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sio-writes · 1 year

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Witch's Gambit - Chapter 2

Summary: Lucy Breban, a witch living in the magical city of Grayslate, has just found out her good friend has been murdered in cold blood. When the cops dismiss the case, Lucy must employ the help of her reclusive, skeletal neighbor Weston when the answers the police provide aren't enough. As they get closer to the truth (as well as each other), the two begin to unravel an underground secret that could rock the very foundations of the place they call home.

<< Chapter 1

The following handful of days are monotonous. I drift through them in a haze, stuck on autopilot because anything else is too overwhellming. Customers come in, customers go out. All the while, my mind is buzzing, my thoughts an incessant fly around my head.

I wave goodbye to Elliot as the coroner's vehicle rolls down the street. I watch as police go back and forth down the street, flashing bulbs painting my shop in shades of blue and red.

It's halfway through the evening when I can't take it anymore. I watch as a young couple peruse the racks of charms I offer towards the front. They're the type not to buy anything, simply coming into a witch's shop for the fun, and I don't mind patrons like that as long as they don't try to steal anything. The boy has wispy black hair pushed away from his face, he's tall and lean, and out of the corner of my eye I thought, just for a moment, that Elliot had come into my shop like he always does on his days off.

And I'm hit with a pang of melancholy so powerful, so concentrated, that I'm bent over myself before I can think. Every feeling I'd been hoping to store away comes rushing out full force--the anger, the fear, the sorrow, oh the sorrow. No more dances, no more tea, no more easy conversation over pastries. It feels incredibly selfish to think of it this way, what I'm lacking instead of what his family, his other friends may be without, but I can't help it. All I can think about it what I'll miss, the void in my life, what can't be replaced.

I crouch on the floor, as if being closer to the tile will make my descent into grief that much easier.

Mr. Guss toddles up to me, sympathy etched in the lines on his face. He pats my back as I dissolve into sobs and the few people in the shop awkwardly shuffle out.

"I'm sorry," he says, his hand big and heavy over my back. "He was a good kid."

I don't respond, but I don't think he expects me to, and for that I'm grateful.

The chime over the door goes off and I hear Lady Duranta exclaim, "Oh dear!" before she also toddles over with her clicking heels and cane.

Lady Dee is a regular, and has been since I first opened. She's always been there when I'm in a crisis, whether that be telling off a grouchy customer or helping me put out a fire, she always manages to turn up at the worst of times. Once I'd asked whether she had any magic lineage and she'd just laughed and continued helping me pick up a shattered kettle from the shelf. It makes sense she'd be here when I'm having a moment of hysteria.

"I'll take it from here, Guss," she says, her voice like butter.

Guss, who seems quite uncomfortable, shuffles around us to my other side.

"Are you going to be okay, Ms. Breban?"

It takes me a minute to gulp down the air necessary to respond. "Fine, I'll be fine."

Mr. Guss awkwardly pats my shoulder, and I hear the chime of the bell go off and the slide of the lock in place.

Lady Dee is at my side again, fretting over me as she guides me to the ground. We sit there, on the dirty floor, as I sob my brains out and she rubs my arms with her wizened hands. She can be harsh, pushy, but she also has a soft side. She never chides me for getting upset, not that she's seen much of it. But this side that cares for me, wipes my tears away. I didn't know my grandmother, both of them passed before I was born, but I imagine Lady Dee would be a good fit.

I manage to stop hyperventilating long enough to watch another round of police officers glance in my window and roll their eyes.

Lady Dee sighs above me. "I'm going to miss him too, dear," she says into the quiet of the store.

***

Because I was raised to be a good host, I lead her to the small storage room in the back, where I've hooked up a small portable stovetop with a kettle. Calling the moisture in the air to create water feels like a heavy blanket on my shoulders, but calling it in such a way gives the tea a clean, crisp taste that tap water just doesn't compare to.

Lady Dee won't let me do any more though, ushering me to sit at the small card table I've set up, sitting me in one of the rickety folding chairs that I've needed to repair for going on two years now. It squeaks unpleasantly as I sit, and the silence is broken by Lady Dee making tea and my occasional sniffing.

Crying always leaves me feeling hollowed out. It allows me the space to think, but also feel guilty for focusing on myself. I'm competent enough to store away such unsavory emotions for a later date, but the past few days I've been too exhausted to do anything past make myself dinner and go to bed. Perhaps this was a long time coming, then. I should know better.

Still, the space is quiet, and I feel my mind working over the case.

Elliot knew who his killer was, and he was afraid. The information gleaned from his soul imprint didn't tell me a lot, but there must have been something I missed, that the detectives missed. They can't just let this go, there's got to be more. The killer they have in custody called them to admit to the murder, then just sat in his study, waiting. That's too easy. There's got to be something.

I'm starting in on a headache when Lady Dee sets a steaming cup of tea in front of me.

"You're shaking like a leaf, dear," she says as she sits, reaching over to grab my hands in hers.

"It's…" I huff a humorless laugh. "It's been a week."

"I'm surprised you opened up at all. Once I heard, I thought you'd be closed until Monday at least."

I shrug, hopeless. "I thought…distraction."

She raises a thin eyebrow. "Maybe some time off would help more?"

"You're probably right." I bring the cup to my lips and take a deep inhale. She'd picked a morning blend: jasmine, marigold, orange, and lemongrass. It's bright, refreshing me as I sip. Lady Dee is right, I probably need to take a break, but I can't just close my shop for three days. I have orders due, ingredients I need to use. There's a shipment of flowers coming in that I need to hang and dry, and a cannister of cleansing water for my tools that's about to expire.

Lady Dee looks at me over her own cup. "I know you're not going to rest. I can see your mind working from here. What is it?"

I rest my head heavily on one hand. "Elliot was good. Who would want him dead?"

She brings her cup to her lips and takes a long sip before saying, "People always have something to hide."

My attention drifts to the button in my pocket. Lady Dee has been around, traveled the world. Maybe she'll recognize this symbol. I fish the thing out of my pocket, and set it on the table.

"I found this where he-- at the scene. Have you seen it?"

Her eyes light up as she sets down the tea cup. "What's this?"

"I'm not sure. This symbol," I tap the button with my finger. "I've never seen it before."

My hand is still wrapped up from the burn, but I keep my palm down all the same. I don't want to worry her, especially if this rune is something bad.

She squints at it, adjusts her glasses and leans in, and then she shakes her head. "Could it be necromantic?"

My face screws in confusion. "I don't think so. Mom was super strict on what to avoid when she was teaching me, and that doesn't look at all familiar."

And as far as I know, Elliot wasn't into anything illegal. But then again, everyone has something to hide, I suppose.

"You know who might know," she says, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. "That dashing fellow next door."

I flush. "Mr. Engstrom?" He is well put together, dashing as Lady Dee says, but he's also very intimidating. We've shared only a handful of words in the scant few years I've run my shop next to his.

Lady Dee smiles like she's in on a secret. "He's the one. Been around longer than I have. Maybe he could help."

I tither with my gloves. "I wouldn't want to bother him this late."

It's late afternoon, most shops are preparing to close for the night. Surely we'd just be bothering him at this hour.

"Nonsense! I just walked by, he's as dead as a drowned rat, could probably use the company!" As she speaks, Lady Dee pulls me from behind the counter and then gently but firmly steers me out the door.

Whenever I walk by his shop, he's bent over his desk with long, dangerous tools in his gloved hands. The skull that makes up his head doesn't allow for expressions, barely even moves as he talks, so I never know what he's thinking.

His shopfront is the opposite of mine. I try to maintain an open atmosphere with bright colors and smiles, I even installed a purple awning for shade last year. But Mr. Engstrom's front is all black marble and darkened windows.

Mr. Engstrom's shop has a towering spiral of dark brick and mortar up top that immediately caught my eye when I first moved to the city. I'd wanted to be close to it, like a moth to flame, or maybe use it as a landmark to bring customers back. I never see many people coming or going from it, but I do see several regulars once every month. It must be enough to afford the ridiculously high rent, because he's never seemed too stressed about it.

Not that we've had many conversations. Mr. Engstrom isn't cold per say, just rather quiet. Our longest interaction was asking him to repair the locking mechanism in my door, and it proved the most awkward interaction I'd ever been in. I'd invited him for tea afterwards and he refused, like he couldn't return home fast enough. He did an amazing job though, the lock has never faltered since.

The door to his shop is open despite the hour, and Lady Dee brings me inside. "West! I have a visitor for you!"

The shop is empty and dark, and I realize I've never actually set foot in here, only viewed it through the large window pointing towards the street.

I'm greeted by high ceilings and an open balcony to the second floor. The walls are filled with clocks, grandfathers along the floor and chimes on the wall and even more hung all the way up to the open second floor. They start huge at the bottom and get smaller towards the top, like a waterfall of metal and glass. The room is silent, save for the ticking of a single clock, and distant footsteps.

"Miss Duranta, it is very late and--" The door at the back left opens, and Mr. Engstrom appears, holding a lantern aloft in one hand. The round, quarter-sized lights inside his eye sockets flick to Lady Dee, then to me, and back to Lady Dee. The silence is broken by that steady ticking, and I swallow around the lump in my throat.

I've only ever seen Mr. Engstrom through the front window of the shop, or bent over when hes working. He's tall, his form is lithe, his clothes hold volume as if there's a body underneath. In the low light of his lantern I see a faint flicker all around his head--heat waves, like the air above a fire. Is that the magic keeping him upright? I don't know much about reanimation or necromantic magic, only that most of it has been banned, but this makes me want to research it. I want to know how he works.

He must have been preparing to retire for the night. His waistcoat is gone, and the shirt underneath has been rolled up to the elbows, the first few buttons undone casually. His clothes sit above his frame, as if there were flesh and blood underneath. It gives the appearance that his sleeves are floating, and I can't look away.

Lady Dee speaks up. "This lovely young lady is your neighbor."

Mr. Engstrom turns his attention to me, and I straighten my back. "I'm well aware," he says.

Lady Dee scoffs. "And she needs your help!"

The lights in his eyes move in a circle, like he's rolling them. "Could this not wait until morning?"

"Emergencies don't wait!" she fires back.

They bicker a bit more, and it's strange. I expected an echo to his voice, but there's none. I've spoken to living armor at the museum, their voices reverberating with a tinny flatness that accentuates their polite upbringing, but his doesn't. It's just deep, rich. However subtle, there's emotion there, inflection. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine I'm talking to a man.

But I wouldn't want to close my eyes, because he is fascinating up close. The two of them seem to come to some conclusion while I was lost in thought, because Lady Dee pats me on the back and says, "Go on, dear," as Mr. Engstrom steps back to his countertop at the back of the store.

He sets the lantern on the countertop with a heavy thud, leaning on one arm, the other planted on his hip. "Well, Ms. Breban?"

Lady Dee scoffs. "Don't be rude, West."

I know Lady Dee means well, but she's been trying to set me up with potential suitors since I moved here. Told me that I had no business being on my own for my whole life. So she had made it her life's mission to find me a partner. Maybe she'd picked up on my small, miniscule fascination for Mr. Engstrom, but her encouragement and obliviousness to his regard for me aren't helping me calm down.

I walk up to the counter, fumbling around in my pocket for the button. Setting it on the counter, I crush the urge to step back and instead let my arms fall to my sides.

Mr. Engstrom tips the lantern forward, illuminating the button a fiery red and orange. His other hand comes up to rub his chin, and he hums thoughtfully.

Lady Dee mentioned that Mr. Engstrom is old, but she never said how old. Lady Dee appears to be in her seventies at least, but I've never asked Mr. Engstrom his age. It seemed rude, especially over smalltalk while he was doing me a favor.

"Well?" Lady Dee says to my right, nearly scaring the daylights out of me. "Anything good?"

Another long moment passes, my face tilted towards the mysterious button, until Mr. Engstrom tilts his head towards me. I mirror the movement, our faces very close, and he starts, standing up straight.

"Where did you find this?"

I twist my fingers in my hands. Will he go to the police if I say--

Lady Dee comes to my rescue. "She nabbed it off the street, what's it matter?"

He looks between us, unconvinced as he folds his arms over his chest. "That hardly constitutes an emergency."

Lady Dee groans. "Do you know what it is or not?"

He hums, one hand coming to his chin again, before aiming his gaze back to me. "Might I borrow this for the evening?" he asks, straightening his shirt.

I pause, unsure. "Oh, uh, of course. Is everything…?"

"Quite alright, Ms. Breban."

"Call her Lucy," Lady Dee slaps me on the back a little too hard, making me huff out my breath.

Mr. Engstrom turns his attention to me. The lights, shutter for a quick moment before reigniting, like he just blinked. And he's awaiting my approval, so I nod once, embarrassment warning my cheeks and forcing me to look down at the floor. I doubt a handful of sentences constitutes knowing me familiarly enough, but if I press the issue we'll be here all night. I'd hate to keep him up, I've already put him out enough as it is.

"Very well," he says, picking up the button and pocketing it. "Once you're closed up tomorrow evening, come by."

***

The customers are full of gossip, nowhere to go but the closest shop after the police department cleaned up Elliot's shop. It was awful--cars everywhere, dozens of officers coming and going. A few stopped into my shop and looked around, and I'd been terrified that they'd start questioning why they found my fingerprints at the scene. But the worst of it came from the customers, gossipping amongst themselves.

"Who lived there?"

"What happened?"

"I heard it was a murder."

"Not a murder you dolt! A suicide!"

"Suicide?! How could anyone do such a thing? It's beyond me."

Sometimes they ask my opinion, but then quickly talk over me in favor of conspiratorial whispers and judgemental stares. It's not answers they want, it's gossip. So I let it flow over me, centering myself in my work and the best way to serve my customers. There's orders piling up, so I begin to work through those as the day ebbs around me.

The space is loud, full, and normally I like it, it's easy to fall into and block out the rest of the world. But not when I'm trying to think.

What could that symbol have been? Did Mr. Engstrom recognize it? He hasn't contacted me today, but I'm still planning on visiting his shop tonight.

The end of the day can't come soon enough, as I lock up the front door and rush over to Mr. Engstrom's shop. I'm surprised to feel that the door is unlocked, expecting to have to wait outside for more direction. There's usually magic surrounding this door, like my own. Magic to keep out thieves. But right now there's none.

It's dark inside. I thought the windows had been tinted but no, he's dimmed the lights. I hadn't gotten a good look at the shop last night, it was hard to see in the darkness. But now I see everything is in black marble, with clocks along the walls and a large pendulum mounted stationary on the wall.

Mr. Engstrom is bent over his bench, like usual. He's looking at something small that I can't see from the other side of the room, he hadn't even acknowledged my presence. The only sound is my breathing and the ticking of a clock that I can't see, and then my boots as I pad up to him. I clear my throat, and he doesn't budge.

"Um, Mr. Engstrom--"

"Please, call me Weston."

"...Weston." I like saying that. I like that we can be friends instead of just neighbors.

Walking up to the countertop, into view comes a small piece, barely the size of a coin. There's even smaller pieces laying against the black table top that're barely bigger than my fingernail, and he's working with tools that are the width of a needle. Weston doesn't seem to have any magnifying glasses on--then again, why would he need them?--and the light is so low I have to squint until my eyes adjust. "What're you working on, if I may ask?"

He stares at me for a long moment, the candles behind his eyes flickering like he's considering something. Then he puts his head down back to his work. "If you must know, it's a time-piece from the early 16th century. Priceless family heirloom and they couldn't be bothered to keep it clean."

His tone is clipped, he doesn't bother looking up at me again. I shuffle my feet, the sound grating against the peace and quiet. "I can come back later if--"

His head snaps up. "No, no, it's--" he sits up, running a gloved hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Ms. Breban, it's been a very frustrating day."

"Lucy."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Lucy."

His head lifts and he focuses his gaze on me. "Lucy," he says slowly, and a shiver runs up my spine. "That silver piece you gave me was quite the find."

Silver piece. "It's…not a button?"

He shakes his head, "It's an ancient piece of currency. Come with me," and stands lifts the divider in the table. But instead of moving towards the stairs at the front of the shop, he leads me further back, into the wares. There's an adequate amount of light back here, and it's needed. Stacks and stacks of boxes line the walls, some two or three deep, marking a jagged path that we take to the back of the shop. Some are open and filled with carefully organized papers, others still filled with smaller boxes and labels with script so small I can't read it. There's a lot here, but it's organized. Like my shop, it seems.

We go further back than I thought the building stretched, when Weston stops. There's a ladder, leading directly upwards

"I wasn't sure at first," he says as he starts climbing. "But I've seen this symbol before."

The attic, like the back of the shop, is crowded with boxes and various objects. But unlike the back of the shop, there's no organization here. As if everything had been thrown here and forgotten, I wouldn't know where to even begin. There's trinkets, and clocks, and I see the glint of armor in the back corner. There's fabric so faded with time that I can't begin to parse out what it even is, and some items that seem almost brand new in comparison.

And over everything, old and new, is a layer of dust that makes my nose itch.

There's a small path in the floor that winds to the back, and I see a book shelf along the back wall. It's where he leads me to, pulling a book down from a high shelf. Thick and faded, it's a tome at least two inches thick, but through the dust I can see the chaotic symbol on the cover.

"I knew I'd seen it somewhere before," Weston says, opening to a depression between the pages, revealing my silver piece in the margins. "Spent all night looking for it."

"You didn't lose sleep over me, I hope," I say, leaning over his shoulder to look. This is exciting, I feel like a detective. Not the ones I dealt with last week, but ones who solve mysteries. It's also easier being around him without watchful, expectant eyes on us. My heart thumps in my chest as I rest a hand on his arm.

Weston starts at the contact, and I instantly feel bad for leaning into his personal space. "This symbol is old. Very old."

"Older than you?"

He huffs a breath of amusement, the first I've heard. "Not quite."

He flips through pages so thin I can see the print on the opposite side, looking for something specific. The print is too small for me to skim, and the blocks of text with carefully detailed scientific diagrams make me think it's a reference text of some sort.

Weston continues flipping, until he gets to a page with the same symbol as the silver piece, surrounded by others I recognize from the crime scene. There's a small block of text on the opposite page that I can't read in the dark.

"At the time, they were called Messengers of the Enlightened." He reads from the small block of text, "A small underground following of the Enlightened One, they attempt to bring her into this plane and usher in a new era."

I frown. "Sounds like a cult."

"How so?"

"Elliot's…body," I shudder at the memory. "He was covered in these." I point to the symbols on the following page. They're not quite runes, but also not quite sigils. Something in between, as if someone had been experimenting. Even in this non-magical book they feel…corrupted. I lean into Weston, trying to get a better look as I flip to the next page.

"Where did you say this book was from?"

"I took it from a library in the 3rd Century." Well there go my worries about Weston calling the police.

"So this information could be outdated?"

"Oh it certainly is," he clicks the book shut. "You said your friend owned a shop? He was social and had friends?"

I nod.

"Then this is likely much bigger than a handful of members now. Indoctrinating the general public instead of remaining underground as they were likely means they've grown significantly." He pauses for a moment, then looks to me. "Was there anything else at the scene that looked like this sigil?"

I chew on my lower lip, hopeless. "I didn't really get a good look. I only saw the button--silver piece, because it caught the light. But…" I trail off, thinking. "The police hadn't done much to the scene. When I got there, they were driving off with the murderer, and only wanted me to confirm it was them."

The police there didn't seem particularly interested in investigating, either. Mostly they stood around answering press questions. They definitely could have missed something.

I whirl on Weston, "We have to go back."

He blinks at me several times, the lights in his eyes shuttering. "Back? Back where?"

"The crime scene!"

"I don't think that's--"

"Listen! The police must have missed something, looked over a detail that we can find!"

Weston snaps the book against his palm. "That is out of the question."

I throw my hand in the air. "Then I'll go by myself!"

Weston points a finger at me. "I was willing to overlook you tampering with evidence. But this is too dangerous."

"But if there's something there that could help--"

He throws his hands out, and his eyes, for the briefest moment, flash red. "No!"

I flinch at his shout, so sudden and abrasive it's like opening a window. To think he could get so angry over me, basically a stranger.

Weston pauses, looking at me up and down, and then rights himself, turning his head away and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I apologize, I shouldn't have shouted."

I look down at the coin in my hands, a frown puckering my brow. It would be stupid to leave this alone, but the police aren't going to do anything about it. I flip the coin in my hands and sigh. "I suppose I should take this information to the police…"

Weston places the book back on the shelf, and crosses his arms. "And why is that an issue?"

Mirroring him, I fold my arms, grabbing each side with my hands. "They said it was too much work, it was above their paygrade. They'd seen another like this before but--"

"They discussed the case with you?"

I flush. "Not exactly…I kind of…listened in. But they didn't care! Not about Elliot, or his death, or even his sweet dog and--"

Tears build in my eyes again, and I furiously wipe them away. I'm not sad, I'm angry! This isn't fair to Elliot, to be tossed into another cold case file! Something needs to be done! Angrily, I stomp on an open patch of the floor, and dust springs up like a water spout, flying into the air, and then straight into my face. I'm thrown into a coughing fit that has me keeled over, and Weston's hand is on my back, guiding me to an equally dusty lounge chair. Sitting on it kicks up more dust, so I hold my breath until it settles. He sits next to me, hands falling to his lap as I try to recall how to breathe correctly.

"What kind of dog?" he asks.

I huff, very mature, and stare at a spot on the ground. "What do you care?"

He rests his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together. He says quietly, "I love dogs. Used to breed them for a line of monarchs in the Alps."

His tone is so sincere, like he's never told anyone that before, a secret just between the two of us. I crumble a little. "Paul. A golden retriever, barely a year old. And they just threw him in the pound."

I swipe at my tears again, and Weston offers me a handkerchief. It's a small square of silk, and I wonder why he has it if he can't cry.

"That's a shame. Young dog like that, someone is bound to pick him up eventually, though."

I only shrug my shoulders and sniff away more tears. They wouldn't take as good care of him as Elliot. I would've taken him in if I'd had the space, or the time. But I have neither, so poor Paul is left up to chance.

We sit as my tears dry, and I hand him back the silk handkerchief, that he tucks away in his waistcoat. Weston looks down at his hands, and clears his throat. "Well, if you're not going to the police, then I'm coming with you."

Chapter 3 >>

#my writing #witch's gambit #monster writing #terato writing #fantasy #urban fantasy #we finally meet weston in this chapter #and he grumpy #also i'm trying a new thing by putting the summary at the start #for anyone who may be following the tag and comes across it #i know i've done that where i go 'okay...so what is this about'

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blackhakumen · 1 year

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Mini Fanfic #1084: Training Day (Kingdom Hearts)

1:20 p.m. Outside of the Land of Departure: Training Field........

NAMINE......ANGELIC.....SMASH!

'SMASH'

With one, fairly powerful punch from Namine of all people, a stand-in punching bag is seen getting forcefully pushed all the way to the other side of the field l before falling down to the ground as smoke is coming out of the imprinted fist mark she left begin, much to boys' surprise (and mostly dread in Ventus' case).

Chihirty: Amazing..... (Turns to Namine) The force of your punches are getting more stronger by the minute.

Namine: (Has Her Hands on her Knees Before Swiping the Sweat Off With her Arm) ('Whew') And it shows....(Holds her Fist Up as She Place her Hand on Top of her Arm Muscle With a Proud Smile on her Face) Which means my training with Ms. Lockhart is starting to pay off at last!~

Chirithy: You wanna give it another go? I'm liking the name of the punch you gave so far.

Namine: (Smiles Brightly) Thank you so much, ChiChi. And yeah, let's go!~

Ventus: (Eyes Widened as He Watches Namine and Chihirty in the Distance While Sitting Next to Vantias Under a Shade) This is insane......

Vantias: Insane how Namine's strong enough send anything flying or the name of her attack sounds almost as Intimidating as "Final Heaven"?

Ventus: (Turns to Vantias With a Panicked Look on his Face) Yes, on both fronts! Like, I know that she determined to be as strong as her teacher and I'm really proud of her for coming this far with her combat training, but I didn't think she would get THIS powerful! And I STILL don't know how that Final Heaven move of hers works to begin with! Like, does it really take a lot energy and willpower to pull the move off or does she uses both of her fists as ticking time bombs whenever she's in battle?

Vantias: Hey, your guess is as mines. All I know that I am passing up any offer sparring against Little Miss Angel Girl over there.

Ventus: Why? (Gives Vantias a Sly Smirk on his Face) You scared she's gonna sucker punch you again like last time?

Flashback

Years ago after the war between light and darkness has reached it conclusion, Vantias, who somehow revived as well at the time, tries to infiltrate the Land of Departure before getting caught red handed by Sora and the gang (minus Riku, Isa, Aqua, and Terra) shortly after.

He was able to take them all on effortlessly, thanks to his sneaky use of the little power darkness he has at the time and a few capoeira tricks he learned from a street performer he saw the night before.

It wasn't long until he stumbled upon Namine who panicked and screamed out the word "STOP IT YOU JERRRRRRRRK!" as she sucker punched Vantias straight into the jaw hard enough to send him flying from across the room, leaving him unconscious until the crew ties him up and interrogate him.

It was at this moment that Vantias decided to never cross Namine again....as well as finding ways to avoid sparring with her at all cost.

End of Flashback

Vantias: ('Scoffs') As if. I just don't think it'll be a fair match up is all.

Ventus: For you or her? Cuz something tells me that it might definitely be the former.

Vantias: Yeah, well, whatever told you that clearly doesn't know jack shit about how fair match-up works. (Starts Smirking Back at Ventus) Unless you wanna step in the sparring ring yourself.

Ventus: (Glares at Vantias) And get sent flying off to the distance? No way!

Vantias: Oh don't be such a wuss. You could dodge her punches easily if you actually put that feet of yours to good use.

Ventus: I can say the same for you too, emo boy. Or did your break dancing routine is starting to lose steam.

Vantias: Okay, first off, I do capoeira, there's a different I think. And second, just because I'm making a cautious move in not fighting her, that doesn't automatically make me weak. Especially when I can kick your ass just fine.

Ventus: (Immediately Gets Up From Where He Was Sitting) Get real! Have you forgotten our fight at the Keyblade Graveyard!?

Vantias: (Rolls his Eyes) Oh yeah. How could I ever forget the time you pulled a cheap shot at the Near end of the battle?

Ventus: Cheap sho- I beaten you fair and square! If anything, YOU'RE the one who keep relying on your dark power to give you the edge on almost every fight you got yourself into!

Vantias: And that's a problem because.......

Ventus: What do you think!? That, in of itself, is cheating!

Vantias: Subjectively speaking.

Ventus: THAT'S NOT EVEN- (Takes a Deep Breath Before Speaking) You know what? Forget it. You can use darkness, capoeira or whatever you call it, all you want. (Crosses his Arms and Turns Away) Just know that I've beaten you once and I'll be more than happy to do it again!

Vantias: (Slowly Starts Getting Up in Front of Ventus) Is that a challenge request I'm hearing right now?

Ventus: Maybe. And I won't opposed if you accept either. (Turns Back to Vantias) Just don't be too surprised if you end up put to sleep on the ground, cheater.

Vantias: (Puts on a Competitive yet Malicious Grin on his Face as He Summons his Keyblade) I like to see you try and land a hit on me, airbag....

Ventus: (Summons his Keyblade as Well) Glady......

Meanwhile.......

Chirithy: (Helps Namine Takes the Punching Bag Back to It's Original Spot) So how exactly did you came up with the name for that move of yours in the first place?

Namine: Oh it's simple really. One night, when I was in the middle of drawing a fee sketches, I-

Two vicious battle cries simultaneously rings into Namine and Chihirty's eardrums as the two set their attention on Ventus and Vantias fighting one another using their Keyblades in the far distance.

Chirithy: Well, would you look at that? And here I thought those two lazy bones were never gonna train today.

Namine: They look so determined to out best one another. (Places her Hands on Both of her Cheeks While Letting Out a Gasps) Has my hard work managed to inspired them to train themselves?~

Chirithy: Preeeeeetty sure they were arguing again as usual..... (Starts Pouting) I bet it was Van-Van who started it!

Namine: ('Sigh') I'll have a talk with those two later.....(Turns to Chihirty Woth a Determined Smile on her Face) In the meantime, let's resume back to training ourselves. There's so many new techniques I can't wait to try out!~

Chirithy: (Sighs While Shrugging) If you say so.....

@keyenuta

@26shann

@khtext

@cyber-wildcat

@bestpony666

@ma-lemons

#kingdom hearts #namine #ventus #vantias #chirithy #tifa (mentioned)#tifa is namine's mentor #humor #training

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heart-forge · 4 years

Note

Neopronouns would be great. Ze/hir/hir for sure. I know this one is controversial, but maybe consider... it. It/it/its. If you're unsure about usability of NB words, there's an annual nb survey (gendercensusdotcom) you can check the results of. As for binary pronoun NPCs, maybe refer to them as nb in narration. "There's that enby I know, he's great." Rip off the bandaid. No celebration, but clearly stated. Also there are honorifics like Ind. (individual) or Mx. "There's Ind. Smith, she's great."

I’ve known people who use it, I’ve never seen it as particularly controversial. I get where each side is coming from, I’m mostly inclined to just do what people tell me you know? And generally I go for “person”, I don’t like the word enby. I don’t know why? I think it’s one of those. It doesn’t look like a word that refers to anything to me. I don’t mind when people use it for themselves but like I’ve always been pretty :/ about it, as evidenced by the time I’ve taken to type out NB people all day lol. Honorifics is an interesting way to go for sure though, I’ll keep that one in mind.

#talkForge #I hate honorifics irl but it's because people still have the unmitigated gall to refer to me as 'miss'#not on ur fuckin LIFE buddy #I switched banks a little ways back and I remember I was working with a woman about my age #and she was like 'k I'll mark you down as ms' im like omg thank....you........#she was like it's so fuckin annoying when people try to hit you with miss #genuinely hate it #ms I'm fine with miss does NOT fly #Anonymous

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btssk · 3 years

Text

Ms. Dokkaebi - Part One

Series Summary: You are the nanny for J-Hope’s older sister Jung Ji Wo. And while you’re great with her kids, best friends with J-Hope, and considered apart of his family, you seem very rude and stand-offish when it comes to the rest of BTS. There’s a tense relationship between you and the other members but when shit hits the fan, they'll realize just how wrong they were about you. But will it be in time.?

Notes: I’m new ARMY who doesn’t know everything there is to know about BTS as individuals so I may not accurately depict them in my writings, but as a FanFic writer who’s found her new muse, i’m just jumping right into it! This was originally going to be a one shot but then I started having too many ideas and points to touch on so I’m turning it into a series. And heads up, i write longgg posts regardless. I’ll probably comb through this a few times after I post to tweak some things. Also, this is obviously written in english but imagine that they're speaking Korean. This is my first BTS fanfic,

Hope you enjoy!

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Pairing: (Platonic) J-Hope x Reader

Summary: You've come to visit your very own personal ray of sunshine Jung Hoseok while on vacation. Despite his unbridled joy at your arrival, the other members of BTS struggle to understand how such terrifying opposites could be attracted to each other.

Warning: swearing, violence

"Here, place these on the table, Canola flowers are her favorite." Hoseok wipes the remnants of soil off his hands and smiles proudly at his personal efforts. "Their train should be arriving shortly, if you still plan to meet them at the station sir." "Right, i'll leave first then. Thank you ladies." The maids bow as he gives his final nod of approval before rushing to the waiting car. "Step on it Dae-Hyun, we can't be late." "Of course sir." "Dae-Hyun," "Yes sir?" "How do I look?" The driver smiled at the multimillionaire international superstar, sweating and squirming in the backseat. "She's going to be thrilled to see you sir."

…

"Does that mean I don't look good?"

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"We're here! Everyone come welcome our special guests!" Two little kids fly into the house faster than Hoseok could finish announcing their arrival. Next came their frantic mother scrambling to collect them and scold the poor manners they were presenting.

Jin gets up from sitting in the living room with both arms open wide, inviting the kids to jump into them. "It's okay Ji Wo, i've missed my little feathers." "We're not little feathers!" "Of course you are! See, I can do this!" He starts spinning around as fast as he can. Hoseok stands besides his sister smiling at his niece and nephew flying in circles. "Too fast!" "No more Ahjussi!" Jin stops spinning, "Ah-Ahjussi? Ahjussi?! Who are you calling Ahjussi? You think i'm so old that I deserve to hear such things?! Ya! You think you'll be young forever?" Jin begins tickling and shaking the two until they're begging him to stop. "You'll be my age soon and let’s see how you like being called Ahjussi! I'm not even that old!"

Jin's signature 'eldest-rant' calls the rest of the members into the living room. "I don't know Jin, i'm starting to see some grey hairs." Jungkook joins in on Yoongi's joke, "Oh, there on the sides right?" "Mm, yeah." "Stob it!"

By the time you entered the room, everyone had already shared their hello's with Ji Wo. Her kids were outside running around with Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin. Jin was still fuming over being called Ahjussi despite Namjoon's best efforts to calm him down, while Yoongi stood by doing his best to turn Jin into a talking tomato.

Busy helping his sister move the luggage to the guest house, Hoseok left your welcome party in the hands of dumb and dumber, plus one. The three kept at their bickering until Namjoon finally noticed you. You dropped two large duffel bags at your feet and wore all black, head to toe. No makeup, hair in a half-assed updo, and shoes still on after entering the home? You weren’t here to impress and currently, were not impressed either.

Namjoon straightened up his appearance before nudging Jin and Yoongi to follow suit. Yoongi hid his smile and offered a very sweet and shy apology. And while Jin was obviously embarrassed to have been caught acting so childish in front of a stranger, this fact presented a dilemma. Why was there a strange woman in his living room? An American woman, with a very unpleasant look of irritation and disapproval on her face? 'Does she not see how handsome I am?' Remembering that he was in his own home and the eldest person present, he chose an informal tone. "Ya. Who are you. How’d you get in here?" No response. The only change being your eyes now solely locked onto Jin. A slight relief to Namjoon and Yoongi. "Did you hear me? Who are you, what do you want?"

"...."

"What you don't speak Korean?"

Silence.

"Aishh," Jin put his hands on his hips, "So, You American came to Korea just to step into a Korean household and not only refuse to address your senior, to state your business, or atone for these things, but can't even speak Korean to begin with? Unbelievable." After another chance to explain yourself, yet remaining silent, Jin rolls his eyes and grabs his phone. "Fine. I'm calling security." Now you looked pleased, almost amused. Did you understand what he had said? Clearly not since you were smiling, but, did you? The three members wait with you in the deafening silence.

A couple minutes and guards storm into the room scanning for the intruder. Jin immediately starts yelling and pointing for them to take you away. Yet you don't move an inch as the guards surround you. Instead, you smile sweetly in return for their low bows. The member's are stunned as the head of security addresses you and you only. "Our apologizes for this mishap Ms. Y/n, it won't happen again." You nod, accepting his notion, and Jin couldn’t take it anymore, "What! what is this?! Who is she that she can enter my home uninvited with more authority than me?!" The guard's explanation is interrupted by Hoseok's return. "Oh good, you've met y/n!" He smiles at his friends indifferent towards the scene he interrupted. "Y/n hand me your bag i'll carry it," he gives you his other arm to escort you outside, "Ji Wo and the kids are already unpacked. I'll help you with your stuff. I made sure your room had those pillows and comforter set you really liked from last time-oh! And I have a surprise for you! I went and picked them myself, your favorite! Then we can talk about what you want for dinner tonight..." The three ‘men’, who were correctly feeling as less than such, watched you step into the guest house as if you owned that too.

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"Explain."

"Oh good, I needed a second opinion! I like the yellow shirt but it's a bit much for dinner at home right? Then there's the blue but it doesn't compliment my eyes very well. Maybe the white one then? You can't go wrong-"

Jin slaps the shirts out of Hoseok's hands.

"No! Explain the woman who just walked into my home with zero etiquette, highjacked my home, security team, and is now downstairs with her bare feet on my coffee table!"

"So you're thinking the blue one."

"Hobi!"

"Jin can you keep it down, i'm trying to take my pre-dinner evening nap," Yoongi throws himself on the bed, "But to his point; Who is she?"

Hoseok picks up the blue shirt and pulls it on. "Uh, well that's a loaded question. I know that she can be very, well, i'm sure you've noticed,"

"Yes, continue."

"But, I guess, she's my best friend." Every remaining member bursts through the door, silently threatening him to say it again. Even Yoongi twisted his head, "The hell did this bitch say." Jin takes the lead scolding Hoseok's blasphemous comment, with the others suddenly becoming faithful followers of their beloved Ahjussi. Once finished fiddling with his shirt, Hoseok addressed the room full of crybabies. "Maybe 'best friend' wasn't the most appropriate label, but she IS someone very special to me. So please, all of you go get dressed and be ready to eat dinner in an hour. I need this to be perfect. It's important, please." He hurries out of the room to find you, leaving his very much so established and unquestionably best friends unsatisfied with his explanation.

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"Tell me to hurry up...look nice...feet on my table!...she's the mean one...I don't even like spicy food...Will you come help me already you see me struggling!" Namjoon was certain his hands were going to fuse with his face if he listened to this for another second. He gladly stood up to help Jin with his tie, "If it'll end your ranting about y/n-"

"Stupid name"

"You met her once for five minutes; you don't even know her." "Ah, five minutes was ten minutes too long." "That still doesn't make any sense," Namjoon grumbles for the billionth time since meeting his friend, "There, done."

"And why are we wearing ties anyways? We're at home! Ji Wo's family! I'm expected to look Grammy's ready for that…that Dokkaebi!?" Yoongi sits up from Jin's bed laughing, "That what?" "When did you get there?" "Did you just call y/n a Dokkaebi? I haven't heard name calling like that since primary school." Jin charges at Yoongi shaking his finger, "You know it! You were there, both of you! You saw her smiling at us; like a blind person winking. Just, empty." A chill runs up Jin's spine that Namjoon and Yoongi have to admit they also felt. "Hear me, that goblin will only cause us problems." "You're overreacting-"

"Her.bare.feet! On.my.coffee table!"

"Look she's special to Hobi, that means she can't actually be that bad right? And again, we only met her for five minutes-" "That was ten minutes-" "DO NOT say it again it makes NO sense! We didn't make a very good first impression either, so let's consider dinner a fresh start." Namjoon and Yoongi guide a still disgruntled Jin down to dinner. They can hear the kitchen is already crowded with conversation, children laughing, and food on the stove. Namjoon takes a deep breath, "Fresh start boys. Be nice." They round the corner to see your eyes already baring deep into their souls. Jin leans into his friend’s tiger grips on him and whispers, "See, see! Some of her goblin tricks already. Evil little mi-chin nyeon-" "You sure you want to finish that sentence." Your comment draws Hoseok’s attention to his friends, "Hey guys! Come have a beer, we're almost done cooking." The trembling mice men find a safe distance from you on the other side of the island and Hoseok hands them each a drink. But Jin’s eyes never leave yours, except to make sure that the knife in your hand is still chopping vegetables and not plunging into his chest. "So, you can speak Korean." "Of course, what kind of American would I be to come all the way to Korea, enter a Korean household, and not be able to address my senior. The honor is mine, Ahjussi." You throw in a lopsided bow at the end but Jin is far from impressed. Namjoon grabs another beer, "Here we go..." Before he has the chance, Jin's attention is on his legs. "Do the funny walk!" "Yeah, the funny walk!" "Oh, I think i'm too old, now that i'm 'Ahjussi Jin'." The twins plead with him until they're disappearing down the hallway, holding on for dear life as he flails his legs as much as possible. You finish cutting the vegetables and hand them to Ji Wo at the stove. Before you have a chance, Hoseok takes the dishes from your hands, "I can clean these too y/n, you go grab a drink and hang out while Ji Wo and I finish up. Your seat is right there next to mine!" If he could walk for you he would, even if he didn't have legs himself. Annoying and embarrassing at times, like now, but at the end of the day you loved that about him; so unashamedly sweet to you like no one else would dare to be.

You go slip into your Hoseok-assigned seat at the table next to Yoongi and count how long it’ll take him to grow a pair and say what's on his mind.

"So y/n,"

27 seconds,

"how do you know Hobi?" "I work for Ji Wo." "Oh, like a secretary?" 'The fuck?,' "Or not. Then, some security guard? No! Not that i'm saying you’re manly or anything, you're very attractive-not that i'm attracted to you-NOT that there's a reason I shouldn't be!" Yoongi chokes on his words long enough for you to respond. "I'm her nanny." You see the first unpetrified emotion cross Yoongi's face since meeting, "Really? You…like, kids?" "Of course. They're adorable." He'd have an easier time believing you if you didn't look like you were recounting the hells of war. Lost on how to continue the conversation, Yoongi tries a new approach.

He moves a tray of assorted fruit towards you, "Here. Do you like fruit? We bought all of this fresh from the local market." "I already had some." "Oh. Okay, good.. Um, I love the tangerines. I bought a whole bundle...where'd they go?” Yoongi notices that his dozen of tiny orange babies are the only fruits missing from the tray. Once again your eyes were waiting for his to catch up. "Did you-" Without breaking eye contact, possibly without breathing since Yoongi’s doubting you even have a heart right now, you peel the last tangerine. You do it slow enough that if you listened closely, you could hear it crying for 'papa Yoongi' to save it. "My...you ate...all of them." The poor boy looked like he went bankrupt with a wife and kids to feed back home. Ironic maybe? He tried his best to swallow his emotions, "That's okay. You're our guest; I'm happy to share anything with-" You pop Yoongi's last little baby into your mouth and he snaps, "That's it. Who hurt you. I demand to know." A slightly sweaty Jin joins the stand-off over his friend’s shoulder with the same scowl on his face, "See...Dokkaebi." Yoongi swears his loyalty with a single word. "Dokkaebi.."

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"Y/n i'm going to the restroom, can you-" "Got it." "Thanks!" Ji Wo runs around the corner leaving you in charge of the children. All, of the children.

Most are taking their seats, Hoseok is practically in your lap talking your ear off, and Jin is trying to shake off the two urchins still stuck to his legs. "Please!? Where is your mother it's been hours, days even!" The twins laugh at his joke and Namjoon again tries to convince Jin that he doesn't make any sense.

"No, more more!"

"Yeah more!"

"More!"

"More! MORE!"

Hoseok eventually nudges you, "Come on y/n, enough fun, the foods going to get cold." 'We never do what I want.' You snap your fingers and point to the chairs across from you. The two tumble over each other trying to see who could be the fastest. So competitive. You were proud. "Whoa, could you train Yeontan to be that obedient?" "You calling my kids dogs." There's a slight breeze behind you that could only be from Hoseok's frantic motions for Taehyung to stop talking. "I, no...nevermind."

Ji Wo comes back and sits next to her son, "Okay, let's eat!" Everyone starts to fill their plates and converse amongst themselves. Hoseok is making your plate while you're busy making the kids'. Sitting on the other side of the twins is Jungkook. He gives himself a pep-talk until he's confident that he's about to do the right thing. Yet, across from him, Yoongi and Namjoon shoot him every desperate facial expression that they know. Whatever Jungkook is about to do, they're sure it's a bad idea. 'What are they mouthing? "Dok...Dokkaebi?" What? That doesn't make any sense.' He gives them a curt 'I got this' smile so the two give up.

'Poor bastard.'

'It's always the innocent.'

Jungkook grabs the bowl in front of him and holds it out towards you. "Y/n, I made this dish specially for you. It takes a few hours to prep and another two for cooking, but Hoseok spoke so fondly of you I knew it was worth the time." You feel the pride radiating from Hoseok when he places his hand over yours. The whole thing's silly, but you let your little sunshine have his moment. "The sauce is my grandmother's secret recipe and I made the noodles from scratch. It's always a crowd favorite when I make it. I'd love it if you had some! Let me put some on your plate." "No thanks." Jungkook stops mid-reach across the table and his doe-eyed smile falters. "I, uh, promise you'll love it. It's the best dish on the table! Please, just try it-" "You trying to kill me (?) I said no" "But-" "And I won't say it again."

A pained silence falls over the group, but nothing compares to the hurt on Jungkook's face. Defeated and humiliated, he slides back down into his chair too embarrassed to lift his head. Then, "I want some!" the little girl next to him slaps a smile back on his face. "Of course sweetie, here!" This time Hoseok and Ji Wo are the ones quick to speak up in a panic. "No hun, you can't." "Jungkook don't-"

*CLINK!*

Your eyes snap to the spoon still spilling pasta on the plate. The sound rings out and fades away without a single interference. Jungkook's frozen in fear, everyone is, as they should be. You can feel Hoseok desperately squeezing your hand, silently begging you not to cut off his friends'. Ji Wo's face is pleading the same case. You listen to Jungkook's heart beat out of his chest for a few more seconds, watch his life flash before his eyes to truly remember this moment by. Removing your hand from Hoseok's, then placing it over his, is reassurance that he and Ji Wo can stop shaking. As for everyone else, they're nothing more than deer caught in headlights. "There's shrimp in that. She, and I, are both allergic to shellfish. If you feed her that, she'll die in minutes, and then you would die in seconds. Am.I.clear." There was another silence while Jungkook struggled to keep his soul from leaving his body. He couldn't believe what he had almost done and begged forgiveness from Ji Wo, "I-I'm so sorry! I had no idea, honest I wouldn't have-" "It's okay Kook, I know that you didn't know. It was an accident," her eyes drift towards you, "right y/n."

She's weary. She can tell that you haven't calmed down, not enough at least. You take your job very seriously; you love her kids as if they were your own. And if you ever did have kids of your own, then god save us all. You really were like a second parent to the twins. The kids once asked if the two of you were going to get married some day. You and Ji Wo were both laughing your asses off until you realized that Eun had fallen out of her chair. Her face was turning purple and her throat had nearly swollen shut. She laid motionless on the floor with her eyes digging into y/n's, begging for help. But no one saw what happened and didn't know what to do. Y/n took a gamble since it was their first time having lobster and gave her her epi-pen. As relieved as Ji Wo was to hear her daughter start breathing again, it would be a few weeks for her, and you, to completely move past what happened. That was the first and only time Ji Wo had seen you so unnerved; truly afraid. And right now she saw that same memory flash over your eyes in a blinding loop. She tries again, "Y/n, it was an accident…It's okay now."

"Y/n," Hoseok's gripping your fist with both of his hands, "She didn't eat any, she's okay. Jungkook knows now, they all do. Right." Every head at the table shook furiously, but you saw none of it. Your eyes locked onto Jungkook and debated which fingers to break first.

Then you felt Hoseok's grip on you change. It loosened, and his fingers gently ran over the back of your hand, something that always forced you to relax. "Angel," One of your biggest weaknesses, "please, for me." was hearing him beg. 'And that dang pet name.' You let out all of your pent-up energy into one labored sigh, finally releasing the dinner guests as hostages. Yoongi jumps from his chair as you abruptly stand. "What did you learn Jungkook." "She's-you both!-are allergic to shellfish," poor thing had been on the brink of crying this entire time, "I swear that I will never forget it-" "No. You don't question me. Ever again."

While you're turned to grab a clean plate for Eun, "Chin-hae don't stand on your chair-!" you hear the sweetest voice back you up. "Yeah! You don't ask y/n questions!" He's all but using his sister's head as a prop while sticking his sticky finger in Jungkook's face, “giving him the business” about not asking anymore questions or trying to kill his sister again. You motion for him to sit down once you're back and shoot a wink. 'That's my boy.'

——————————————————————

"Again, Ji Wo, I am so sorry for earlier at dinner. I still feel absolutely awful about it."

"It's okay Jungkook, honestly. Y/n always carries an epi-pen for both of them. Even if Eun had eaten some, she would've been okay."

"So then, that whole "she'll die in minutes, you'll die in seconds" thing was y/n just messing with me, right?"

"Of course, no chance she'd let Eun get even close to dying."

Jungkook relaxes just enough sipping his coffee to choke on it when Ji Wo continued, “But she might still kill you, that wasn't a joke." Jimin smacks his friend's back until he settles.

After dinner, you took the twins to the guest house to get ready for bed. Everyone else stayed behind and congregated towards the living room to properly catch up with Ji Wo. Before getting married, the boys saw her around all the time. Since then, they only see her on the rarest occasions. It sucks, but that's the way it has to be.

"Anyways, thank you all for letting us stay here. I know it's not everyday you guys get the chance to go on vacation."

All of you were staying at BTS's vacation home out on Daecheong Island. Technically it was Jin's vacation home, but since he always said yes when the member's wanted to use it, no one bothered listening to his empty protests anymore.

The island is located in northern South Korea; just west of Seoul. The home was well secluded, on the coastline with plenty of space and privacy, about an hour or so from the nearest town. It was a favorite place for the boys to get away since they had true privacy while there, but could still feel like they were at home. And rarely if ever would they draw attention while in town. The locals knew who they were but lived their own lives on the island and didn't care to bother them.

Namjoon pats Ji Wo's back, "Don't worry about it. We're happy to have you." "Yeah. No filming, practices, recording schedules," Jin stretches back in his chair, "no responsibilities what so ever. Plus now, you and the little ones are here? Talk about a good time." He turns towards Ji Wo though, momentarily becoming serious, "And no one knows where we are. Promise." The rest of the group offers reassurance to Ji Wo.

Hoseok leans in close to his sister, "You didn't tell anyone where you were going right? Didn't have any issues?" She shakes her head no. Anyone else would think that the boys were worried about people finding out where they were. But Ji Wo knew the truth. They wanted to make sure no one knew where she was. Especially her children.

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Flashback

You remembered the first and only time that you had met Ji Wo's ex-husband. It was the twins' third birthday party and the first of many without their father. Ji Wo pulled out all the stops to try and make it as special as possible. There ended up being just enough commotion for him to sneak in through the side gate.

You'd heard plenty about how he lost custody of the twins due to his alcoholism, and how more than once it led him to put his hands on the them. Not to mention the few screws he had loose in the head. He'd never do anything less than swear he loved his children more than anything and just wanted to be a family. But after putting Ji Wo and the twins in the hospital, twice, he didn't stand a chance in court. At the final hearing he reeked of alcohol and rambled on about making Ji Wo pay for stealing his children from him. He was detained for disorderly conduct and Ji Wo won sole custody.

There wasn't a word from him after that so no one expected him to show up that day.

You didn't know what he looked like, but the new stench of alcohol in the air and screams from Chin-hae was more than enough information. "Oh come on son, I brought you a present...I think?" The drunk stumbled around trying to feel for the nonexistent gift. Every child ran to their parents as you ushered them all inside the house. Ji Wo didn't have security then, and this was the moment to change that.

Chin-hae and Eun clung to Ji Wo's legs, remembering enough of their father to be afraid. "Seo-Jun. What are you doing here." He acted genuinely offended by her comment, "Is it not my children's birthdays? Their father should be here." He staggered closer and Ji Wo struggled not to shake more than she already was. "N-No. You, should leave. The restraining order-" "TO HELL WITH THAT PIECE OF PAPER!" His outburst even made you jump. You needed to hurry and make sure everyone was safe inside before going to help Ji Wo. Only a few more people and then you would be free to kick his pasty ass.

"Seo-Jun please, you're drunk; you're scaring the kids." "Oh, well then," his posture straightens and eyes go dark, "i'm suddenly feeling very sober. No need to be scared now. Come on kids, give your dear old dad a big hug." Only a sour breath away from them and both kids were soaked in their tears. They cried "Mom no! Don't make us!" "We'll be good! PLEASE!!" "MOM!?" Ji Wo clung onto them as hard as she could without hurting them. She took two steps back for every one Seo-Jun made. "Come on guys, you're not being very nice. You can't still be mad about last time right? I said sorry. And hey! I have some new friends for you to meet." Three men entered the backyard with eyes glued to the kids. "Seo-Jun please! Don't do this!?" "Ji Wo. Honey, you know I won't ask again," he holds out his arms, "Hand them over." When the men start advancing Ji Wo drops down to her knees to shield her children as best she could. But she was crying just as hard as they were, just as terrified.

One man had his hand on Eun's flailing leg for less than a second before being drop kicked by you running at full speed. He didn't get up until the ambulance arrived. Without hesitating you go after the next one, throwing hit after hit until he falls and doesn't get up. The third pulls out a knife and you see red. Knives, real knives like these, sent you into an unstoppable rage. You had plenty of reasons to hate them, and even more to hate Seo-Jun. The man took a few swipes at you before taking a misstep and gives you the opening you need. A single move and you get ahold of the knife, toss it, and start breaking as many of his bones as possible. This wasn't just about stopping a kidnapping anymore, it was making sure they suffered as much as time allowed you.

This would be the first time Ji Wo and the kids see you fight; see you turn into a monster, "Y/n?" and Hoseok. The look on your face must have terrified him because he stumbles back before being able to focus on the situation. Hoseok runs to help Ji Wo, taking Chin-hae so the four can make a faster break for the house.

Seeing his plan go to shit, Seo-Jun makes a last ditch effort to grab at least one of the kids. He takes after Ji Wo and Eun but luckily he's a lot slower than you are. You drop the near lifeless body you'd been breaking and sprint after him. He sees you coming and his desperation overtakes logic. Seo-Jun reaches into his jacket, "You're not taking them away again bitch! Let's see how you like it!!"

*CLICK*

"Y/N!!"

*BANG!*

A silent cry forces its way out. You're hands radiating fire from the new hole in the side of it. Your panicked reflex led to sloppy technique in redirecting the barrel of the gun from Eun. you can't let it slow you down. A left hook and solid kick to the side of his knee and Seo-Jun crumbles. Working through the pain, you knock the gun out of his hand and jump on top of him, hitting him with everything you've got; every punch you know with all the strength you have left. You couldn't feel anything from your right hand up to your elbow, 'guess I'll just have to keep going until it comes back.'

You don't know how long it's been, could be minutes maybe only seconds, but Seo-Jun had stopped moving. You know that you should probably quit now, but hearing Eun scream for you a moment ago was far too close to home. You knew that sound; you're brother made that sound. And the more you remembered it, the more it seemed this high you were on would never end. You didn't want it to. You hated Seo-Jun for everything he's done and for everything he reminded you of. The life you fought through Hell to escape from. If he lived through this, you swore you'd finish him off for good one day.

Your ears were still ringing from the gunshot but a voice fought it's way through. "y/n...Y/N! You have to stop! It's okay now! You need to calm down! Please!" If Hoseok would be honest with himself, he was too afraid of you to do more than scream from a safe distance, let alone try and touch you. The way you weren't letting up on Seo-Jun's body even for a moment. He looked over at the man you had been beating up when he arrived. His body was crumpled and folded over like a distorted carcass. It was inhumane; indigestible. He knew parts of your past but seeing it manifest in front of him? he didn't imagine being this afraid of you. Would you ever hurt him? How thin was this line you toed? Did he know you at all- "AHH-!"

*BANG!*

Hoseok doesn't move when blood splatters across his face. He can't even will his tears the courage to fall. He had been too lost in thought to realize the second man you attacked had gotten up. How he had only been step or two away from him, gripping his partners knife. He didn't notice how swiftly you turned and shot him with Seo-Jun's gun. Square between the eyes without blinking your own. You killed a man without hesitation, totally relaxed with zero remorse.

The only thing strong enough to pull you out of your rampage was someone you loved being in harms way. No amount of rage could trump the urge to protect them, and only once they were safe would you feel yourself come back to earth. You stood up, back in reality, but Hoseok was still lost in the clouds. Only a few moments ago he was debating the origins of your soul, now he knew you were his guardian angel. If not for you he would be a pile of sliced meat right now, or Ji Wo, or even the twins. They could have been taken like Seo-Jun wanted or worse, also like Seo-Jun wanted. Ji Wo was helpless to stop it and he arrived too late regardless. You knew all of this already, that's why you fought for them. With all of your heart you protected Hoseok's family; his whole world, and now him too. He'd never be able to repay you.

"D.I.P.D.! Drop the gun! Hands up both of you!"

"Backyard is secure."

"Roger that. Civilians are all accounted for and inside of the home is secure."

"We've got four bodies; call for another ambulance." "Yes sir."

"Check for pulses and take those two into custody already!" "Sir!"

The next month was nothing but back to back court hearings, being shuffled to and from your holding cell, and meeting with lawyers before and afterwards. Everyone who was at the birthday party had to testify in court, then they were free to go. But almost every one stayed throughout the entire trial. Your motives weren't lost on them; they knew what a monster Seo-Jun was and it was obvious what he was there to do. Each testimony painted you as the selfless hero who saved the day. Mounted against Seo-Jun was a multitude of eye witness testimonies, means and motive, forensic evidence, the crime scene report, and the irrefutable security camera footage. Seo-Jun's remaining accomplices got 18 months by accepting a plea deal while Seo-Jun himself received 3 years, eligible for early release after 2 on good behavior.

Normally with the amount of evidence against Seo-Jun, this case would have been open and shut in a matter of days. But in private you were being psychologically evaluated and cross examined by both teams and the judge personally, to determine your own fate. Your personal file, although sealed from the public and PI Investigations, had to be taken into consideration. In the end you were cleared of all charges and free to go. If anyone asked, the delay in your release was due to some "administrative issue with the paperwork or whatever" and so you spent that time just sitting in your cell counting sheep.

During your release, "We know who Seo-Jun is y/n. Be careful," the judge leans in close as you walk past her and whispers, "stay close to those kids." That decided your fate, whatever that may come to be. This wasn't over; Seo-Jun would be back, so not a day would go by that you weren't by their sides.

You were prepared for the worst when you saw the Jung's again. You thought they'd call you a monster and tell you to stay away. But tears poured from your eyes when Chin-hae and Eun crashed into your legs and refused to let you leave them again. Ji Wo's hug surprised you most, you two had never hugged before. She immediately hired you as the kids' personal bodyguard but if anyone asked you were their nanny. (A secondary role you fell into). She moved you into one of the spare bedrooms of her new undisclosed address and location home, just down the hall from the kids' rooms. She told you to do what you want with the room; paint it, rearrange it, knock out a wall, you name it. Then gave you a personal black card to use how you like. You told her it was all too much, trying to remain humble and modest, but it just made her cry. She couldn’t comprehend how else she could repay you for what you did for her and the kids, not that she felt this even amounted to enough.

Next you hand picked her new security detail. Each candidate had to fight you in hand-to-hand combat as the final test, and whoever didn't go down in 30 seconds made the cut. One of them managed to land a hit and became head of security, also your fill in whenever you weren't around.

Hoseok hadn't come around the first few days after your release. 'Why would he, he saw what I can really do. What i'm really like.' Ji Wo would tell you not to worry or think too much, that he probably just needed a bit more time to process some things.

You woke up on morning and were instantly suspicious, "What?" Ji Wo just kept smiling ang giggling to herself on the couch, "Oh, nothing. Just a funny book." "You're not reading a book-" "Oh the door! I wonder who that could be." You turn to the guard stationed in the main hallway, "She hasn't been drinking has she?" "No ma'am."

Ji Wo prances back into the room, "It's for you!" then off into the kitchen. "Ji Wo I know you're pretending; you haven't cleaned a single dish in 6 years." "Just go to the door?!" You shuffle down the hall, "I hope your mystery guest doesn't mind me looking like hell!"

"They don't,"

you stop.

"They think you always look pretty great actually."

"Hoseok..."

He stood at the door holding your favorite flowers and dressed to the nines, "What is this, what are you doing?" He stepped through the threshold, "Can I come in? I don't want to end up like the last guy who didn't ask you." His joke was stupid and inappropriate but he laughed like a goofball all the same. You tried to smile but couldn't stop the frown from forming. You look down at your feet suddenly feeling ashamed and embarrassed in front of Hoseok. He closes the door and puts down the flowers. He holds your hands in his, "What's wrong?" "Nothing I," 'I was afraid you hated me,' "I just missed you. You haven't been around since..." The words were stuck in your throat and you were at a loss at how to get them out. "I thought..." He understood, "Hey no, no. I'll admit I did need some time to process what happened but, I could never..." 'I'm not afraid of you,' He cupped your face and lifted it to make sure you heard this next part, "I owe you my life y/n. You saved all of us, and that's not something that a bad person would do. I could never be afraid of you; I love you." You wiped a stray tear and playfully punched Hoseok in the shoulder, "Hobi don't," "What? I don't mean like that!" You both laughed. It was a relief to feel like things were back to normal between the two of you.

"You know what I mean." "Yeah I do. I love you too Hoseok. Now seriously, what is all of this; what's with the get up?" "Oh, well I was worried that you might be feeling a little down so I wanted to treat you to a day out! Starting with breakfast at that fancy restaurant you like." "The one with the giant fish tank? And we get to pick out which fish we want to eat?!" "Yes now hurry up and go get dressed, our reservation's in 45 minutes." Your sprint towards your room looked the exact same as the twins. Passing the kitchen you hear Ji Wo, "He's feeding you isn't he." "YUP! My favorite!" “Bring me back some-" "Absolutely not!"

20 minutes later and you're speeding back down the stairs dressed and ready to go. "There's no need to pull me out the door like this! We have a reservation; we won't have to wait to eat-"

"But all the good fish could already be gone! I want one so fat and juicy it has rolls!"

"Fish don't have rolls-y/n you're drooling on my sleeve-Ew it's on my hand! Let go already!"

You shove his body into the car and jump in after him, "Let's go Dae-Hyun! Get us there in 10 minutes and i'll get you whatever you want to eat." "Deal."

"Don't you mean i'll get him-?"

"Not now Hoseok I have to focus. Momma's going fishing."

Hoseok rolls his eyes at your theatrical evil grin, "For someone with a shellfish allergy you're too excited to eat fish."

"What can I say, I go wherever the spirits lead me."

"You're not spiritual."

"I am when they lead me to fish."

End of Flashback

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

"Good night honey. Sweet dreams." You had already finished tucking Chin-hae into bed and now it was his sisters turn. "Sweet dreams y/n. You'll be here when I wake up right?" "Always." You kiss her forehead and turn off the lights when you leave. You went down the hall to your room to change into something more comfortable before heading back out to the main house. Security had already been stationed around the guest house, so you felt okay leaving the twins here alone for a while. On your way out, you passed by the kid's room once more, 'Eun must have been really tired. How has her snoring never woken up Chin-hae before.’

You smile thinking about those rascals on your walk back to the main house.

Jung Chin-hae and Jung Eun.

Your favorite people in the whole world. A fact that hurt Hoseok's feelings even though he felt the same way. He never knew if because of his lifestyle, he would ever actually find true love, get married, and have children of his own. So his niece and nephew were the closest that he was going to get, and he loved them with all of his heart.

Ji Wo chose Chin-hae's name because it means 'depth of the ocean.' Going to the beach and being on the water was something that she craved constantly while she was pregnant with them. It was her escape and sense of peace while she faced struggles in her personal life. She had recurring dreams about sailing off with her children, away from their problems, and starting new lives as mermaids living happily in the sea. When they were born Chin-hae came out first, technically making him older, and it's how he acted. He was a textbook caring and protective big brother to his sister. His emotions could sometimes get the better of him (as demonstrated at dinner) but he had the biggest heart and was so thoughtful. Especially when it came to Eun.

Eun's name was chosen without a second thought. As soon as she opened her eyes, she looked up at Ji Wo with shining silver eyes. As beautiful as they were, there was concern. The doctors did some tests and found out that Eun was colorblind. They explained, in laymen's terms, that the parts of the eye that perceived color hadn't developed and therefor lacked pigment. That's why her eyes looked silver, and how Ji Wo chose her name.

When the two got older, Ji Wo tried explaining that Eun was colorblind, but Chin-hae didn't understand and thought that she meant Eun was completely blind. This misunderstanding created many memories that you'll never forget. You laugh to yourself thinking about one of your favorites. Chin-hae was constantly by his sister's side since learning that she was 'blind'. He was always holding her hand, trying to do everything for her, even tried brushing her teeth every now and then. One time you had called them to dinner but heard the two yelling at each other in the other room.

"Careful Eun! You have hold my hand, there's a step, you'll fall!"

"No I won't! I do it myself!"

"You can't! You're blind!"

"Nu uh! I see you!"

"No! You not see anything!"

Eun gasped, "I not see you?"

"No!"

She immediately started bawling her eyes out, "No oppa, I not see you!"

Chin-hae did his best to comfort her and grabbed her hand, "Hush Eun, it's okay. You always just hold me, like this."

He walked her over to the table and sat like nothing had happened but you couldn't wait to relay it all to Ji Wo. It was the sweetest thing watching him make her plate and then try to feed her. Ji Wo had to explain things a few more times before they finally understood what she meant. Even so, he still describes every color that he sees to her whenever she asks. You often daydream that that's how things could have been with you and your brother.

You let the bitter-sweet memory fade away when you enter the living room and take a seat next to Hoseok. ‘Of course he was saving me a seat next to him.’ He nuzzles himself into your side and carries on talking about the upcoming festival on the island. No one listens to a word he says because how could they? Did he just willingly throw himself into the lions den? What were you going to do they thought,

‘is she going to gouge out his eyes?’

‘Stab him for invading her space?’

‘Pull out his hair?’

‘Use his bones to make her bread-? Oh wait no that’s Shrek.’

Your only reaction though is to put your arm around him and listen to his rambling about this festival. You never bored of your ray of sunshine. You could always count on him to lift you up or calm you down. Of everyone you knew, no one was able to explain how the two of you could be so close. With seemingly nothing in common, you were total opposites and not in a cute Christmas romcom type of way. But maybe that was why you loved him so much.

The expectation is that the people who’d like you would look just as scary, be just as off putting, just as much a monster as you knew you really were. Yet it was someone like Hoseok to welcome you into his life. He saw the sliver of a good heart that you still had and spoke life into it.

“You’ll never leave us again.”

“We owe you our lives.”

“You’re not a bad person.”

“I love you y/n.”

Even though you weren’t into holding hands, snuggling on the couch, or going to whatever festival Hoseok was talking about, you’d do it for him. For all of them. So you let him snuggle into your side while you run your fingers through his hair like he liked, and Hoseok plays with your free hand. “-that sound good to you y/n?”

‘God knows what he’s talking about’

“Yeah sounds good Hobi.”

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willymywonkers · 3 years

Text

The Factory (5/5)

Summary: It's been a few weeks since the Factory tour, and Maude is much happier than she ever was. Charlie comes over, and tells her about his experience with Willy. She finds that he rejected Willy's offer. However, she gets a surprise visit from a familiar stranger.

A/N: the final chapter baby!!! I know it's this series was short, but I promise I will still be posting other stories with Maude and Willy, I've just got some major school shit to work out. My Masterlist should be up tomorrow.

Tagged: @holdmeicant @wonkasmissstarshine

It was a mid February day, and things seemed to be getting better for the Buckets. Harry Bucket had gotten a new job, with much better pay, and Grandpa Joe was much better.

Maude was back in school teaching. Charlie couldn't be happier to see her face again.

Maude even started a class teaching kids the chemistry behind making candy. She loved hanging out with the kids, but there was something missing in her life.

Despite being much cheerful, she couldn't get her mind off Will. She noticed Wonka's sales had been dropping. The newspaper began spreading rumors about him, but, of course, they weren't true.

The soft buzz from her door distracted her from her thoughts. Maude smiled, already knowing who it was.

Charlie smiled back at her, wiping the snow off his boots.

"Hello, Charlie." Maude chuckled, inviting him in.

"Hello, Ms. Figgle. Here, I got some extra tips from shoe shining, and I wanted to split this with you." Charlie handed her a Wonka bar from his pocket.

Maude smiled, taking the candy bar. "How thoughtful of you, dear."

She took a piece, but it didn't taste the same. It had a bitter taste, but it wasn't the chocolate. Chewing on the candy suddenly made Maude's good mood shift to a guilty feeling.

"This doesn't taste right." Maude said. The candy didn't have its velvety texture like it used to.

Charlie took a bite of the bar, and agreed.

"Did something happen with you and Will on the trip?" Maude asked, slightly concerned.

"Well, Mr. Wonka offered to give me his entire factory, but he wouldn't let me ever see my family again." Charlie explained.

Maude looked, slightly confused. "Really?"

"Yeah. I thought he was really nice at first. I guess he only cares about himself." Charlie sighed, disappointed.

Maude sighed, just as disappointed.

"Did he ever mention me? At all?" She asked.

"No, I don't think so." Charlie replied.

Maude's heart began to break. Of course, this was expected. She didn't expect Willy to remember her, and how she was his biggest influence in his life.

The cold sad guilt started to consume her once again.

Willy Wonka found himself in an odd situation. Ever since Charlie turned down his offer to live with him, he had been feeling odd. He felt guilty somehow.

This feeling greatly affected his chocolate sales, and he just didn't know why.

Childhood memories started coming back to him. It drove him nuts. He remembered the constant bullying. How he was an outcast to the other children.

Wired Willy is what the kids called him. They would pebbles at his house, taunting him.

God, how he hated his childhood. Willy sat his desk. His mind was clouded, and he could barely focus on his work.

"Check out loser Willy." The kids shouted. "He's like a turtle, slow and cowardly."

Willy couldn't stand it. He was so helpless. He remembered the kids pushing him to the ground and kicking him hard in the stomach.

He gulped hard. It was hard to make him cry, but those memories were enough to push Willy to his limit.

"Hey ASSHATS." A young girl cursed. "Leave him alone or I'll dissect you lot."

Willy remembered the appearance of a girl with messy pigtails and dirt on her face.

She threw some dead things at the kids, and all the kids ran off, terrified of the girl.

Willy wasn't terrified. In fact, the young girl was his savior. He remembered how she loved to chew gum.

"Maude." Will whispered. He felt upset saying her name out loud. She wasn't around anymore, and he hadn't spoken to her in years.

He sat with his supposed 'therapist'.

"I just don't understand." Willy said. "Why am I thinking about her now? I should be over her."

The Oompa Loompa nodded, writing something down.

"I just feel like there's something missing." Willy said, thinking. "I've been feeling terrible, so the candy's terrible. So, how do I fix that?"

The Oompa Loompa shrugged.

Will sat up. "Maybe I'm feeling this way because of my past actions lead up to Charlie ejecting my offer, and I should see things from outside my own perspective." He smirked over at his 'therapist'. "Oh, you're good."

The next day, Willy took a trip into town, wearing all black, in hopes of finding Charlie. He parked his large flying glass elevator in the most convenient spot, and saw the boy shining shoes.

As the boy went on a bit of a break, Willy took a seat on the bench and flipped through the local newspaper, conveniently covering his face.

Charlie kneeled down, and began to work on Willy's shoes.

"I hear that guy, Wendell Walters." Willy began to speak.

"Willy Wonka?" Charlie corrected.

"Yeah, him. I hear his chocolate hasn't been doing well. It seemed to he's a bad egg who deserves it." Willy said.

"Yeah." Charlie agreed.

"Have you met him?" Willy asked.

"I did once. At first, I thought he was nice, but then he wasn't. He also has a funny haircut." Charlie replied, trying to antagonize Willy. He caught on from the moment he sat down.

Willy tossed the newspaper down. "I do not."

"Why are you here?" Charlie got up, and crossed his arms.

"I don't feel so hot." Willy snapped. He sighed, frustrated. "What helps you feel better when you feel down?"

"My family."

"Ew." Willy winced.

Charlie started to get slightly upset. "What do have against my family?"

"It's not your family. It's the idea of-" Willy seemed to struggle on the right word.

"Parents?"

"That." Willy sighed. "And, something else."

"And, what's that?" Charlie asked. "Whatever it is, you should face what's troubling you. My teacher tells me that."

"Well, that sounds like a bunch of baloney." Willy scoffed.

"It's not. She's very smart." Charlie said.

"Then, maybe she should help me." Willy said, sarcastically. Then, he thought for a second. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. Do you think you could show me to her?"

Charlie nodded. "Sure."

Willy smiled wide. "That's great! You know, I actually have trans-"

He ran into the glass elevator face first. "I should really be careful to where I park this thing."

Willy walked into the elevator, with Charlie following behind. He pressed a single button, and they were off.

Maude was in her bedroom, playing the violin. Her fingers danced over the strings as the bow shifted back and forth, playing a calming tune. The smoothness of the instrument brought her temporary peace.

It had been a while since she touched the instrument, since she only played it when she was particularly sad. However, in this moment, she felt contentment.

It did hurt her knowing that Will completely forgotten about her, but she wasn't going to let that guilt follow her into the bright future.

Maude heard a soft knock at the door. She placed the instrument down, walking out of her bedroom.

It was Charlie, of course.

"Hello, dear." Maude smiled.

"Ms. Figgle, there's someone I want you to meet." Charlie said.

Behind him was a stunned Willy Wonka. He gulped hard, nervously smiling at Maude.

She stood there, baffled. "Come in." She spoke softly, gesturing the boys in.

Willy nodded, putting his coat and hat down.

The three of them sat in the living room. A silence consumed the room, as Will and Maude stared at each other for a few minutes.

"Hi Willy." Maude said, finally. "How are you?"

Willy smiled, slightly. "Hey Maude. I'm fine."

"Would you like some tea?" She asked.

He nodded. "Absolutely."

Maude drifted off to the kitchen. After a few minutes, she came back with tea and cookies.

Charlie looked over to Willy, and nodded.

"Ms. Figgle, do you know where the restroom is?" Charlie asked.

"Down the hall, and to the left." Maude said. Her eyes were still locked with Willy's.

Charlie took this opportunity to leave the two adults alone.

"So, you're a teacher now?" Willy reached for his tea.

"Yes, but I teach the science of candy making." Maude said, grabbing a cookie.

"That's great." He smiled. "You know, candy making does require a lot of smarts."

She chuckled. "Yeah."

Willy's smile slightly faded as he looked down at his tea. "Say, uh, would you ever want to get back into candy making again?"

She smiled, chuckling again. "Well, I would. I loved working with you in the factory."

"You did?" His puppy dog eyes were too much to bear.

Maude nodded. "Of course."

His smile soon faded. "Would you ever forgive me, Maude?"

"For what?" She asked confused.

"For coming between you and Ron. I know how much you loved him, and I just got so jealous that I pushed you away." Willy looked down at his tea, stirring it slowly.

Tears poured softly down Maude's cheek. "That's not true, Will."

Willy looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Ron pulled me away from you." She sniffed. "I didn't love him."

"You didn't?" Willy repeated.

"No." She scoffed. "I loved you."

His eyes widened. He clenched his gloved hands, and gulped. "R-really?"

Maude nodded, wiping off any tears with a piece of paper tissue.

He leaned over to her. His gloved hand hovering over her wet cheek. Will placed a soft kiss on her quivering lips. Maude gave into the kiss, gently.

They pulled away after a minute or so.

Will cleared his throat, and chuckled, slightly.

Maude smiled, holding his hands in hers. She placed her head against Will's chest. Willy embraced the hug, holding Maude in his arms.

"I think I loved you too, Maude." He said. "Do you think you'd still might wanna live with me in the factory?"

She chuckled. "Only if Charlie says yes."

Behind her, Charlie was smiling brightly at the two.

"Charlie?" Willy Wonka began. "Would you and your family like to live in the factory with me?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes, of course."

He hugged both Maude and Willy.

Finally, it became clear to Willy about what he was missing.

This became the start of something beautiful.

#catcf #catcf 2005 #willy wonka #maude figgle #maude and willy #catcf fan character #catcf oc #willy wonka x reader #charlie bucket

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

Text

8. Chemistry

"Hand in your assignments and take your seats," Mr. Udaku orders clicking through his files which we all see through the projector. He pulls up a PowerPoint presentation and starts lecturing before students even sit back down properly. Personally I like that he doesn't waste time. I've already read through these chapters and watched videos about them in my own time, so this is exactly what it's meant to be for me.. a review to make sure I know it all and I do. He can actually start vlippong through faster because I've yet to take a note while people write and type like lightening trying to keep up with him.

I could take a nap in my seat if I didn't think he'd kick me out. I wish I could test out now and get it over with because I'm about to blow the hell out the curve if he does it.

After class I go to my room to review the answer sheet I earned from Mr. Stevens but first I take the test on my own to see how well I'd have done.

"I missed 6 out of 50 questions, fuck this," I gape in shock throwing the packet off my bed and rolling onto my back to rub my eyes. "I can't believe this shit." I'd have gotten a B. One question away from a 90%. I spit on a 90, I'm better than that!

Apparently not, you scored an 88, my mind echoes and I'm not happy with this, it can't fly. Not at all. I know now what I don't know and what to target and nobody better hit my phone because until I drill this into my head, nothing and no one else exists. I turn my phone completely off.

xoxo.

Arriving in Mr. Stevens' class, he isn't in the room yet which is weird because he always starts on time. I take my seat front and center like usual, adjusting the tiny legs of my ripped denim hotpants over my white bodysuit. Half the class is already there and the other half is coming in with a minute before class is supposed to start. He usually closes the door two minutes after the start of class and doesn't allow students in unless they've called him ahead of time. I had to do that once.. call him because I was busy making money with a client and it took slightly longer than I thought. More confident than ever, I turn on my laptop and sit back looking at the time. He should be here, it's time to start.

On cue, he walks in and I look him up and down. I don't know if anyone else can tell or is even paying attention, but the bottom of his black dress shirt seems ill-adjusted, read: SLOPPY, which is different for him, he's usually impeccably put together. His outfit game is still on point nonetheless. His ties are always clean. Today he's wearing a red one that looks so smooth to the touch. I'm tempted to get up and feel it. I wonder if he'd let me with all these people watching.

"Quiet down, I'm calling role. Answer when you're called," he announces sitting on the edge of the center table with his clipboard and as he runs through names, I'm running through reasons why I think he'd show up looking all rosey and disheveled. Did he not look in a mirror? Not likely. Rough time getting here? He definitely ironed. His pants are crisp. The obvious answer burning in my mind says he got laid. He's been having some sex or at least getting a blowjob from someone but who, I wonder as I stare. I sneak small glances at my peers in curiosity . My pen taps my glossy bottom lip. I'm curious to know.

"Phoebe," he calls making no eye contact as he scribbles on his clipboard. He's acting normally I see.

"Present," I mutter around the pen that sits between my teeth, still eyeing him. Everytime I see him he just looks so good. Looking him over, I'm lusting. I wish I had his dick in my mouth again. I want him to look at me one good time so I can eyefuck him real good.

He glances up every few names, mostly when someone takes too long to speak and I wait to catch his eye but he won't look.

I wonder who he had sex with and if it was a teacher or a student.

He gets through the roll and flips through the pages clipped to the clipboard as we wait to see what we're doing today.

He pouts and jots something down which is also normal for him to do, getting himself ready to lecture. Then he looks up and out to the class, taking an exhale through his mouth.

"We're gonna do things a little differently today. I'm gonna call on someone and they're gonna teach the class." Looking around briefly at the shook faces in the class, his eyes finally land on mine. "Phoebe," he volunteers with no room for dissent. I can't say I didn't expect him to do something today to get back at me for ignoring his calls, but what did he expect? I already have the test packet.

Standing, I bring my textbook to the floor where he stands and he brushes by me taking my seat and sitting back like I do with his arms crossed.

"We're all ears," he shrugs. Jokes on him though, I don't have a problem with teaching the class. It comes out of me easily. I start where my notes start on the page I'm on in my notebook.

"Ok well let's talk about Nucleoside triphosphate. A nucleoside triphosphate is a molecule containing a nitrogenous base bound to a 5-carbon sugar with three phosphate groups bound to the sugar, make sense? It's a nucleotide. Someone tell me what's a nucleotide."

"It forms DNA," a guy says.

"Ok, but say more. There's more to it than that." She starts flipping through his textbook. "Without looking in your book," I challenge. "The exam is not open book." He closes his book and shrugs. When I look to Mr. Stevens, he's staring at my thighs and offering no help. "Ok pay attention," I say looking at him and back to the student who answered. "Nucleotides form the basic structural unit of nucleic acids such as DNA. There are four different types of DNA nucleotides: adenine, thymine, guanine, and cytosine."

As I talk, I glance around the room at all my classmates. Some of them watch me. Some of them can't stand me so I see the crusted over expressions on their faces. Some of them are taking notes. I think I'm doing well.

Then I look at Mr. Stevens again. Is he sleep? He looks like he's knocked with his chin tucked. I can't believe it! Can he do that? I keep talking regardless.

"DNA is interesting, you just have to relate it to something you care about, like think of an Ancestry DNA testing clit, nucleotides play a role in DNA sequencing."

People start to snicker. At first I ignore it, but I'm wondering what's so funny.

"A what," another guy asks, smiling.

"Hm? Nucleotides play a role in DNA-"

"Before that," he smirks and now I definitely want to be clued in on what's got everyone laughing.

"What. I said DNA is interesting, think of a DNA testing kit, nucleotides-"

"That's not what you said," Mr. Stevens interrupts. "What you said was something else entirely. Something I won't repeat in this class. That's alright, have a seat."

"What did I-"

"Have a seat, Ms. Miller," he glares trading spots with me again. It's probably strange, but my peach is immediately activated making its nectar. It's because of that look, I remember that look in his office. I avert my attention in the name of staying focused. He sighs taking his seat on the corner of the table again and calming the class. "You know to say you all are in college, you act worse than kindergarteners. I can see I'll have to switch up my methods. Group assignments."

Instantly I look at Sonrisa, this Salvadorian girl I've worked with in Mr. Udaku's class. She looks at me and smiles. She actually works unlike my deskmate Ethan. I can't stand working with him on anything and I have complained to Mr. Stevens about it.

"Everyone work with the person beside you, that way this can go faster," Mr. Stevens amends glancing at me with a brief wink and I know he's done this to spite me. Given the assignment, it takes us to the end of class and I have to do it all as Ethan texts God knows who all while Mr. Stevens stares a hole into my face. I do finish early, but I'm furious.

At the end of class, he calls my name along with two others saying that he needs to speak with us. I start to cut out, but something stops me. I look at Mr. Stevens closely and how close he's standing to the first girl he's speaking with. It's a little too close and she touches his arm.

"Mr. Stevens," she grins with wine colored lips pushing her wavy brown hair behind her triple-pierced ear. "Hows that thing we talked about today?"

My ears prick up and very briefly, his eyes flicker to mine.

"We'll discuss that, but right now I need to warn you about using your phone while in my class, Ms. Zywicki, that's unacceptable. Checking it once or twice is fine, but anytime you spend class time on your phone, it's disrespectful.

"I was researching," her eyes widen defensively."

"That's what your textbook is for. If I have to tell you again."

"You didn't have anything to say about my partner, Ethan. I find that interesting," I speak up and she looks to me and back to him.

"Oh I've spoken to Mr. Hall on multiple occasions," he stares unblinking. "He's not concerned so I'm not concerned. I don't know why he bothers to come to class. Now, if you don't mind, I was speaking to Ms. Zywicki." His eyes cut back to her and it's one motion short of an eyeroll. I know he's a teacher, but teacher or no teacher, I don't do disrespect. I put my hand on my hip staring at him as he warns the girl again. Nodding, she takes up her bag and leaves. Now there's another girl with beachy brown waves who speaks to him only she's telling him that she's going to be in the hospital for surgery during exams and needs to test early.

When it's my turn, I'm the last person in the room. I cross my arms and tilt my head waiting for him to speak. I didn't call myself here.

"You were inappropriate today," he says sternly and I'm confused. What did I say? No one told me.

"How so?"

"Next time you say something inappropriate in my class, I will take disciplinary action."

"Ok, well I'll dispute it because as far as I know, you can't tell me what I said wrong."

"You know you have a habit of talking back to me. It's funny because when I want you to talk, you can't. What's up with you ignoring my calls? What did I tell you?

"Man, please," I wave dismissing him. He chuckles and I give him the stink look before he turns walking to the door and looking out. He locks it.

"You do remember right? What I told you?" His walk back is slower, more relaxed.

"Yes, and?"

"You didn't answer my call." He loosens his silk tie and my craving returns with a vengeance as I watch him. "You knew the stakes," he mutters taking it off. He wraps it around his fingers. "Bend over."

"I don't feel like it."

Honestly, I want him to make me. Just grab me.

"Feel," he questions holding my chin. "You are an object. You exist for the amusement of your master."

Pushing his hand from my chin, I start toward the door and he grabs my hand. I glance back and he steps closer. "You will obey me per our contract keeping in mind that you haven't passed yet."

"That's true, but with the answer packet why do I need to stick to the contract?" I laugh trying to shake my hand free.

"Because I have two versions of the test on my computer with completely different questions, Ms. Miller," he says dryly. "But by all means backtrack, I don't mind switching them out." He drops my hand, putting his in his pocket and grabbing his clipboard from the table.

That changes things. I don't have a comment for that.

"What's to stop you from switching the tests anyway to spite me? How do I know you'll use the test you gave me?"

"We have a deal, Ms. Miller," he packs the clipboard into his briefcase. "A deal that you seem all too willing to break. I think we need some more conditions, what you think?"

I swallow wishing I'd kept my mouth shut and that he'd just grab me instead of talking while he's standing there looking all daddy-ish. "Whatever," I mutter.

"Whatever?" His brows raise. He nods and sits his suitcase carefully in the floor before standing and coming closer to me. I can feel my body's awareness increasing as he pierces my personal atmosphere. I look up as he gets close enough to tower over me. He's close enough for me to touch by lifting my arm. His face lowers to the left of my neck as his hand gently touches the right. I can feel his soft breathing and I close my eyes enjoying his gentle warm ghosting touch on my skin bringing me the good chills.

"You want me to grab you?" It's so seductive in my ear.

"Yes," I reply.

"You want me to be rough, don't you? You know I can do that for you."

"Do it," I dare. The air from his nearly silent laugh tickles my neck and he kisses me right there in that spot.

"But first," he steps back. "Bend that ass over the desk. This my last time telling you. I'm finna get real hostile."

"How hostile is real hostile," I tease twisting in place at the waist, hands clasped under my chin. I flutter my lashes.

"Real hostile," he whispers with a smirk. He starts a count on his fingers. "Let's see. You ignored my call, not once. Four times. You disobeyed me twice today and still haven't done what I told you. On top of that, you aren't slutty enough for me."

"I've got full thigh out." Putting out a bare leg, I show it off. "It's the same thigh, you were ogling in class. Speaking of, when does the next one come in here?"

"Like I said. You aren't slutty enough for me. I remember telling you to give me something more to look at in class. This ain't nothing but what you been doing."

"How naked do you expect me to get," I frown putting my hand back on my hip and craning my neck.

"That's another strike. You want another one," he asks and his eyes look hectic, frenzied. It's turning me on and frustrating me especially since he's not touching me and he knows how to touch me.

"I've been wondering something all class period," my head tilts. "Who were you with before you came in here?"

"Strike four. That's not your business."

"I still would love to know," I smile sweetly.

"Oh you don't wanna know that," he smirks.

"I already have an idea who it is. That girl.. who asked you asked you about something you two discussed? You're doing with her what you're doing with me?"

"Except you know what? She didn't get the answers. She got a grade changed on a test. Don't you feel special?"

"I don't compete. Anyway, I'm not sure when the next class is coming in. We should probably leave."

"Strike five. One more, come on," he urges and now I'm mildly uncomfortable. He wants me to piss him off. Well, I do know how to. I start to walk away again ignoring his lazy unfelt command for me to stop and then he gives another small and quiet laugh. "Strike 6."

I unlock the door and open it, sorry to miss out on seeing that dick again, but when I walk out it's the strangest thing. Maybe I'm really tired from studying, but it looks like I just walked in a circle. I'm re-entering the classroom and Mr. Stevens is sitting there on the desk with a smirk.

Sighing, I decide I don't need wrinkles and relax my face turning to walk out. Like I'm on acid, I seem to be hallucinating or getting turned around. He's still in front of me with this smirk. I try to leave again with no change in scenario and now I'm beginning to panic. I'm not even high.

"You're not crazy," he says beckoning me over with a curve of his finger. "You're just.. inexperienced," he nods. "Now. Get ya ass over here," he bites, but honestly fuck that because I'm tripping out. I try the door again but it disappears, like literally vanishes. "Tsk tsk tsk," he clicks with his tongue shaking his head. "Poor Gemini, is she lost?"

"What the hell is this?" I look around feeling like I'm in the Twilight Zone.

"This?" He looks around. "This is a classroom, but I'm guessing that's not what you mean."

No. It's not what I mean.

He walks closer and strokes my cheek, his fingers light in a trail under my chin.

"You must have so many questions," he mutters looking into my eyes as I look back, troubled.

"Why is it so hot all of a sudden?"

"Why is it-" he exhales in humor. "First of all..Welcome to Hell Ms. Miller."

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens

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gracexbeck · 5 years

Text

Facade | Quentin Beck x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Far From Home spoilers and slightly obsessive/possessive/manipulative Quentin; implications of sex

When Quentin came up with his plan to become "the next Tony Stark", he knew he was missing something. And when he saw you, a chaperone for Peter Parker's class during their European field trip, he knew exactly what, well, who it was. He needed a damsel in distress. A companion. Someone to be on his arm on the red carpet. He needed someone to be the Pepper Potts to Tony Stark, the Bucky Barnes to Steve Rogers, the Wanda Maximoff to Vision.

His plan was quite simple actually. When he first saw you leading the students around, rolling your eyes at that weird teacher that kept talking about his ex-wife, he was captivated. He immediately used his drones and his cronies to find out everything about you. From your friends and family, to your job, to your mother's maiden name, to all your favorite things, your darkest secrets and all that good stuff. Then all he had to do was stage a "little accident" where you were and rescue you and put his acting skills to use.

The Water Elemental was great for this. You got yourself separated from the rest of your group to look for that kid Peter Parker. He was always running off whenever things were going bad and you and your favorite student, MJ had this theory that he was the friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man.

"Peter?!" You shouted as you ran down the cobblestone streets, feeling like a fish swimming upstream as you battled the swarm of people trying to escape.

"What the hell," you grumbled to yourself, questioning why you volunteered to chaperone a bunch of hormonal teenagers. All of a sudden, a huge wave enveloped you, pulling you into the river.

"This is not how I die!" you huffed as you tried to swim your way out of the watery mess. But the current was too strong. You felt yourself slowly getting pulled closer to the Elemental.

"Oh shi-"

You were cut off by someone grabbing you and the next thing you knew, you were flying in the air.

"I got you miss," a strangers deep voice whispered in your ear. You looked up at your savior and saw a magical Asgardian astronaut? You didn't actually know what was happening and you definitely didn't recognize him as one of the Avengers. He placed you on the roof of a building.

"I'll be back in a second," he remarks. You couldn't tell because of his fishbowl helmet thingy, but you were pretty damn sure he said that with a smirk. Entranced by this mysterious new hero, you stared in awe as he defeated the water monster with ease. He quickly returned to you and took off his helmet, revealing his face.

Damn. You thought to yourself. Why are all these superheroes super hot?

"Are you okay?" He asked you, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm completely soaked but I'm fine," you responded. You could feel his deep blue eyes penetrating you.

"It can't be," he murmured, staring at you in awe. "Y/N?"

"How-How do you know my name?" You questioned him, slowly backing away.

"Don't!" He begged. "It's just.." His voice faltered and he took a shaky breath. "You were my wife."

"I was what?!"

"Sorry, that was, I mean..." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Let me explain from the beginning. Please."

"Fine, but make it quick," you agreed. "I gotta get back to my group."

"My name is Quentin Beck. I'm from another Earth. Earth-833. The whole time-traveling and the Blip, all of that, it tore hole in the multiverse. And that's how these Elementals and I got here." He cautiously took a step towards you, not wanting to scare you off.

"You were my wife Y/N. In that Earth. But..." He trailed off once again.

"I died and you couldn't save me?"

He nodded solemnly. "Along with our kids. And the Fire Elemental, that was the one that destroyed my Earth." He closed the gap between the two of you, taking your hands.

"I swear, on my life, that I will protect you and this Earth."

"Quentin," you said, trying to console him. "I'm sorry about what happened, but I barely know you. I'm sorry," you said, pulling away.

"Please!" He exclaimed, desperate for your attention. "You may not know me, but I know you."

He launched into a full on speech, complete with personal details from your life, things only your closest friends and family knew about you. There was something about him, something that pulled you into a trance. He was mesmerizing. His charisma, his longing stares, his raw emotion drew you into his charm and you found yourself agreeing to a date later on that evening. He dropped you off at your hotel, pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and flew away saying, "I'll see you at seven!"

Your students gaped in awe and pestered you with questions. Even Flash was amazed and nearly fainted at the close proximity Mysterio was to him.

Eventually, seven o'clock came and Quentin met you outside your hotel wearing a button up with its sleeves rolled up, revealing his (very muscular) forearms.

He sure does clean up nice. You thought to yourself as he offered you his arm. You were wearing your favorite f/c dress that fell just above your knees.

"You look beautiful, Y/N," he breathed in your ear as he pulled you closer. "You always do."

All you could do was smile and blush at his simple yet sweet compliment. The two of you walked around the city of Venice, chatting the whole time. It seemed as though you'd known this man your entire life and you felt you could tell him anything. As you and Quentin sat on a bench continued to talk, a string quartet began to play some music. Quentin stood up and offered you his hand.

"May I have this dance?" He asked you with a shy smile.

"You may," you responded with a grin.

He pulled you a close and intimate slow dance and while it felt cliche at first, it felt as if you were the only two people on Earth. He eventually had to leave, saying that he had to meet with Fury and when you arrived back at your hotel, all you could do was smile as you replayed the night's events in your mind as you drifted off into a comforting sleep.

A couple days later in Prague, you lead your students into the opera house and sat in the back, missing Quentin. You hadn't seen him since your date but he texted you all time. Right before the opera began, you noticed MJ following Peter out of the opera house. Not wanting to lose your students, you followed them. You managed to catch up to MJ.

"What do you think you're doing?" You huffed, coming up behind her.

"Ms. L/N?!" She yelped. "I um, I was just...I needed a breath of fresh air?"

"I saw you follow Peter," you remarked.

"What? I totally was not, I definitely most certainly not following Peter because he's definitely up to something," she stammered in reply.

"I'll take care of him later MJ, but you need to go back to your classmates," you commented. "I know you have a crush on him but that doesn't mean-"

You were cut off by people's screams. You looked up and saw this fiery thing emerge and begin to destroy stuff.

"Okay, you definitely gotta go now," you quipped as you pushed in the direction of the opera house. "I'll find Peter." Again.

MJ rushed into an alley as you began to search for the child. "Why does he always gotta do this," you grumbled to yourself as you pushed past the frantic crowd. Suddenly what you assumed was the Fire Elemental was in front of you.

"Oh for heavens sake not again," you complained, bracing yourself for the worst. But, it never came. The next thing you knew, you were in Quentin's arms once again and he and some sticky guy in all black that claimed to be "Night Monkey" (and was suspiciously similar to Spider-Man) ended up beating the fiery creature.

Once the chaos dwindled, you found yourself in Quentin's hotel room, laying in his bed, wrapped in his arms.

"I don't know what I would've done if I lost you again Y/N," he confessed.

"But you didn't lose me," you responded with a small smile. "Thank you."

He captured you into a kiss, a kiss that quickly turned passionate as you ran your hands through his hair and clothes began to fly off. He encapsulated you into a deeper kiss, with you longing for his touch and you let your bodies melt into the night.

—————————-

You woke up in an empty bed, sunlight streaming in through the windows. You got out of the bed and wandered into the closet. You threw on one of his t-shirts and then you heard his voice.

"Oh, we're in the endgame now buddy!" You heard him exclaim. Curious, you moved closer to the sound of his voice.

"I've got our little Y/N wrapped around my finger. I can't believe she actually fell for that story. My fans are going to absolutely love this. Next thing you know, we're going to be the next Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. She's the perfect damsel in distress. I'll see you in a little bit so we can finish our London plans. Okay?"

Fell for his story? Damsel in distress? London? Your mind began to race. What was going on? You grabbed your phone and looked at it. You had several text messages from MJ and Peter, all claiming that Quentin wasn't who he said he was. That he faked all the attacks just so he could become a hero in the public's eye. It couldn't be true, could it? After all he did for you? Your heart pounded and a knot formed in your stomach. You didn't know what to think.

The door flew open and in walked Quentin.

"Hey baby, didn't expect you to be up so early," he exclaimed with a smile as he leaned in to kiss you. "Last night was amazing Y/N. I really think we should-"

You cut him off by pushing him away. "Stay away from me!" You croaked, your voice shaking slightly.

"What's wrong, baby?" He questioned, frowning at you.

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that you lied to me!" You hissed at him. "You used me! You pretended to be a hero!" You backed away from him even more. "But you're not."

His eyes darkened and his persona changed entirely. This was not the Quentin you had quickly fallen for. This was someone completely different. Someone dangerous.

"Stop it right there," he threatened, his voice low and deadly.

"I can't believe I fell for you," you seethed. "I honestly thought you were someone I could love. But it was just a facade. It was fake. And everyone's going to know it."

You made a run for the door but Quentin was quicker. He grabbed you by the waist and threw you onto the bed. He pulled out handcuffs from god knows where and cuffed you to the bed frame.

"Let me go!" You snapped at him. "Or else you'll really regret it."

"Enough!" He bellowed at you. "Now listen to me, sweetheart." His voice sent chills down your spine.

"I'm not the only one with skeletons in my closet," he sneered at you, as he stood up. "I know you're secretly a SHIELD agent and that your mission for Fury is to look over Spider-Man, who just happens to be your student, Peter Parker."

You gasped. He knew. He knew everything about you. You felt your heart drop as you knew what was coming next.

"Shut up, Beck," you growled.

"And I know you were a double agent for SHIELD and Hydra until Captain America took them down for a second time."

"I said, shut up!"

Yeah, it was true. You were a double agent. But only because your boyfriend back then, Grant Ward, convinced you to join. But when you saw Hydra for what it was, you turned on them, confessed to Fury your involvement and you were able to help take them down.

"So unless you want your little secret to get out into the world and if you want to protect your precious Parker, I suggest you listen to me," he commanded. Feeling as if you didn't have a choice, you pressed your lips together and glared at Quentin.

"Everything I felt for you was real Y/N," he declared. "You're the one for me. You're my soulmate. And you're going to be with me forever darling. Whether you like it or not. You're going to be my partner and we're going to be the next big power couple."

"Please, don't do this," you begged him, tears prickling at your eyes.

"That's too bad honey," he said with a sinister grin. "Because from now on, you're mine, Y/N. You're. Mine."

#Quentin Beck #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck x you #quentin beck x y/n #quentin beck imagine #quentin beck one shot #mysterio #mysterio x reader #mysterio x you #mysterio x y/n #mysterio imagine #mysterio one shot #spidermanffh #spiderman ffh spoilers

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pippytmi · 5 years

Note

hey i'm the anon from earlier, who gushed about hmm&ms ! i'm just done reading hypothetically and ... you left me speechless ... you extraordinarily talented writer .. wow i have no words ... that was the cutest thing i've ever read ? how did you manage to make me even more in love with these two than i already am ?? that was sweet and funny and cute and original and beautiful and cute (have i mentionned cute yet?) and i Loved the pace ? everything was happening at the right time it was perfect

!!!! i’m so happy you got to read that one !!! lowkey it’s one of the fics i’m proudest about omg…THANK YOU SO MUCH 💕💖💕 i really enjoyed writing that fic & i obsesseddd over the pacing so i’m really fucking happy you liked it :,)

i just miss the universe of that fic so much…😭😭😭 press f to pay respects to the sequel that never was ://

also if you want a little snippet of these two being cute in their future here you go because i’m so emo about them:

“Hi,” she says, popping her earphones in. “What are you up to?”

“Just got off work, nothing special,” Lena says. She does look like she’s just gotten off work; Kara’s long since memorized that this means tired eyes, a smaller smile, but also a relaxed demeanor. “How’s the road trip to Las Vegas?”

“Long,” Kara says. She switches the camera around so Lena can see the others; Clark and Lois are still sitting together, and Bruce has joined Diana in her quest to find the perfect movie to watch on the small flatscreen. “Everyone’s pretty restless. I was sleeping,” she yawns, “but I’m over it by now.”

“That’s what you get for being famous,” Lena jokes. She shifts her camera so she can lay down on her bed, and the sight makes Kara’s heart ache for a morning to wake up beside her.

“The fine print’s not as great as you might think,” Kara says. “I may have to look into a change of career.”

“You could always become a soccer player. That would be a great career.”

“Enough with the soccer player junk, you’re going to give Alex a big head,” Kara feigns a groan.

“But my favorite thing is talking about your sister,” Lena says. “I’m only trying to cover my bases here, if she ends up being more famous than you someday.”

“Wow. That hurts,” Kara says, putting a hand over her heart for good measure. “And to think I missed you.”

“Already?” Lena’s teasing is so much softer this time around when she says, “I miss you too. It’s very inconvenient.”

“Oh really?”

“Jess has accused me of moping,” Lena says. “I’ve never been more offended in my life.”

“I’m sure Jess misses me, too,” Kara assures her. “I’ll bring her back a keychain.”

“For all she’s done for you? You’d better get her a mug at least.”

“Done,” Kara says. “What should I bring you?”

“It would be very cheesy to say you,” Lena says. Her phone falls out of her hands, camera tilting up to the dark ceiling. “So I’ll settle for a T-shirt.”

Kara laughs. “I’ll bring you back both,” she can’t resist teasing. “Since you miss me that much.”

“I liked you better when you weren’t so stuck-up,” Lena deadpans, but the camera shifts back so she’s in view and it looks like she’s smiling. It’s too dark in the room to tell, really. “How different is it from touring the country?”

“I mean, we’re still covering the last few stops in the U.S.,” Kara says. “But next week we get to go on an actual plane, which is exciting.”

“I don’t envy you. I hate flying,” Lena says. “Statistically I know it’s the safest way to travel, but still. I don’t do well with heights.”

“So does that mean you won’t fly out to our London show? It would fit your schedule,” Kara says. “Bruce has offered to send his private jet.”

“Thanks but no thanks, I’ll keep my feet on the ground.”

“Will you ever come to any of my shows?” Kara has to grow serious for a minute. “I’d really like for you to be there. You wouldn’t have to sit in the crowd, or anything. You could—you could just be backstage, and watch from a screen if you have to.”

Something about the question makes Lena sigh. “Shit,” she murmurs. “I’ve been a terrible girlfriend, haven’t I?”

“Of course not! No,” says Kara vehemently. “If you’re not comfortable being there—”

“It’s not that, Kara,” Lena says. “But…the world doesn’t see me like you do. I’m always going to be ‘Lena Luthor, the sister of that crazed Luthor guy.’ I’ve tried to lay low no matter what, and that means being a total shut-in all the time. I’m sorry.”

“If everyone could see how great you are they’d love you,” Kara says. “You know that, right?”

“You’re biased,” Lena reminds her lightly. “And you only say that because you like me.”

“You are a very likeable person,” Kara says. “You know, once you push the weird sex talk and bluntness aside. And everyone I know likes you too.”

“Your sister included?”

“Okay, now you’re just making this weird.”

#i never could get past the first 5k #but i miss these morons #anonymous #preguntas

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forged-through-trials · 3 years

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The following day, we hit up Mach-Na again, as she seemed to be a great source of info about Cheydinhal. Irritable, sure, but informative. Mach-Na: "Are you actually going to buy something, today?" Trials: "No, no... we're just curious about what the words is around town." Mach-Na: "Ugh... I need to start charging for gossip! "Well, have you heard of Rythe Lythandas?" Trials: "'Right Left-Hand-Us'?" Mach-Na: "...close enough. "He's possibly the greatest painter in all of Cyrodiil." Trials: "When I get a house, I'll be sure to give him a call." Mach-Na: "...no, not that kind of painter. He does landscapes. "Sadly, he's gone missing. His wife, Tivela, is beside herself with grief." Trials: "I'd ask why the town guard aren't looking for him, but after my last job, I know exactly why they haven't. Chances are Ulrich never thought to fine people for going missing." Mach-Na gave us some directions, so we legged it over toward the Lythandas home. It was decidedly large and posh, as one might expect from a career-artist. The door was unlocked, so Ruin and I let ourselves in, announcing our entrance to the lady of the house. Trials: "Greetings. I'm Forged-Through-Trials, and this is my associate, Ruined-Tail." Ruin: "Greetings, madam." Tivela: "...well, apologies, strangers-who-barged-into-my-home, but may I ask you a favor? "It seems my husband, Rythe, has gone missing, and I just don't know what to do." Ruin: "I... question the reasoning of asking two strangers who waltz into your home uninvited for help in this matter." Trials: "Well, who else is she gonna ask? The town-guard who will fine her for disturbing their nap?" Ruin: "...point taken." Trials: "Anyway, Ms. Tea-f'er-ya Lift-And-Bust--" Tivela: "...close enough." Trials: "--we actually stopped by because we'd heard he was missing. I'm something of a traveling mystery-solver, and happy to put my skills to the case!" Tivela: "I thank you for your kind offer, madam. "Yes, Rythe likes to work in his studio with the door locked, so no one can disturb him. He usually comes out to eat dinner and sleep, but two days ago, he didn't come out at all. When he hadn't left his studio for a whole day, I used to key he gave me for emergencies to open the door... and he was completely gone! "I'm sure he never left that room. So I have no idea where he's gone. Please, help me find Rythe. I love him dearly, and I am so worried!" Trials: "Oooh, a Locked Door Mystery. Never had one of those, before. "But worry not, ma'am. I'm on the case!" Tivela offered me the key to Rythe's studio, bidding that I hurry to find her husband. Accepting the key, I turned toward the studio, unlatching the door and stepping inside.

Huh, so this is where the "magic" happens? Where Rythe does all of his work that has made him famous across Cyrodiil? Seems a little cramped, to me, but those paintings leaning against the wall spoke to his talent and ability. The narrow setting sure didn't hamper him any. I took a little look around. Nothing jumped out at me right away as being any kind of evidence. There were just a bunch of art supplies laying around, and not even so much as a sign of a struggle. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something. I looked to find that painting sitting on the easel. Ruin was occupied consoling Tivela, so I stepped into the room to investigate, and thought that I had seen the face of that painting ripple as if it were the surface of a pond. I stepped up, and drew even closer still, reaching a hand out to touch the face of that painting, and...

Well, let's a-go! After the strange, white void, my eyes cleared to reveal a foresty meadow. Though something was very... off about this place. From the way the ground felt, to the look of the rocks, the trees, the leaves... leaves? Those aren't even leaves! They're painted on! Where the heck was I? This place was like something out of one of my Akaviri Picture-Books! It was about then that I noticed I was alone. Ruin hadn't followed me in. Maybe he hadn't seen me get sucked into the painting, and was right now wondering what had become of me. I wasn't alone for long, though. As I was still trying to acclimate to the bizarre landscape, a fairly dressed Dark Elf approached me.

Rythe: "Where did you come from? You look real enough. You must be from the outside! Oh, thank goodness someone finally came!" Trials: "Whoa, are you Ripe Lasagna?" Rythe: "...close enough. "While I'm overjoyed to see a friendly face, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you." Trials: "Salmo the Baker is discontinuing his famous Sweet Rolls?" Rythe: "...okay, maybe not that bad. "No, we're stuck here. Sorry to break it to you like that, but if it wasn't for that annoying thief, we wouldn't be in this predicament!" Trials: "IDidn'tDoEet!" Rythe: "What? No, not you! It was a different thief. "I was in my studio, when a Bosmer wearing dark clothing accosted me. Before I could call for help, he knocked me unconscious." Trials: "Very rude of him." Rythe: "How do you think I feel? "When I came to, I found that the door to my studio was still locked, and that the thief had snatched my paintbrush. That's when I saw it." Trials: "You mean the void of white with the hollow star-shape in it?" Rythe: "No, that came later. What I saw was something on the canvas of my painting that I hadn't put there. It looked somewhat like a troll, but it was badly done. Then it hit me!" Trials: "The Bosmer again?" Rythe: "No, it was the realization that the Bosmer must have leapt into the painting, then painted guardians inside to protect himself using the Brush of Truepaint!" Trials: "Whoa, slowdown. What the heck is the 'Brush of Truepaint'?" Rythe: "I knew the secret of my success would be revealed one day. I can tell you all about the Brush, if you like." Rythe regaled me with the tale; in the war of 3E 396, his father was a soldier who was injured when an errant fireball exploded near him, costing him the use of both arms. A painter before being conscripted into the war, it seemed his career was over. But he prayed night and day to the Divine Dibella for some way to express his artistic side once more. And I guess because Dibella is not the goddess of growing new arms, instead she gave him a paintbrush woven from her own hair. The magic of the Brush allows the painter to step inside of a canvas to paint objects to life size. Though 'paint' is not quite accurate, since all the user has to do is think about what they want, and it will appear. The Brush of Truepaint was then passed down to Rythe from his father, and is the source of Rythe's talent and fame. Trials: Deadpan. "Oh. So you're a phony." Rythe: "...I mean, yes, but you shouldn't say it like that." Trials: "Oh well. Truth be told, I've been all Fake It 'Til I Make It since I first arrived in Cyrodiil." Rythe: "...faking it?" Trials: "Oh, yes. I'm an alcoholic ex-slave who gets by mostly by the fact that I'm harder to kill than I look. I honestly can't believe people keep giving me jobs. Or that I keep pulling wins outta my butt." Rythe: His face paled. "Oooohh that doesn't inspire confidence." Trials: "About as much confidence as I have in your art-skills." Rythe: "Right. Any port in a storm, eh? "We need to get the Brush back, which means you're going to have to get past the thief's Painted Trolls. I cannot do it. I am not a warrior." Trials: "What about the thief himself? Anything I need to worry about with him?" Rythe: "Thankfully, that problem solved itself. I heard him scream not long after I arrived. The trolls that the thief painted seemed to have turned on their creator and killed him. He didn't know the Brush had its risks." Trials: "Well, sucks to be him." Rythe: "The creatures now roam loose all over the forest and in the clearing where I was still working. The Brush is on the body of the Bosmer Thief, there. "Here, take these bottles of turpentine. They may help." Trials: "...unless we're making gut-rotting moonshine, I don't see how. But thanks, I guess."

On second thought, everything here is made of paint, right? So maybe this turpentine could be useful after all! I could... pour some on the rocks to melt them... nah, no, what would I do with melted rocks? I guess the best alternative would be to pour this stuff on my weapons to give them a little extra bite against the trolls.

I dipped my arrows in the turpentine, and upon spotting one of the trolls, let the poisoned arrow fly. It worked like a charm, and the Troll went down in one shot. Guess I owe Rythe an apology. The rest of the trolls went down in similar fashion. That turpentine went a long, long way... meaning it would probably make some really powerful moonshine if I can save any.

A hop and skip through the painted forest later, and I'd found the 'clearing' Rythe spoke of. It wasn't so much a 'clearing' as it was a space that looked unfinished. It was quite strange to look at, and even stranger to walk on. The texture of the place was not unlike one might imagine from a canvas. Once the last Troll was downed, I was able to advance onto the corpse of the Wood Elf thief. It only took a little bit of rifling through his pockets to retrieve the Brush. I took a minute to admire it; it looked so much like an ordinary paintbrush, but it apparently was some kind of amazing, enchanted Aedric Artifact. What're the odds that I would run into something like this? Well, now to get it back to Rythe. A short walk through the painted forest later, and I'd returned, Brush in hand, and quickly handed it off to the artist. Rythe: "You have the Brush? Excellent work, my friend." Trials: "Told ya I'd pull a win outta muh butt!" Rythe: "Certainly glad your bottom had at least one last 'win' to give. Now, I will paint the portal back home. Once it appears, you should go through first. Or you might be stuck in here forever." Trials: "Wait, before ya do, can you... paint me a meat-pie?" Rythe: "I can, but it would taste like paint." Trials: "Aww, lame!"

Rythe took the Brush and stepped a few paces away, drawing both the Brush and a pallet... for some reason. He already told me he doesn't actually need to wave the Brush around to make it work. I think he just felt like showing off. Whatever the case, after a few moments of waving the brush at empty air like a showy moppet, a window appeared, floating in the air. It looked like a painting of Rythe's studio. Once done, Rythe stepped to one side, and allowed me to pass first, and I quickly did so. I emerged from the painting back into Rythe's studio, right in front of a very shocked Ruined-Tail. Ruin: "Trials! Where have you been? I turned my back for one minute and you just vanished!" Trials: I grinned with cheek. "What're you talking about, Ruin? I never left this room!" Ruin: "..." He rolled his eyes. "You've got a weird story to tell me, don't you? Or you've been drinking again. Wait, that's it; you snuck off to drink didn't you?" Trials: I pouted. "Ruin! I'd never do that while on the job!"

Before I could explain myself to Ruin, Rythe rushed forward to meet his wife, the happy couple holding a just as happy reunion. Tivela: "Rythe! Oh, my love! You are home safe... I was so afraid." Rythe: "If it wasn't for my friend, here, you'd be right." Tivela: "This is wonderful! Now we won't miss my mother's birthday." Rythe: Deadpan. "Oh... goodie." He tried to force a smile, and turned to me. "Well, my mother-in-law not withstanding, I don't know how to thank you. You have a good heart to help get me back home. I'll never forget what you've done for me." Trials: "Hey, no problemo, my dude." Rythe: "If I may ask one last favor; please keep the Brush's existence a secret. If word gets around that I have it, I'm afraid more than a lone cut-purse will visit me." Trials: "Sure, my lips are sealed. Barring some extreme situation, like, say, if I find myself in a predicament where I desperately need an Aedric Artifact to help save the world, or something." Rythe and I shared a hearty laugh at that quip. Surely, nothing like that could ever possibly happen to little ol' me, after all!

Rythe gave me an apron as a token of his appreciation. Not the flashiest of gifts, but a fine reminder of my contribution to the arts. Also it's enchanted and thus, very valuable, so that's pretty nice! And thus I closed another case. The missing artist has been returned safely to his home and his loving wife, and Cheydinhal is richer for the adventure. I've probably tapped all of the info I can get out of Mach-Na, but I'd say chances are good the Fighters and Mages Guilds might have some work for me. And once those are out of the way, I still have the Thieves Guild job, and the Castle Vault, to hit, before I blow this town and hit the road once more.

#the elder scrolls #oblivion #modded #let's play #roleplay #ask blog

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