too alone, this letter had him yearning too. It had him hoping, and wishing in a way he hadn’t felt the need to in a millennia.

He had to find her. He just had to.

——

Read Part 3 next.

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#bleach #bleach anime #bleach imagines #kyouraku shunsui x reader #shunsui kyouraku x reader #shunsui kyouraku #kyouraku shunsui #bleach x reader

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mary-magizoologist · 6 years

Text

Series Rewrite|Wendigo - Part 3

Characters: Reader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Pairing: eventual Sam x Reader

Words: 2462

Summary: based on the second episode of the first season of the show.

Warnings: language, show level angst and violence.

A/N: here goes the second part of my series rewrite. Hope you guys like it! This is not beta’d. All mistakes are mine.

Catch up

Wendigo - Part 3

When Sam and Dean got back after not finding Roy, the group remained at the campsite. Sam and you took a sit against a hollow tree stump, holding John's journal and playing with the rosary attached to it. Dean, Haley, and Ben are among the tents.

You sigh, watching the serious and concerned expression on Sam’s face.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you smile at him.

He looks down at you, flashing a small smile, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Look, I just-,” you make a pause, “I know you guys are more like the type of shove everything in and keep it inside you, but I want you to know that I’m here if you need to talk and vent. Or yell.”

He chuckles, “I know, thank you. I’m just still processing all of this, my dad leaving and… And Jessica. That’s all.”

You nod. “We should go back with the others and try to finish off this Wendigo before the night falls on our heads,” you make a fake scared face, making Sam’s laugh.

He stands up and extends his hand to you, you take it and he lifts you up.

“Let’s go,” he grins at you, rubbing your arm with his hand, while he still holds your hand with the other.

The two of you walk back to the tents in a comfortable silence.

“Hey,” you and Sam greet and Haley stands up.

“So,” Sam continues, “we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I... for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch.”

“Yeah,” you not, “And we gotta move fast to seize the daylight, we don’t want to be here with that thing running around when the sun comes down.”

“Well, hell, you know I'm in,” Dean says.

Sam shows the wendigo page of John's journal to Haley and Ben. “'Wendigo' is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours'.”

“They're hundreds of years old,” Dean continues, “Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.”

“How's a man turn into one of those things?” Haley asks.

Dean picks a couple things up off the ground.

“Well, it's always the same,” you answer her. “Mostly, during some harsh winter, a person finds themselves starving, cut off from supplies or help, leaving with no other choice but to eat another human. Becomes a cannibal in order to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp.”

“Like the Donner Party,” Ben says.

“Exactly,” you nod at him.

“Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality,” Sam explains.

“If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this... less than human thing. You're always hungry,” Dean follows.

“So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?” Haley shakes her head.

“I don’t think you're not gonna like it,” you mumble, taking a glance at Dean and Sam, then back to Haley.

“Tell me,” she demands.

“More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food,” Dean starts to explain, looking at Ben and Haley. “It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake it keeps its victims alive. It, uh, it stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there.”

“And then how do we stop it?” Haley asks.

“Well,” you start, “guns are useless, so are knives. Basically—”

“We gotta torch the sucker,” Dean finishes, holding up a can of lighter fluid, a beer bottle, and a white cloth he'd picked up.

You began walking through the woods, with Dean leading the way with a Molotov cocktail in his hand. Haley is behind him, followed by Ben, and then Sam and you. After a while, you start to see that several trees have bloody claw marks in its barks.

Sam stops and you stand next to him.

“What the hell?” you whisper.

“They are very clear, aren’t they?” he asks you.

“Yeah,” you nod, “This seems to be way too easy.”

“Dean,” Sam calls.

“What is it?” he inquired catching up with you.

The three of you take a look at the claw marks on the trees.

“You know,” Sam whispered, “I was thinking, those claw prints, so clear and distinct. They were almost too easy to follow.”

After a quiet pause, you hear growling. You whip around and you can see some trees rustle.

You look at Haley just in time to see something like blood dripping on her jacket making you frown. “What the hell?” you mumble. And when she notices and looks up, she screams and leaps out of the way and Roy's corpse falls exactly where she was standing.

You and Dean examine Roy and Sam goes to help Haley.

“You okay?” he asks her, “You got it?”

“His neck's broke,” you tell Dean.

Sam helps Haley to stand up and you hear more angry growling.

“Okay, run, run, run, run, go, go, go!” Dean yells and everybody takes off running away.

Dean and Haley are ahead of the group, and suddenly you see Ben falling and you hurry back to help him up, Sam runs to help both of you, and that made the group divide.

“Come on, I gotcha, I gotcha,” Sam breathes.

The three of you began to run again to catch up with Dean and Haley and you hear Haley screaming.

“Haley!” Ben yells for her sister.

When you stop running, Sam crouches and picks up Dean's Molotov cocktail, the bottle broken, he stands up and looks around

“Dean!” he shouts.

Sam, Ben and you kept walking around trying to find a way of finding Dean and Haley.

“If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?” Ben asked.

“Honestly?” said Sam, “I think because Roy shot at it, pissed it off.”

“Yeah, that’s the most probable reason of why it killed him,” you agreed.

Ben kept walking ahead of the two of you, and he crouched to pick something from the floor.

“They went this way,” he tells you.

Sam and you catch up to Ben, and he hands over what he picked up. It was an M&M. Sam and you laugh.

“Oh, Dean,” you shake your head.

“It's better than breadcrumbs,” Sam smiles, tossing the M&M away.

The three of you follow the trail, arriving at a mine entrance marked with a sign that reads ‘Warning” Danger! Do not enter. Extremely Toxic Material’. Sam looks at Ben and you, you shrug at him and he walks inside, followed by you and Ben.

Sam and you turned on your flashlights and shine ahead of you. You hear growling again; as fast as you can you shut off your flashlights and Sam pull Ben and you against the wall. The Wendigo comes towards you and thankfully keeps walking taking the opposite direction. Sam covers Ben's mouth before he can scream. Once the coast seemed to be clear, you keep going. The floorboards under you creaked and when you stand still they break and the three of you fall through the floor. You take a look only to realize you landed on a pile of bones.

“Oh God,” you mumble, looking around.

Ben spots them too and leaps backward.

“Hey, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay,” Sam tries to calm him down.

Looking up, you can spot Dean and Haley hanging by their wrists from the ceiling.

“Hey, Sam,” you call him, “Over there.”

You all stand up, Sam and you run to Dean, and Ben runs to Haley.

“Dean!” Sam tries to wake him up.

“Haley, wake up!” Ben call for her.

Sam grabs Dean by the collar and shakes him.

“Dean!” you call him.

He opens his eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah,” he winces.

“Haley, Haley, wake up, wake up!” Ben talks to her.

While Sa, cuts Dean down and you help Ben to take down Haley and move her. You move to an empty patch of floor and get them to sit down. Dean makes pained noises.

“You sure you're all right?” you ask him.

“Yeah. Yep,” he grimaces, “Where is he?”

“I think he's gone for now,” you answer him.

Haley takes off her ropes and stands up, she walks towards a guy still hanging. You walk closer and you see it’s her brother.

“Tommy…” she starts crying.

She touches Tommy’s cheek and he jerks up awake. She jumps back and shrieks, turning to Sam. “Cut him down,” she pleads.

Sam does as she asked and cut his ropes and helped him to sit on the floor.

“Hi,” she greets him and he smiles.

“Man...” he breathes.

“We're gonna get you home,” she tells him.

“Check it out,” Dean tells you.

You turn around and walk to him.

“Flare guns,” you smile with eyes wide open.

“Those’ll work,” Sam grins.

Dean chuckles and twirls the guns on his hands.

The six of you head down a tunnel, Dean and Sam are in the lead, you follow them, the three of you holding the flare guns. Haley and Ben are supporting Tommy and helping him move because he’s limping. You hear growling again.

“That son a bitch is back,” you mumble.

“Looks like someone's home for supper,” Dean announces.

“We'll never outrun it,” Haley states.

Dean looks back at the rest of you. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam breathes.

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking…,” you look at him, “Then no. We’re not doing that.”

“All right, listen to me,” he commands, ignoring you, “Stay with Y/N and Sam. He's gonna get you out of here.”

You shake your head.

“What are you gonna do?” Haley asks.

Dean winks at her and starts walking and yelling."Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good.”

“Remind me to kill him if we get out of here in one peace,” you tell Sam, and he chuckles.

You wait until Dean is a safe distance away.

“All right, come on! Hurry!”

The rest of you start following Sam, hurrying down the tunnel. You stop when you hear growling. Sam points the gun at both sides, then lowers the gun and turns to you.

“Get him outta here,” he tells Haley then turns to you, “You go with them.”

You look at him wide-eyed.

“Sam, no,” Haley complains.

“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here, Sam,” you state.

“Go,” he says again. “Go! Go!”

“Come on, Haley,” Ben calls her sister, and the three of them leave.

“Go with them,” Sam tells you.

“I told you I’m not leaving you alone.”

Sam looks at you, his lips in a thin line.

“I’m not going anywhere until I got you and Dean out here. End of discussion,” you stand your ground. “Let’s move,” you turn around.

Both of you hold the flare guns ready to shoot, looking down the tunnel, and then you hide lyings against a wall.

“Come on. Come on,” Sam mumbles.

You hear growling again. You frown and in sync Sam and you turn your heads to your rights. The Wendigo is right in your faces. Both of you move away from the wall, shoot and miss because it moved to fast.

“Fuck,” you shout and you run after the Collinses.

“Sam! Y/N!” Haley shouts.

You both catch up with them.

“Come on, hurry, hurry, hurry,” Sam urges.

You run to the end of the tunnel, and the Wendigo is right behind you.

“Get behind me,” Sam says.

The Collinses stay behind him and you stand next to Sam. The Wendigo approaches you, taking its time.

“Hey!” you hear Dean yell.

The Wendigo turns around to look at him and Dean shoots it in the stomach. The flare goes off and the Wendigo goes up in flames.

“Not bad, huh?”

Sam grins and you shake your head.

When you finally manage to get out of the mine, it’s already night and the six of you go back to the Ranger Station. There you call an ambulance and the police. The ambulance loads up Tom. Dean is a little far away talking to Haley. Sam and you stay with Ben while he’s being interviewed by a police officer. You agreed that you would tell you’ve been attacked by a huge and heavy grizzly bear.

“And the bear came back again after you yelled at it?” The officer asked.

“That's when it circled the campsite,” Ben answered. “I mean, this grizzly must have weighed eight hundred, nine hundred pounds.”

Sam and you nod in agreement.

“All right, we'll go after it first thing,” he says and leaves.

The three of you walk up to Haley and Dean and she turns around. “Let's go,” she tells Ben.

Sam and Ben nod at each other and you smile at him.

Haley kisses Dean on the cheek, and he looks a little bit surprised.

“I hope you find your father,” she mumbles and turns around. “Thanks, Sam. Thanks, Y/N,” she says and hugs Ben and climb in the ambulance with Tommy, who’s shirtless and bandaged, laying on a stretcher.

Sam and you take a sit on the hood of the Impala next to Dean, watching the Collinses leave.

“Man, I hate camping,” Dean says.

“Me too,” Sam agrees.

You snort, “I’m never hiking anymore. It’s forever ruined.”

“You never went hiking in your life,” Dean said.

“Well, I could have… But Wendigos, dude.”

Dean and Sam smile at you and shake their heads.

“Wuss,” Sam jokes.

"Right back at you," you smile at him.

You’re distracted then by the noises of the ambulance driving away, sirens on.

“Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?” Dean asks Sam

Sam nods. “Yeah, I know,” he breathes. “But in the meantime?” he smiles and looks at Dean, “I'm driving.”

Dean looks down and tosses the keys to Sam who catches it in the air.

You grin at your boys and get up and go to the back door. The three of you get in and slam the door almost in sync, starting your journey again, driving along the notes of Fly by Night by Rush.

Next Part

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nocteverbascio · 7 years

Text

lintz - what i left behind (21-22/?)

Pairing: Sydney Katz/Maggie Lin Summary: AU. Post S3, when Sydney leaves, she leaves for good. Without realizing it, Maggie feels like something is missing in her life. The story where Sydney leaves breadcrumbs for Maggie to follow but Maggie doesn’t realize it. A/N: a little bit of fake dating? but y’all already dating?

ao3 link

xxi

Sydney wrings her fingers as she waits for Dr. Bell to finish with her parents. She hates that she can’t talk sense into her parents. The feeling that they can’t even see her as their daughter anymore makes her feel even worse.

She takes a deep breathe as she tries to be patient. Unfortunately, patience has never been her strong suit.

There’s been multiple times that Sydney’s felt restless. When the longing in her heart grows too overwhelming for her to stay in her home, Sydney finds herself at the airport. It’s irrational and impulsive, but she does it anyway against her better judgment. She doesn’t buy an airplane ticket and take the first flight out every time an opportunity comes by, but she stares at the boards.

All of her work and how far she’s come, but she keeps looking back at the boards for flights that say Toronto, ON. Most of the time, she looks for flights for when they leave from London. She thinks about getting on one, making her way back to where she truly longs to be. On the rarest occasion, Sydney finds herself looking at the inbound flights, wondering when the one from Toronto would arrive.

So much has changed for her in more ways that one. Ever since she met Maggie, it’s like her whole life has changed for the better. She had always been sure of her ability as a doctor, but Maggie opened her eyes to being a more compassionate and empathetic doctor. She couldn’t work off of her passion any longer, when clearly there was more that she could do for her patients on a spiritual and emotional level. Maggie herself was awe-inspiring to Sydney because there was this verve and passion that they both had for their profession, but Maggie exuded it in all aspects of her life. Sydney was jealous that Maggie could be so open and sure about herself but Sydney’s learned from that. Now she feels more sure of herself than she’s ever felt in her life.

It’s why she couldn’t stop thinking about Maggie. Maggie was a brilliant and talented OB. She had hands in all kinds of surgeries that Sydney’s long since left behind since choosing her specialty. But she was so much more than that to Sydney.

No one could compare to Maggie in the OR and in her life.

It’s very rare for Sydney to feel regret in the choices she’s made but Maggie is the only almost she constantly thinks about. She’d wondered if they could’ve been friends if she said goodbye. She wondered what their relationship would’ve been like if they kept in contact after she left Cleveland. But most of all, she wondered if they could’ve been together if she just asked her.

Sydney couldn’t deny their attraction to one another. It was clear to see that no matter how much they tried to be friends, they weren’t going to be just friends. Sydney had always had a schoolgirl crush on Maggie after they’d first met. She never had a chance against Maggie.

After last night, Sydney only feels the weight in her chest anchoring her to stay.

The door opens suddenly and Sydney turns her attention to see her father and mother with Dr. Bell trailing behind. Her father looks at her angrily, still red faced, and before she can even open her mouth, he brushes by her quickly, muttering for her mother to follow. Her mother walks out after him, not without shooting Sydney a disappointed look.

“Dr. Katz, how nice to see you,” Dawn greets as she moves back into her office, already knowing what was going to happen.

“Dr. Bell, I just wanted to come by and let you know that I was the one that encouraged my sister to seek Dr. Lin’s care,” Sydney informs quickly, “What my mother and father may have informed you about my relationship with Dr. Lin is nothing more than speculation. Dr. Lin has been nothing but professional in taking care of Becca.”

Dawn sits back in her chair, staring at Sydney with a raised eyebrow. “Here I was about to congratulate you and Dr. Lin your relationship,” she says dryly as she stares.

Sydney stares at Dawn in confusion because she’s never been able to read the woman’s demeanor. “Dr. Bell, I promise you that my relationship with Dr. Lin is not a conflict of interest in providing care to her patient. I sought Maggie out because of her trial study and hoped that she would be able to find a spot for Becca, when that became moot, I asked her to remain as Becca’s surgeon because I knew the quality of her work was incomparable to anyone else in this hospital.”

Dawn’s lips curl into a small smile. “Of course,” she agrees, again unreadable to Sydney, “you were her mentor.”

Sydney blushes at the mention. She has a feeling that by the way Dawn is staring at her, Dawn just knows they were more than just mentor and mentee.

Dawn doesn’t let Sydney settle on that thought too long, already moving on with, “Unless your parents lodge a formal complaint against Maggie, there’s not much that needs to be done. From what I hear, your sister is stable and clear to continue her chemo treatments after rest. The only thing I would suggest is that you can minimize public displays of affection, but this is a free country and you are both consenting adults.” There’s a small smirk on Dawn’s lips that makes Sydney blush.

“We aren’t--”

“Dawn, I know you’re going to say something to me so I’d rather just get it over with now,” Maggie suddenly comes through the door in a huff before realizing Sydney is standing there.

Sydney smiles as Maggie stops in her tracks with her wide eyes and button nose flared. She notices the darkening marks at the base of Maggie’s neck from earlier and quickly averts her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie instantly apologizes, “I should’ve checked if someone was in here.” She pauses before looking at Sydney, continuing her quick ramble. “I actually was about to come find you after I talk to Dawn because I was going to bring you to the airport.”

“It’s fine, Dr. Lin,” Dawn says casually. Sydney finds it odd for Dr. Bell to sound so relaxed and familiar with Maggie. Then again, she remembers that so much time has passed since she left Hope Zion, of course everyone’s changed just a bit. “I was suggesting to Dr. Katz that you two could be mindful of your PDA in front her parents especially to avoid a formal complaint in the future.”

“Dawn…,” Maggie regards with an adorable blush. She glances at Sydney.

Sydney stares like a deer in headlights before she realizes that Maggie is waiting for her to respond to this. She doesn’t know how though and she stares between the two women, wondering why she’s suddenly caught in the middle. Was it her decision to talk about what her relationship with Maggie was? All she could think was that she needed to talk to Maggie before anyone else about what they were.

She has to admit she feels a little bit less confused about where she and Maggie are going with their relationship. Maggie coming to her defense and daringly kissing her in front of her parents says more than Maggie realizes. It isn’t just some facade and nothing about how they regard each other is simply friendly. She just need to let Maggie know.

Sydney squares her shoulders and nods in agreement, “Of course, Dr. Bell.” She looks at Maggie furtively. “Maggie and I have no problem being professional from now on.”

xxii

“Maggie and I have no problem being professional from now on,” Sydney says so confidently that Maggie feels her heart drop in her chest.

Professional. Okay. Professional is good. Professional is fine. Professional is...a really terrible idea.

Maggie can’t do that. She can’t just be professional with Sydney. How could this happen? Just a few minutes ago, Maggie was so sure that Sydney would give them an opportunity to talk about what they were.

Dawn nods for both of them to leave her office and now it’s just them. Maggie and Sydney walking side by side down the halls to her office. And Sydney is leaving.

“So is this it?” Maggie practically blurts out as she enters her office after Sydney. Sydney turns around, surprised. “Are we just saying goodbye and forgetting about what happened between us?”

She can’t fight the frustration inside of her any longer, not with the way Sydney just seems so calm and serene about the whole situation.

Sydney shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, Maggie,” she breathes out heavily. “We aren’t going to forget what happened between us.” She steps back into Maggie’s space and stares up into her eyes.

“But what you said to Dawn, about us being professional,” Maggie points out, feels like she’s being petulant but it’s uncontrollable. “I thought we were more than that.”

“We are,” Sydney interjects quickly, putting her hands on Maggie’s upper arms, trying to soothe her. "We're a lot more."

Maggie feels her chest tighten because she really doesn’t want to ignore everything that’s happened between them. Everything is much more intense now that Sydney is there, the electricity between them is the attraction that brings them together. It’s much harder to ignore now.

“Then why does it feel like we’re not on the same page?”

“Because we’re not.”

Maggie frowns at this, ready to step out of Sydney’s grasp but Sydney holds on.

“I thought this could wait,” Sydney sighs out as she glances at Maggie’s lips. There’s a small sardonic smile on her lips as she shakes her head. “Maggie, just listen to me okay?”

Maggie isn’t sure what to expect anymore but she nods because she doesn’t know what more she can say. She wants to tell Sydney to stay here, be with her, and start their lives together finally.

“From the moment I became a doctor, I knew that I always wanted to work at the very best hospitals. And I wouldn’t give that up, not for anyone,” she admits quietly. “It’s taken me to so many different places and so far from home. I’ve learned, changed, and grown from all of my experiences. But when I think about how I’ve become the person that I am today, I think of you. You’re the person that changed my life, you were there when I was too afraid to be truly happy with myself. You’re the only almost I think about.”

“Then stay,” Maggie murmurs almost inaudibly. She doesn’t know what makes her say it, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that she wants Sydney there with her.

Sydney gives her a look that makes Maggie feel a bit sheepish. She smiles affectionately though, brushing aside a stray strand of hair from Maggie’s face. Honestly, Maggie hadn’t even noticed, she just thinks Sydney is making an excuse to touch her. Then Sydney leans in.

Maggie’s heart flutters as their lips meet. Sydney’s soft lips press against hers and she’s kissing back automatically.

Sydney pulls back with a deep sigh. “Maggie…,” she practically groans, “you make it very difficult for me to leave.”

“Then stay,” Maggie suggests with a little more courage. She knows she’s being selfish. She pulls Sydney into a hug to emphasize her point.

“Maybe you should come with me,” Sydney suggests instead.

Maggie groans and she feels Sydney laughing against her chest. “You have no idea how much I want to. When I was just a fellow, I kept wanting more, so I kept doing more and more. Then when I found out you were in London, you have no idea how many times I wanted to hop on a plane and go see you.”

Sydney buries her face in Maggie’s neck. “I thought about coming back to Toronto too.”

“Why do we have to be so successful?” she complains to Sydney. She strokes the red locks comfortingly, breathing her in.

“Because that’s just who we are,” Sydney answers ruefully. Much to Maggie’s dismay because she’d already known the answer, she just doesn’t want to admit it.

They stand there for a little longer, holding each other like it's the last time they're going to do that. It hurts to think that they'll be apart, but if it were any other circumstance the outcome would be different. Both of them know that at this point, they can’t just give up everything they've worked for. They're rooted where they are now with their lives and careers.

“What are we going to do?” Maggie asks, shooting in the dark. She refuses to believe there's nothing they can do. They've made miracles happen as doctors.

Sydney looks at her, biting the inside of her cheek. “I don't know.” But she does know, Maggie can tell by the way Sydney looks at her with longing bright eyes. She wants Maggie to go back to London with her and be together.

Maggie wants nothing more than that but her rationality is too strong. Both of them are too rational.

#lintz #maggie x sydney #sydney x maggie #saving hope #slow burn #turn of the story?#sydney perspective #is she going to stay or nah?

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