#my poor laptop... a moment of silence for it and its fans that sounded like a jet engine.

[vizziefizzie]

Silver in the Dragon's Den!

(This was made in blender!! I was practicing with texture paint, the grease pencil, and compositing!)

[soap-lady]

Here you go

@fantasiame, @g-arya, @lavenderjunes, @charlietheepic7, @ahenix, @delectablycoolscientist, @kaseykay17, @vio-march-0327, @mewwitch, @vixen-uchiha, @coolspidermanmusicflower, @lady-bee-fechin, @raeuberprinzessin, @symwinter, @frieddonutsweets, @seraphkitty, @friendsofthefairies, @nickristus-dreamer, @khneltea, @jumpingjoy82, @fan-written,  @woe-is-me0,@corporeal-terrestrial, @queenmjean, @theymakeupfairies, @dorkus-minimus, @idk-j-go-with-it, @aespades, @swiftie-miraculer13

Worthy Opponent Chapter 24

Felicity looked over at Barry’s plate, doing nothing to hide her disgust. “I can’t believe you’re going to eat such disgusting garbage. How can you even move after that? British cuisine was clearly based on a dare.”

“Nonsense, my dear Flick,” he responded as he sliced up his black pudding while looking her straight in the eye, “a brain such as mine needs fuel for the long haul, not some carbohydrate nightmare that wouldn’t leave a bird alive. And you have no right to criticize my country’s food when you’ve been known to eat snails. ” He smirked at her “continental breakfast” and she scowled at him.

“Jokes on you, Barrington. The average bird can eat twice its own weight.” She looked at Elinor for support but she was too busy feeding bits of baguette covered in Nutella to Seabert. She muttered under her breath, “If Jayden were here he’d back me up.”

“Nah, Jayden is still carrying on a torrid love affair with his laptop,” Jack plunked down his plate beside Felicity’s and across from Barry. “They’ll make beautiful apps together.”

Felicity paused her argument with Holmes to look at Watson’s plate. What she saw shocked her. “Jack, darling…what the hell is that?”

“This?” Jack pointed proudly at the jumble of eggs, bacon, potatoes and cheese on his plate. “In America, we call this a ‘breakfast skillet’. It has all the protein and carbs I need. Plus cheese.”

“So…Americans disguise their horrible food with cheese?” Felicity asked. She could almost imagine poor Jack’s arteries hardening. She made a mental note to offer a cup of fruit and perhaps some Scottish oats the next day.

Barry just shook his head. His poor Watson, forced to eat something so revolting for eight years. He’d teach his partner about good hearty English food once he had the chance.

What they were thinking must have shown on their face because Jack glared at both of them. “Hey. Eat my ass.”

“Buy me dinner first!” Felicity retorted before Barry could open his mouth.

Anything Watson might have said in reply was interrupted by the intercom system.

The Headmaster’s voice was heard. Holmes noted he sounded tired and stressed. His words were clipped and his delivery was wooden. “Attention, faculty and students. At this time I would like for all of you to make your way to the assembly hall. No dawdling. Anyone caught skiving off will be disciplined, no exceptions. That is all.”

The speaker cut off and the trio stared at each other then around the room. All of the other students were dutifully putting down their utensils and making their way to the assembly hall. Felicity all but dragged Jack to his feet and hauled him away towards the exit. All Barry could do was follow silently as he contemplated the changes in their group dynamic.

He decided he didn’t like it.

                                               *****

The Headmaster stood on stage and waited until all the Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds and Spades grouped themselves according to their class (Spades near the front, naturally) and took their seats. They whispered among themselves until he approached the podium and gently tapped the microphone.

Everyone quieted down and once there was silence he spoke.

“It seems as if both a year and a mere moment has passed since I last stood here and told you all of the sad death of our beloved Professor Akunin.”

He allowed everyone to murmur “Rest In Peace” or something similar before continuing.

“And as you may remember, in a few weeks we were slated to have our annual Founders’ Ball, where we celebrate the coming together of the greatest detectives the world has ever known.”

There was more murmuring a bit of applause. He waited again.

“Thus, it is my sorrowful duty to announce that I am recommending to the Board that the Ball be canceled this year.”

The Headmaster was no doubt expecting applause and polite agreement. He would be disappointed.

There were some relieved sighs and some surprised gasps but most of the crowd seemed displeased.

“That’s not fair!”

“I already bought my dress!”

“The professor would want us to carry on.”

“Oui!”

The students were very quickly turning against the Headmaster and a few professors approached the podium, intent on speaking with him.

Judging by their body language the Headmaster had neglected to discuss his decision with the rest of the staff. Dissent among the professors would spread to the students and then they’d have a riot to quell. Or worse, mass detentions. This wouldn’t do.

Well, Barry was a Spade. More than that, he was a direct descendant of Sherlock Holmes and if their student body had a leader, surely it was him. He opened his mouth to speak up.

Felicity beat him to it. She left her seat and made her way to the stage.

The Headmaster seemed too surprised to chastise her. “Have you something to say on the matter, Miss Dupin?”

She nodded. “Forgive the interruption, but I do. Is it alright if I approach the podium?”

Jack’s eyebrows rose and he looked at Barry. He knew “Filly” had a high class education and probably an etiquette tutor but he’d never heard her sound so formal and posh.  It made him feel a little unpolished and grubby in comparison.

Holmes stared right back then up at Dupin. Felicity looked…he believed the Americans used the term “badass”. Her posture was ladylike and respectful, yet not to be ignored. It was…rather attractive if he were being honest.

The Headmaster  nodded and she walked up to him. She had her hands clasped together, the only sign Barry could find that she was nervous at all. Felicity began to speak into the mic.

“With all due respect to you, sir, and with the greatest respect to Professor Akunin, I, as a Legacy student, refuse to be scared off by some nameless faceless…criminal,” Barry could tell she had wanted to use a stronger word, “I want the ball to be held as scheduled. I’m not about to allow my ancestor to be dishonored either.”

There was a buzz of approval among the students and maybe even a professor or two. Barry couldn’t help a small grin of endorsement. The ball had to go on for their plan to lure out the murderer or murderers to work. He was sure they wouldn’t be able to resist sneaking on campus; the school always hired additional help to prepare for the ball and he and his friends were laying a trap. Jayden would no doubt have his extra surveillance prepared to catch them or just gather evidence. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being bait but neither could he ask one of his friends to do it.

There was some applause and cheers of support before the Headmaster broke in. “I can’t allow my students to expose themselves to danger!” he protested. He looked at Felicity, who was doing her best to look brave and stoic. “Miss Dupin, it would grieve me if anything were to happen to one of our Legacy students such as yourself of course, but I feel the same way about all the students who attend here.” He indicated the entire student body with a sweep of his arm. “All of them are important and precious to me and it is my duty to protect you. How could I look any of your parents in the face and tell them that one of you was harmed?”

The man looked genuinely worried and sad, no doubt thinking about his failure to protect one of his staff. Barry felt a stab of pity for the man, even though his caution, even for the best of reasons, was screwing up their plan. He opened his mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted for the second time in ten minutes.

A young girl with waist-length chestnut hair glided her way up the stage and near the podium. She pointed at the microphone and Felicity looked at her, shrugged, then stepped back. Holmes blinked once or twice, then focused on the new speaker.

Irene Adler.

“I think Felicity has a good point, Headmaster,” the girl smiled at Dupin, who tried not to look shocked at her surprise ally. Adler also smiled at the headmaster. “But you also make a good point about protecting the students and how parents would react. So, what about a vote?”

The room buzzed again as everyone began whispering, asking each other what Irene could possibly mean by a “vote”. Barry felt his esteem for the girl rise slightly.

Irene went on to explain. “Everyone here has a school email address, right? Even if they prefer to use their own personal one.” She turned to the Headmaster, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. “There are all sorts of websites that make polls. You could set up a poll where everyone could vote whether or not they wanted a ball or not. Then you could send a link to everyone’s school email address and everyone could vote anonymously. No hard feelings.”

There were some mutterings of agreement and excitement but Barry could tell not everyone was convinced. He was sure he could do something to rally the undecided and racked his brains for an idea.

“That’s…rather brilliant, Miss Adler,” The Headmaster praised Irene. “Better yet, it’s completely fair. Attendance will not be mandatory for anyone!” He addressed the crowd and there were a few cheers.

“Say, Watson,” Holmes began but the other boy was up on his feet and dashing up to the stage.

Jack grabbed the microphone before anyone could stop him. “Hey, I’m Jack Watson if you haven’t met me yet. How’s it going? Anyway, maybe the school could arrange a field trip to a concert or a theme park for any and all students who don’t want to go to the big ball.” The stage lights were bright but Jack could see a few heads nodding along with his idea. “That way, everyone gets to do some fun sh…stuff,” he amended and there was a louder round of applause for Watson.

The Headmaster looked a bit ruffled that the problem was getting solved without his approval or input but most of the student body seemed to agree with the ideas the teenagers had put forward and he really didn’t want to offend three Legacy students, two of which were children of the founding families. He sighed and gave up.

“Very well. We shall do as you three have suggested.” He addressed the crowd with all the authority of a man trying to pretend they were all his ideas. “We shall continue with the ball if a majority of the students vote for it and anyone who does not can sign up anonymously for a field trip to be determined later.” He accepted the mic back from Watson and placed it back in its stand. “Due to all this excitement and the disruption to the usual schedule, morning classes are canceled. You may all go back to the cafeteria where the staff will be pleased to serve fresh meals to anyone who hasn't had a chance to eat. After that, you may consider the rest of your morning as a free study period. Afternoon classes will continue as scheduled after lunch. Dismissed.”

He and the professors left the stage, no doubt to tell the cafeteria staff they were now pulling double duty. The students milled about as they talked excitedly among themselves and slowly made their way to the cafeteria or their dorms.

Barry sat in his seat and watched Jack and Felicity walking together, hopefully towards him.  He caught Irene staring at them and then back at him. He swore the look on her face was pity. “Well, I suppose no one needs me around, do they?” he muttered to himself. He sighed and pulled himself to his feet. No more sulking for him. He had a plan to put together.

                                               *****

“Cut!” Amelie called out. The crew clapped around her. “All in one take! My darlings, you’re brilliant. Victor, you’re a star!”

“Well I do my best,” Victor bowed and made his way to his dressing room.

“Well done, Lila,” Amelie smiled at her and the girl found herself blushing involuntarily. She loved praise, almost more than she loved attention. Especially sincere praise. Plus, there was something about the way Amelie smiled at her that made her want to do a good job, not just climb the social ladder.

“Thank you so much, Amelie,” Lila smiled and for once since she’d known the girl, it wasn’t artificial and self-serving, but surprised and pleased. “I’m starting to really get inside Irene’s head. She’s so much more complex than I realized.”

Amelie smiled again, feeling ever so slightly guilty for the first time. Lila had done something to Allen the other children refused to discuss fully and thus they’d insisted she keep making Lila’s part smaller. Now she wondered if she should give the young woman another chance. Perhaps if she continued to do well they could find a larger part for her on the next Graham Films production.

Ah, there was nothing more thrilling to Amelie than developing new talent.

Gio came up behind Lila and ran a hand over her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Didn’t I tell you?” he whispered, “all you have to do is show everyone what you’re truly capable of. Now everyone can see how talented you are.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I should always listen to you. You give the best advice.”

For a moment she allowed herself to dream of fame and fortune again. Accolades she’d earned honestly. Recognition that didn’t depend on claiming to know celebrities and snagging a trophy boyfriend. Her fame as a model depended on staying in Gabriel Agreste’s good graces and he could take everything back any time he wished. If she’d earned her way with hard work and talent, no one could take that from her. Not unless she well and truly screwed up.  Once she was rich and famous enough she’d hire a financial advisor to help her invest in funds and then she could live off the interest if she were careful.

Amelie clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and Lila pulled herself out of her daydreams. “Exciting news, everyone! Mrs. Jennings and our own little Marinette have completed the costumes for the ball and are ready for fittings. I’m going to ask the ladies of the principal cast to follow either Mrs. Jennings or Marinette to the Wardrobe Department. Adults with Mrs. Jennings and younger ladies with Marinette. Chloe will be there to take pictures so keep your makeup camera ready.”

“No nudes,” Chloe assured everyone. Yeah, she could be a bitch but not when someone was at their most vulnerable physically. Well, not anymore.

“Boo!” yelled one of the male extras.

“Boo!” chorused one of the female extras.

Amelie gave them both a look of disappointment, somehow picking them both out of the crowd. “Really, this isn’t that kind of production. Dignity and consent at all times.”

She waited until the room was calm again and continued. “Step lively, ladies. Gentlemen, we’ll be dividing into two groups. Group A will shoot a scene with most of the Spades and the Headmaster about their findings on the case so far. Group B will be secondary characters like Marlowe and Charles IV discussing what the ball could mean for the investigation and whether it will draw out the killer or just get everyone in one place to be slaughtered. Off you pop.”

The men and boys grumbled good naturedly but none the less went off to prepare the next scene. Lila was about to follow them when she was stopped by Amelie.

“Aren’t you going to attend your fitting, dear?” the woman asked.

“But I thought I was just…” Lila stopped and Amelie watched as comprehension settled over the girl’s face. “Oh!” She reacted with genuine surprise. She was being included with the main cast? Not some rented gown or something from stores but a dress designed specifically for her?

She danced a little in place before remembering Marinette had designed her gown. Someone who saw through her and hated her. Someone who could do anything she wanted and not have to face the consequences. She had power over her and Lila hated it. It was quite the role reversal than their old college dynamic.

She forced herself to relax and smile at Amelie. “On my way! Thank you!” She turned away and practically raced after the other girls on her way to the Wardrobe Department. Marinette wouldn’t do anything to her. She was a coward and would never risk looking bad to Amelie. She had nothing to worry about.

Amelie chuckled to herself once everyone was out of earshot. Yes, Miss Rossi was worth watching.

                                                  *****

“Marinette! I love it!” Mylene twirled around the room in her ball dress. “I was afraid it would be too formal and hard to dance  in but it’s so flowy and easy to move in. It’s just my style!” She rubbed the material between her fingers. “It feels like silk.”

Marinette smiled and nodded at her friend. “I didn’t think Victorian fashion would suit you but bohemian chic would.” She laughed. “Well, boho chic with hints of haute couture. I was inspired by your braids and went with a rainbow dip-dyed material. Sustainable cotton sateen, which is vegan of course. It’s a great alternative to synthetics. ”

Mylene nearly cried and hugged her friend for her thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect,” she let her go and stepped away. “I should probably take it off before I ruin it.”

“Not quite yet. I want to adjust the hemline. It’s a little too long and I don’t want you to have to wear heels if you don’t want to.”

Mylene looked thoughtfully at her reflection. “I was thinking this dress would look cute in matching low-heeled sandals.”

Marinette blinked and adjusted her thinking. “That could work. Do you mind standing on the platform, please?”

Her friend did as asked and Marinette marked the hemline accordingly and began to pin it up. “Is this too high, do you think?”

Mylene looked at her reflection. “A little. Would a centimeter lower be alright?”

The designer made the adjustment. “Right here?”

“I think so.”

She readjusted her pins and together they looked at Mylene’s reflection. “You know what, Mademoiselle Actress? I think it’s perfect.”

“I think so too.”

Mylene let Marinette help her off the dressmaker’s platform and looked over to where Chloe was quietly taking pictures.

The blonde lowered her camera and looked at them. “I got all the shots I needed. Mylene can change now.”

��Thank you, Chloe,” Marinette had decided she’d be professional as long as Chloe was and so far it was proving to be the right decision. “I can’t wait to see the finished book.”

Mylene straightened her back and surprised everyone by giving her former bully a small but confident smile. “Marinette’s designs are so good. You should probably commission her to make you a dress for the premiere while she’s still available.”

Chloe didn’t say anything at first but managed half a toothless smile. “Maybe.” She pretended not to see the other girls staring at her wide-eyed. “I need a new memory card. I’m going to go grab one real quick before you let Rossi in here.”

                                                        *****

Lila approached the Wardrobe Department with more than a little nervousness. She tried to tell herself it was just Marinette but that thought didn’t reassure her like it used to.  Despite her best efforts at manipulating the situation (or straight-up attempted second degree murder), Lila was still a nobody. It galled her that everyone thought Marinette was so wonderful and sweet. But unlike school, Lila’s usual tricks didn’t work on actual rich and famous teens with connections of their own. They didn’t even work on Adrien now that he was dating The Ice Queen.

They’d never worked on Felix. Even if she hadn’t alienated his friends, he was smarter and more perceptive than his cousin. Damn him. Now she had to be very careful because she was sure he suspected her involvement in Marinette’s near deaths. Oh, and his but he was just collateral damage. Her main target had been Marinette.

She carefully assumed a tranquil demeanor, took a deep breath, and opened the door to the Wardrobe Department with a wide smile.

Inside she found organized chaos as interns rushed from dressing room to dressing room with heaps of garment bags, tape measures, and various sewing tools she didn’t recognize. She felt horribly lost and out of place, a feeling she hated, until a young woman who introduced herself as Sophie led her to a room.

Sophie opened the door for her and ushered her inside. Lila smiled in thanks and Sophie gave her a weird half-smile before leaving and closing the door behind her. Great. Now the crew didn’t like or trust  her either. She didn’t actually care about them but she made a mental note to be even more careful what she said or did on set. She wasn’t famous yet and couldn’t risk rumors of bad behavior. Only stars got to act like divas without reproach.

To her surprise the person waiting for her wasn’t some intern or even one of Sra. Jennings’ assistants but Marinette herself. She forced herself not to smirk but having the girl who had somehow stolen everything she wanted waiting on her was hilarious.

“Marinette!” she chirped. “It’s so good to see you! I’m so happy you designed a dress for me! I can’t wait to see it!”

The other smiled and Lila was surprised to see she didn’t look upset to see her like she expected. It could be because of Marinette’s newly acquired acting skills or she was just more comfortable when designing. Lila couldn’t wait to see the gown so she could make Marinette look mean and petty by complaining about how unflattering the dress was. She wouldn't put it past the little wannabe to design something hideous and expect Lila to wear it.

Marinette just continued to smile, looking calm and professional. “I hope you like it, Lila. I designed it not just for your character , but with you in mind as well.”

Lila blinked, temporarily at a loss for words. She had expected Marinette would have designed something for her character. It was, quite literally, her job. But to hear that she’d also taken Lila herself into account when designing? It made her feel…almost warm.

Someone cleared their throat and Lila turned her head away from Marinette and towards the sound.

Sitting with her legs crossed and a camera on her lap was Chloe Bourgeois. Joy. Another person with too much influence and far too much money. Someone who also hated her guts and would cheerfully have her shot into the sun. Or just…deported.

“Oh, Chloe!” She pretended to be surprised. “Still taking pictures for the making -of book? How wonderful for you!”

The blonde looked at her from under her lashes with a “duh” look on her face. Lila continued to smile, because she was sure it would piss the other girl off.

“Um…anyway…” Marinette walked over to a rack containing a single garment bag. (She had insisted that every dress for the Founders’ Ball scene be stored separately and under lock and key. She told Mme. Jennings it was to prevent leaks to the press but it was really to prevent sabotage.) “It’s time to have your dress fitted.”

She unzipped the bag and gently pulled out the dress. Lila clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping. She was all ready to act offended and Marinette had unknowingly thwarted her.

The dress was a beautiful dark green that shimmered under the fluorescent lights. It was long with a full skirt and cinched waist. It had a high winged collar, long sleeves,  and a v-neck that would show off her collar bone without being too revealing. She studied her reflection in the full length 360 degree mirror.  It was absolutely gorgeous, but…

Lila pouted and tried to make herself look pitiful. “It’s…not orange.”

Chloe huffed and muttered something about someone being ungrateful under her breath.

Marinette just smiled. “The dress is made from Georgette silk from a cruelty-free company. I know your favorite color is orange but I thought the color would enhance your hair and skin tone. Not to mention making your eyes pop.” Her smile seemed genuinely encouraging and not mocking at all.

She held out the dress to Lila. “Just try it on first before you decide. Some clothes look different on the hanger than they will on a person.”

Lila dearly wanted to say no but something made her nod. It did look like a pretty dress and she’d never worn Georgette silk before. The material alone must have cost a fortune and that by itself made her want to try it on.

She gingerly took the dress from Marinette, who hadn’t lost her smile as she pointed towards another door. “There’s a private changing room right there. Don’t worry, no one will watch you change.”

“Not even Chloe?” Lila asked and tried to sound timid.

“Don’t insult me,” Chloe’s reply was lazy, like she didn’t care. Marinette gave Lila a thumbs up and Lila turned on her heel to get changed.

It was time to see if Marinette was even one-quarter of the designer she made herself out to be.

                                                      *****

She had once prided herself on her ability to read people. It was important to know how to manipulate them once she knew what they wanted, feared, or loved. Marinette had been mostly easy to figure out. She had a strong sense of justice bordering on self-righteousness, was in love with Adrien Agreste and wanted to be a designer like Gabriel Agreste.

Well, she was still self-righteous, had given up on Adrien and Gabriel was a fool for not offering this girl an internship.

Marinette had been right, the dress was perfect for her.

The color made her skin glow and brought out the auburn highlights in her hair. Her olive eyes did indeed pop. The sleeves were too long and the waist didn’t suit her but damn if she wouldn’t ask to take this dress home with her once production was over.

Damn, she couldn’t believe that Marinette Dupain-Cheng of all people was going to humble her into saying the other girl was right.

“Lila? Are you alright? Come on out. I want to check the fit.”

She looked into the mirror one more time and did a twirl for herself. The skirt swirled around her legs nicely. “Coming!”

Lila knew she must look good by the way Chloe’s eyes widened and Marinette clasped her hands together with glee. “You look great!”

Chloe remembered why she was there and began to take pictures. “The dark color really suits a mysterious character like Adler is supposed to be.”

“And the design is sophisticated, like Adler, but still age appropriate. I also chose a material shot with gold thread. It’ll catch the light as you dance.” Marinette noted, even if she seemed surprised Chloe had said anything positive.

Marinette turned her back to Chloe and began asking Lila questions. “How does the fabric feel? Too heavy? Is the hem too long? I adjusted it because your character would probably wear at least low heels to the ball. Is there anything else you’d like to alter?”

Lila was taken aback, not just by the rapid fire questions but the fact she was receiving any positive attention from people she knew hated her. “Um…” she thought for a moment and surprised herself by being honest. “The sleeves are too long. Could I have them cut back to my elbows?”

“Three-quarters instead of full sleeves. Got it.” Marinette made a note on her phone and looked back at Lila expectantly.

Lila pulled at the waist. “Could you take-in the waist? It seems a little loose. I’d really like the dress to enhance my figure a little more. If you don’t mind!” She added hastily. She looked down and tried to appear pitiful to needle the girl. Old habits die hard.

Marinette didn’t take the bait and Chloe didn’t comment. The designer grabbed a few pins from something on her wrist and made adjustments. “How is it now?”

“Yes. It’s a better fit without being too tight.” Lila was impressed; Marinette hadn’t even tried to poke her. “But…it needs something.”

Chloe frowned as she continued to snap photos but Marinette’s brow furrowed in thought. Suddenly she brightened. “A belt! A belt made from cork and then covered with the same material the dress is made from!” The designer’s eyes almost glowed as she thought up ideas. She shook her head and focused on Lila. “Maybe the belt buckle could be covered in crystals…and a matching necklace, maybe some earrings.” She looked at Lila. “Is all that okay with you? I was thinking you could wear your hair up and we could put in some crystal hair accessories. I’m thinking of stars or flowers.”

“Um…flowers,” Lila decided. Requesting stars might make her look egotistical and she didn’t think that was a good idea.

Marinette just made another note in her phone. “That’s it for now. Just take the dress off carefully and hang it up. I’ll get started on the changes in the next few days.”

Lila didn’t go anywhere at first. Instead, she continued to stare at Marinette. Even Chloe stopped taking pictures for a few minutes.

Marinette blinked at the other girl. “Is something wrong? Was there something else you wanted to change?”

“Um,” Lila stammered, and not for effect, “I…I thought you didn’t like me.”

The designer blinked, looking surprised. “Why should that matter right now?” Lila reared back in surprise and waited for the girl to continue.

Chloe put the camera in her lap and flexed her fingers. This could be interesting.

Marinette sighed then took a deep breath to steady herself. “Look, Lila. We’ll probably never be friends.” Because I think you’ve tried to kill me twice. Oh, and there was all that crap you did to me last year. “But I’m a professional. I would never do less than my best for anyone, no matter what our personal relationship might be.”

“Aunt Amelie says a true professional never mixes personal vendettas with work,” Chloe put in.

The other two girls ignored her and Marinette continued.

“Besides, I think acting is a good career path for you,” she almost smiled at Lila, shocking her. “You have some natural charisma, something every actor needs, and to be honest, your acting has improved as production’s gone on.”

Lila blushed despite herself at the praise. Victor and Gio had been giving her acting lessons with some occasional input by Anna. Even Felix would nod in approval after one of her scenes. Now to have the girl she hated praising her? It was amazing and warmed her more than she ever thought it could. It must have killed Marinette to admit Lila was actually good at something, so her good opinion meant more to Lila than anyone else’s.

Lila fiddled with one of her hair ties, an old habit from when she was nervous as a little girl. “Well…I mean, a model’s career can be measured in months, whereas a good actress can work for decades. Like Meryl Streep.”

Chloe snorted. “Uh, please. Don’t compare yourself to her. Slow your roll, Rossi.”

Marinette didn’t comment on what the blonde said but smiled at Lila. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with having a goal or someone you want to emulate.” She chuckled. “And you could definitely do worse than an actress who’s won multiple awards.”

Lila herself would rather compare herself to Catherine Deneuve or Ornella Muti. But the American Actress would do. She refused to admit to herself that she panicked when trying to think of an actress with a long and respected career.

She allowed herself to dream of a better life, one she’d earned and deserved. Something she’d built on her own and couldn’t be taken away from her on Gabriel Agreste’s whim. She didn’t want any of these people’s friendship (except maybe Gio) but she would gladly accept their respect.

It was kind of funny,  she thought later as she was changing, all I had to do was use my natural skills for good and even Marinette Dupain-Cheng would praise me.

Yes…with time and a little work, not to mention a future designer to make her look good, she could finally have it all.

                                                              *****

“Claude? Aren’t you going to come out and show us?”

“Give me a minute, Mari-dear. I’ve never tied a cravat before. This is why men used to have valets to help them dress.”

Claude slid the curtain open and walked out. Only Marinette and Chloe were there as promised. Ostensibly this was to keep the costumes from being leaked online but also Claude was surprisingly shy when it came to trying new things.

“Okay, Claude, so how does it…fit?”

Marinette broke off and stared at Claude. Chloe nearly fumbled her camera but was able to regain her composure before her friend or…Marinette saw that she’d lost it. She started snapping photos as Claude stared at his reflection in the full-length 360 degree mirror.

Claude looked amazing, much better than she could have ever imagined when she dreamed up his design. The dark gray tailcoat had a swallowtail cut and was decorated with three diagonally placed gold buttons that went from the bottom of the lapels to the bottom of the waist. The waistcoat underneath was eggplant purple in a subtle diamond Harlequin pattern with a matching cravat tied in a bow. She had kept the buff colored  trousers simple and plain so they wouldn’t detract from the rest of the outfit. The shirt was simple and white for the same reason.

Marinette couldn’t handle the suspense. “Well?!”

“This…this isn’t anything I’d choose for myself. Not in a million years.” The designer’s shoulders began to droop before Claude hastily added, “But it looks great on me!” He twisted from one side to the other. “I look so…” He lifted his chin. “Elegant and classy. Kind of formal but with style and flare. Purple is Allegra’s color. Did you know that?” He looked at Marinette over his shoulder and smiled before going back to admiring his image in the mirror.

“Yeah. I knew that.” Marinette was relieved to know he liked what he saw. “She told me and I wanted to coordinate your outfits but I also thought the darker purple would bring out your eyes.”

“And you were right!” He approached Marinette as if about to hug her then stopped. “It’s probably not a good idea to hug you while wearing this fancy outfit.”

“I’ll mark you down for a hug later.” She told him and then asked, “how is the fit? Too tight”? Is there anything you don’t like or want adjusted?”

He looked down. “The pants are a little long. I don’t want to trip while wearing them. Could you raise the hem? Maybe a centimeter or so?”

She made a note on her phone. “No problem.”

Chloe gave him a nod of approval. “Looking good, Claude.”

He bowed to her and then straightened. “Wow, this is really easy to move in! I thought it would be all…” He made a vague hand gesture. “Stiff and itchy, and completely black and white.”

Marinette laughed. “We have better fabric than they did back then. Plus, we’re just going for the aesthetic of the time period, not total accuracy.  And the black and white evening wear was more Victorian while your outfit was inspired by Regency fashion. Besides,” she smiled up at him. “You have way too much personality for black and white.”

“That’s more Felix’s style than mine anyway.” Chloe raised a brow at the insult to their friend but didn’t comment.

“Oh! One more thing,” Claude looked nervous  “Could I have a hat? A top hat? That would be cool.”

Marinette pretended to make a note but she was already working on one. “As long as you don’t wear it while dancing.”

He pouted at her but she wouldn’t fall for his big blue eyes. “All right, you’re done. Go change.”

Claude hopped down from the platform but added, “Okay, but don’t forget my hat.”

“Don’t be an ass, Claude,” Chloe told him and then recoiled as she glanced over and realized he hadn’t shut the curtain.

“Gah! I didn’t mean I wanted to see your ass, you exhibitionist!”

                                                  *****

“Wait, you did what?” Allegra paused while dressing. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Marinette glared over at a smug, unrepentant Chloe. The photographer had texted Allegra a sneak peek of Lila’s dress.

Allegra couldn’t believe it. The Italian girl had tried to kill Marinette twice. Both times Felix had nearly been collateral damage. Rossi should be forced to wear the scratchiest dress Marinette could make. Instead the little psycho was being rewarded for her shitty behavior by wearing a damn fine dress for the ball scene.

“Oh wow, Allegra, it’s like I’m a professional designer or something.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“You’re an intern,” Chloe reminded her.

“An intern creating original costumes for a major motion picture,” Marinette shot back, “so I must be doing something right.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow. Damn, Dupain-Cheng had really found her spine between moving on from Adrien and getting out from under Bustier’s thumb.

“Yeah, but-” Allegra began.

“The point is,” Marinette cut her off and pointed to the door. Chloe nodded. Anyone could be eavesdropping and they couldn’t afford to tip off their prey or cause an akuma if an angry crewmember went after Lila. Again. “I never do less than my best for anyone. I don’t want anyone I design for to look bad, no matter what our personal relationship is.”

Chloe texted Allegra and the other girl dropped the subject. Time to finish dressing anyway.

Allegra wished the dressing room had a mirror but oh well. She slid back the curtain and stepped out. She caught a glimpse of herself in the 360 degree mirror and her jaw dropped.

“Holy shit.”

She wasn’t sure if it were she, Marinette or Chloe who said that. She looked from her reflection to the designer and back again. “You know what? Forget anything I said about you making a nice dress for Lila. Mine is at least four times better.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Chloe picked up her camera and began taking pictures of Allegra from as many angles as she could.

The dress was a strapless lilac organza dress with a tulle overlay. The tulle was artfully draped over the skirt in gentle folds that gave the dress an almost Grecian look. There were also silver dove appliques on the skirt and bodice and gathered at the waist to look like a belt.

Goddammit she was gonna slay. She found herself wishing Alii could see her right now but the kwami was in her locker for safekeeping. She would not risk her being stolen by someone like Lila…or freaking Marinette out with a mini unicorn.

Allegra patted the material of the skirt. “No offense, but…is this supposed to be so stiff and heavy?” She hoped she wasn’t offending Marinette. They were just starting to become some sort of friends and she didn’t want to be the one to screw that up.

Instead of being offended Marinette just grinned. “Look under the flowers around your waist.”

Allegra did and to her surprise, she found a bunch of snaps. She undid each one and the skirt of the dress fell away,  making Allegra glad Marinette had insisted she wear workout shorts under the dress. The underside was full of pockets, some large, some small. One was long and skinny, just the perfect size to hide a sword.

“Elinor is the group’s weapons expert and since you’re expected to fight near the end of the ball scene I thought it would be a good idea for your character to have some built-in weapons pockets. That’s why the dress is as long as it is. She can wear a pair of trousers and some athletic shoes or maybe what the Americans call ‘cargo pants’ so she can carry all her weapons while running or something.”

It was on the tip of Chloe’s tongue to tell Marinette she was brilliant but she wasn’t in the habit of giving compliments to people. Especially someone she used to bully. Fortunately Allegra beat her to it.

“That is completely freaking brilliant!” Allegra praised and Marinette just smiled and shrugged.

“Thanks. The hardest part was making sure the material was sturdy enough to support the weight of anything we put in the pockets and to hide the trousers.” Marinette laughed, pleased to see Allegra appreciated her skills. “At the same time, it had to be light enough so you could move and dance in it.”

Allegra did a twirl and then a few moves she’d seen in a Bik Bok video. “It looks like you succeeded.” She reattached the skirt with Marinette’s and then looked at the other girl as a thought occurred to her. “You know, I think you might consider a degree in architecture or engineering instead of fashion.”

Marinette smiled but also looked thoughtful. “You know, I’ve considered both of those fields. But fashion is what I love right now. I can always change my mind in the future.”

“No, don’t, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe spoke up with a touch of her old snottiness, “become a designer. Save us from the mediocre crap Gabriel has become.”

Marinette burst out laughing. It made Allegra smile to see the other girls bonding, even if she didn’t understand the reference. She knew Felix’s uncle was Gabriel Agreste and he was an asshole but she never really liked his designs. Well, it wasn’t like the Quantic Kids didn’t have their little secrets and in-jokes as well.

Chloe also laughed, a small little chuckle but Allegra still counted it as a laugh. She was glad to see her new friend was trying to overcome her past and be nicer to Marinette. There was also a possibility Marinette could learn to forgive her bully and they could all be friends.

Marinette shook her head. “I used to look up to that man until I got to know him a little better. Besides, why does a world-famous designer…”

“Dress like a giant peppermint stick?” Chloe finished for her and the two girls looked at each other before laughing their asses off.

Allegra grinned and headed back to the dressing room. It was a shame the Heraldry Box was missing so many kwami. She was sure Marinette would have made a great Knight.

                                                      *****

Ivan looked in the 360-degree mirror one more time and did a double bicep pose, admiring his reflection. The leather frock coat with silver thread embroidery made his muscular frame look even more intimidating. Marinette thought the dark silver vest and black shirt looked good on him. She thought adding scrollwork to the hems of the sleeves really made them pop. Ivan would make a beautiful contrast when he danced with Mylene.

Ivan seemed to agree. “I look like a Goth pirate!” He looked down at the vest. “I really like how the buttons are little metal skulls. How did you get Madame Jennings to agree to let you do that?”

She laughed. “Are you kidding? They were her idea.” She grinned at the amazed look on her friend’s face. “She’s a closet death metal fan. I lent her your Vyson CD and she loved it.”

“Wow!” Ivan looked impressed.

She held out a hand. “You look a little stiff.”

He carefully lifted his arms. “It’s a little tight on the shoulders.”

She nodded. “I thought so. It looks like you had another growth spurt. Let me adjust the jacket.”

Marinette re-measured her friend then let him go back into the dressing room. After changing into his street clothes he gave her a smile and the silent Chloe a semi-civil nod before leaving.

She looked over at Chloe. “Do you need a bathroom break? Maybe some water or a snack?”

Chloe just blinked. She knew they were allies against Lila and Felix had started to like Marinette but having her former target be nice to her made her feel awkward, not to mention guilty.

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” she told Marinette. It makes me feel bad.

“I know,” Marinette stuck pins and marked up Ivan’s jacket with dressmaker’s chalk. “But being angry with you all the time wears me out. Besides,” she almost smiled, “I’m on the clock.”

Chloe wasn’t sure how to take what Marinette was saying to her. Was she trying to start a fight or keep the peace? A strong Dupain-Cheng who stood up for herself was still hard to understand. “I’ll take you up on that bathroom break. Don’t get started without me.”

“I won’t,” Marinette promised but the blonde was already out the door.

                                                        *****

Don’t be nervous. It’s a professional fitting, just like Marinette taking your measurements was. Don’t get turned on when she’s just doing her job.

Luka would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit how much he liked having Marinette’s hands on his body, even if it were completely innocent. He thought she might have enjoyed it too, judging by her melody. Still, it wouldn’t be right to make a move without her say-so.

Then again, there was Felix. He could tell the other boy was starting to become close to Marinette and he admitted he liked Felix too. He could see them becoming friends, all of them. But the problem was Felix was starting to harmonize with Marinette and if she chose Felix, Luka would have no choice but to step aside.

Dammit.

He was tired of being the bigger person and just not pursuing what or who he wanted. He’d been understanding when Marinette had a crush on Adrien. He knew she couldn’t help how she felt any more than Luka could. Adrien might have been happy with Kagami but his obliviousness was not only a pain in the ass but wasted a year of Marinette’s life.

He loved her and he wanted her to be happy but he was also tired of waiting around to pursue his own happiness. He didn’t want Marinette to fall for Felix just because he looked like his cousin. Luka wanted to be just a little bit selfish for once in his life.

His feet had taken him to Marinette’s workroom without him realizing he was already there. He didn’t want to knock yet! Not when his own melody was all jumbled and discordant!

Then he had an idea. He’d recorded a new song on his phone earlier that day before even coming to work. He’d play it for Marinette to get her opinion before his fitting. That way he could calm himself. Music always had that power for him.

[uwuwriting]

Todoroki and Deku after their girlfriend had a failed mission

Request: Hi could I request Todoroki and Deku where their girlfriend *after high school of course* had a very difficult mission and she wasn’t able to save a child and is blaming herself? ANGST- anonymous

So I have another request like this one but I decided to split it into two parts because then it would be too many characters for one post. My laptop’s charger broke that’s why I didn’t post the last two days, I’m writing from my dad’s PC which is a lil dangerous.....if he looks at the search history. Anyways this is angsty. Love ya! 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: mentions of death, not detailed description of death, break down. 

Todoroki Shouto

-He had heard on the news about a massive attack near a pre school which got him worried for the kids but then he saw you along side with your agency fighting off the villain and was sure everything would be fine. 

-He knew that you would do anything to protect those kids and how powerful you were. 

-Everything didn’t go smoothly though. 

-He didn’t know what happened only that you were in the hospital along with another person who was injured during the attack. 

-Once at the hospital he walked into your room only to find you fast asleep your chest steadily rising and falling. 

-The bandages on your arms and neck were slitghtly stained, the sight broke his heart. 

-After talking with your doctor, he stayed all night by your side holding your hand as you slept. 

-When you woke up after a day you immediately asked to call your agency.

-He saw how your face dropped at the news you were given and he tried to coax you to tell him what was wrong. 

-He couldn’t help you if he didn’t know what was going on. 

- “A little girl was hit by the villain during the attack I-I wanted to know if she made it....”

-Just by looking at your expression he knew that the little girl was gone. 

-He tried to tell you that it wasn’t your fault but you quickly changed the subject. 

-You were always like that, bottling your feelings until you found the right time to let it out and he knew that you were doing just that right this moment. 

-Once you got out of the hospital you were told to stay at home for a week in order to let your stitches heal. 

-Your silence was abnormal but he knew better than to push you to talk to him, he didn’t want to fight you. 

-Everything came to a breaking point a day before you were to return to the agency. 

-He woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed and ragged breaths coming from somewhere within the house.

-He dashed to the living room finding you crouched, with your hands digging into your hair. 

- “Y/N, love, love look at me.”

-You were whimpering slightly when he settled in front of you, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

- “I-I need to say it Shouto.”

- “Let it out love, let it out.”

-You took a ragged breath before looking him dead in the eye, your sobs becoming stronger with every word.

- “I-it should have been me. It should have been me. It should have been me. It should have been me.”

-You kept repeating the phrase over and over, cupping his face as more tears rolled down your face. 

- “No no no no sweetheart-”

- “Yes you idiot, it was MY fault.” 

-It took him two full hours to calm you down enough in order for you to tell him what had happened. 

-The blast that hit the child was actually for you but you had managed to deflect it in time before it hit you. 

-What you hadn’t taken into account was where that blast would land. 

-It landed a few feet away from the child but she was hit by the debris and you dove in to save her resulting in the deep cuts all over your body. 

-The thing was that you made it and the little girl didn’t.

- “It should have been me....”

Midoriya Izuku

-He was with you when it happened. 

-You work at the same agency and were sent to a rather secluded area to difuse a villain. 

-It was an abonded warehouse that only the villain used. 

-Things escalated when he refused to come quietly and began attacking. 

-Everything was going fine until you saw the little boy near the entrance. 

- “Get out of here!”

-You shouted at him but he didn’t budge, he was frozen in fear. 

-The poor thing was staring wide eyed at the villain who was ruthlessly attacking Deku. 

-You rushed over to the child and scooped him up, sprinting out of the warehouse. 

-The villain noticed that and ran after you forgetting about Deku, putting his all into taking you out. 

-If he was being honest he thought you were running away.

-He had no idea you were carrying his son in your arms. 

-So he attacked. 

-You didn’t have time to respond to the attack, only shielding the boy as you were slammed into the nearest wall. 

-The wall came down with you and the only thing you remember hearing before you were knocked out by the falling debris was Deku’s voice calling out to you. 

-You were certain you had shielded the child completely. 

-That he wouldn’t have been hit by anything. 

-That you had taken all the damage leaving the boy to walk out from under the collapsed wall with a few scratches and bruises. 

-That was your goal and all be damned if you weren’t ready to give your life to protect the kid. 

-But when you woke up in the hospital Deku’s face was painted with sadness and borderline pity. 

-He was relieved that you were alive and that you had finally woken up after a week of not knowing if you were going to make it, but he knew that what he had to say would devestate you. 

-You may have hit your head but you hadn’t forgotten about the boy. 

- “How is he? The little boy. Is he alright?”

-He stared down at his hands at your question, tears springing to his eyes at the sound of hope in your voice,

- “Y/N....”

-It dawned at you then. 

-He didn’t make it out.

-Immediately you started trying to stand, to get to Izuku, to beg him to tell you that it wasn’t true. 

-But you know it was true and one whole week laying in a hospital bed had taken its toll on you. 

-You came crashing down the moment you stopped supporting yourself in the bed railing. 

-Izuku was at your side in a flash bringing you to his chest as you sobbed for the life you couldn’t save. 

-With your next comment Izuku knew you would never be the same, that today you had lost part of yourself. 

-Burried it along with the innocent child you couldn’t protect.

- “I wish it had been me....”

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez-mangetsu​ @bemorefiction​ @axerrri​

[rainii-reads]

Chateau

DESCRIPTION: After a fateful encounter, you and Yoongi have finally decided to go public with your relationship.

This was inspired by the song Chateau by Tokio Hotel. Bolded dialogue are direct lyrics.

WORD COUNT: 1, 903 PAIRING: Idol!Yoongi x Reader GENRE: Fluff and comfort

Warnings: Implied slut shamming; analogies referencing cuts (there is no self-harming, only references to words hurting.)

Author’s note: This is my first fanfiction for BTS, and my first story in a long, long time. Hope it’s not too bad! You can also read it on AO3.

🌸

Taking up Arms: ARMY Feuds Over SUGA and Y/N

As news of BTS’s SUGA sweeps the kPop world, fans are divided. Many ARMYs citing Y/N as a clout seeker - stealing their Min SUGA. ARMY’s on the offense challenge the perceived ownership of the Bangtan rapper. This brings to question, however, do these fans approve of the relationship or are they simply defending SUGA?

The Next Yoko Ono: Will Y/N be the end of Bangtan Sonyeondan

Silence rings clearer than the stroke of the keyboard. Three weeks have passed since word broke of the famous rapper’s new relationship. The onslaught of hatred continues to poor out in droves, yet silence remains from the musician’s fellow members. Is it possible the six comrades also dislike Y/N?

Anti-Y/N Accounts Take Twitter by Storm

In the last week Twitter has taken action and began removing dozens of accounts dedicated to canceling Y/N. While Twitter works to delete the insults and threats of harm, where is Big Hit? Will they take action to protect BTS’s SUGA and his new sweetheart?

“Sweetheart?” You snapped. “And what’s with the italics – we all know you’re being sarcastic. No need to lay it on thicker.” You fumed for a moment longer, at the snippy report, before you found your laptop being pulled from your grasp. You dared not look up at the sleepy gaze of the man in debate.

“Sweetheart, why are you reading the headlines again?”

It was the truth. Your streak of laziness was something Yoongi often appreciated about you. It resulted any many home dates and working side-by-side in the Genius Lab at all hours of the day. Shared moments you loved. However, you couldn’t handle any more inquires from that man, he had been unyielding for days, and you were slowly breaking.

“Excuse me, are their free refills on black coffee?”You had asked, trying to spare him from the one-sided conversation (if it could even be called that). Yoongi used the moment to escape and take a seat at the table nearest you, waiting for his iconic iced-americano. You remember the sweet smile he gave you as he mouthed ‘thank you’ – the start to your simple chitchat about the shop’s décor and more.

You often giggle as you remember the notes you passed on the plane ride home. The ones kept safe in your nightstand. Had you not looked up, the moment he walked down the cramped isle, Yoongi wouldn’t have shared a smile with you, before taking his seat in first-class.

Within an hour of the flight, a young, excited stewardess had come to your seat handing you a folded sheet of paper. Noticing she was waiting for you to read the note, you unfolded it and struggled to stifle the laugh that emerged. “So, who is your bias?” Yoongi wrote in memory of when your phone rang at the coffee shop, announcing your ARMY status as Converse High played. It was the rare time you had left your sound on.

From time to time, you wondered about the excited flight attendant. You wish you could see her again just so you could tell her thank you for putting up with Yoongi’s archaic flirting. Had she not been so kind and willing, your relationship may not have formed.

These and many more memories were what put you to ease when you sat in a conference room at HYBE Entertainment. It was there where plans were made for the announcement your relationship with the one and only Min Yoongi of BTS. Photos of your not-so-secret dates had progressively found their way onto Tumblr and Twitter, gaining the attention of gossip sites. However, it was more appropriate to call it an interrogation than a planning session.

“Y/N,” you remember the head of PR starting, “Are you sure there are no past scandals that will cause Min Yoongi any problems?” The intention behind ‘scandals’ had not been lost on.

Your usual demeanor was gone as you snipped back. “I’m pretty sure I was too lazy to have any scandals.”

Yoongi snorted as he held back his laugh.

It was the truth. Your streak of laziness was something Yoongi often appreciated about you. It resulted any many home dates and working side-by-side in the Genuis Lab at all hours of the day. Shared moments you loved. However, you couldn’t handle any more inquires from that man, he had been unyielding for days, and you were slowly breaking.

Your sarcasm hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Do you not understand what kind of position you are putting our artist and company in? We need to be prepared for whatever we will need to clean up after you. You need to take this seriously.” Intentions ringing clearly, again.

In your heart, you knew he trying to do right by Yoongi and the company, but the judgement that wove into his words cut. You also took offense to how he made you sound like a disease that clung to Yoongi, bringing him harm.

As you looked back, it was the first of many wounds that told you, you were unworthy of Min Yoongi.

“Y/N is very aware of what implications a public relationship will have.” The man in question spoke, his tone shifting as he said, “She is more than clear of any scandals. Worst we’ll see are malicious lies and rumors – no truth within them – and that is where this discussion will end.” As Yoongi spoke, his few words carried immense weight. For each previously inflicted cut, his words bandaged themselves around to ease the pain.

Heeding the warning, the interrogation ended, and the meeting regained its original focus: preparation for the announcement and aftermath.

Two weeks after the tense convening, the news was released through an official statement form HYBE, confirming the relationship of Min Yoongi and his new girlfriend. The media and social-media platforms were instantly in a frenzy and, as planned, everyone remained silent. It had been decided that everyone would keep silent for a month, to see what would earn a response.

That singular month had been the sharpest cut to your fragile skin.

_______________________

Breaking through your thoughts, Yoongi spoke again, “Y/N.”

You looked up at him, finally, and sighed. “I’m sick, okay? I can’t help but want to see what is being said about me, about us. Did you see they’re calling me Yoko Ono? Will the media ever cease with the constant Beetles comparisons? Don’t they see you guys are tired of responding to the accolades?”

He spared you a look, leaving you to end your rambles. The rambles he knew you were using to deflect from your current, unhealthy obsession.

“I really can’t help it Yoongi,” You sighed. “In less than a week we can finally speak out and I need to know what I’m defending myself against.”

In an almost languid fashion, he placed the laptop down and sat next to you. Pulling you closer as he organized his thoughts. “That’s not really for you to worry about. The company and I will handle that.”

“No, I need to do something. I can’t just hide behind you. People are talking about us and they’re going to watch and critique every little thing we do. I know that isn’t what we discussed, but this anxiety is unlike anything else.”

He reached out and gently ran the tips of his fingers down the sides of your face, smoothing out any traces of stress. The very hand that famously held a tight grasp on a black microphone, was now the source of your ease. The very hand that was adored by many, was saved for you.

“Here’s the thing,” he spoke slowly, “People are gonna talk. So, let them talk; let them talk about us. People are gonna watch. So, let 'em touch, let 'em see, let 'em feel what love is.”

They were simple words, yet, as the always did, they healed the damages from the last three weeks.

Tears overwhelmed your eyes, gliding down to touch the tips of his fingers. “Let it all go, since it finally happened.” He had worried about the brave face you had been parading. “I know they’re going to talk. I know they’re going to watch. Baby, I don’t mind as long as it’s you and I. We’ll just let them see what real love is.”

As you processed the abundance of emotions that had accumulated, Yoongi held you close. Occasionally whispering the right sentiments to soften the anxiety more. While you laid with him, you wondered: Exactly how much had to go right for you to be with him? The gossip columns may say that the two of you were different, too different in fact, but your time together showed you how alike you were. How right you were for each other.

Many more challenges awaited you, but with him you knew it would be fine. You were not coming down from your cloud.

_______________________

Later that evening, as the tears dried and the anxiety eased to rest, you proposed a trip. “Hey, the next time were in California we should stay at the Chateau Marmot.”

“Isn’t that place haunted?” His abundance of quirky knowledge never ceased to amaze you.

After a quick search to confirm, you scratched the plan. “I’ll find another chateau. One free of the paranormal.”

A short moment of silence passed before you asked your next thought, “What did you mean earlier when you said, “let them touch”?

Yoongi looked up from his phone and paused for affect. “Don’t know. It just sounded right in my head – I didn’t mean anything weird by it.” He laughed, exposing his renowned smile.

“Pervert.” You teased, tossing a pillow his way.

In an unexpected fashion, Yoongi lunged forward seeking retaliation. Having not anticipated it, you stumbled off the bed, in an attempt to run away, but he pulled you back before you could escape. In the most cliché of moments, he tickled your sides until the fits of laughter led to you sharing a loving gaze and slow kiss.

“You’re right,” you said as your lips separated, “Let ‘em talk – we’ll show them what real love it.”

_______________________

The Power Couple that is Y/SN

A year has since passed since news of Y/SN occupied our every thought. In celebration of our favorite power couple, we’ve broken down the Top 10 Reasons why we love Y/SN!

Goals: How do we land a relationship like SUGA and Y/N’s?

Recently, photos and videos of a not-so-secret date between SUGA and Y/N made their way onto the internet. As the young couple is seen leaving Chateau de Sureau, they’re hand-in-hand showing signs of laughter. The love between the two is so clear not even an anti-Y/SN could deny it. So, the question remains, how do we get our own fairytale romance?

We’ve been asking, but has SUGA?

The question all fans of Y/SN have been wanting to know: When will SUGA ask the big question? Our sources suggest it may be sooner than you might think. As BTS wraps up their latest world tour, preparing to go back to the studio, rumors of the young rapper ring shopping have bubbled up. Whether this is true or not remains to be seen, but we look forward to the exciting news for our favorite couple.

[tiramisiyu]

【恋与制作人】MLQC: 【天堂福利院】Kiro’s Heaven’s Home for Children R&S Translation

The cruel truth about a sham of a “heaven”, to be torn apart by a real angel.

Translation Masterlist: here

See under the cut!

--

When Kiro rubbed his dry eyes and lifted his head from the computer, it was already midnight. He yawned quietly, looking indifferently at the clock hand that had stopped at 12-o’clock. His face was awash in the cold light of the screen, looking pale white.

Today was the third day of superstar Kiro’s “creative retreat”, and it was also the third day of hacker Key’s “ubiquitous re-emergence”.

Kiro wasn’t sure which of his identities was more famous. Of course, no one would link these two polar-opposite identities together.

Superstar Kiro was a little angel who received the love and respect of thousands and thousands of fans. What hacker Key sounded like was someone with malicious intentions.

Thinking about this, Kiro laughed, reaching his hand out to grab the nearby coke – until he noticed that the coke had been completely drained a long while ago, leaving only a few feather-light cans. Kiro wrinkled his brows, randomly grabbed an empty can and tipped it towards his mouth, just managing to shake out a few drops of brown liquid. In the end, he was still dissatisfied.

“Savin’s gonna kill me… Savin’s gonna kill me…” While repeating this, Kiro covered his face up completely with a facemask and a hat, put on a coat, and headed out.

Midnights in early spring were very cold. The dim lights on the sides of the street lit up the pavement. A stray cat passed by, its sharp cries shattering the silence.

In the convenience store, the clerk was sitting on the side, dozing off. Hovering at the convenience store door, Kiro hesitated for a moment, ultimately choosing to use the automatic vending machine. If the clerk recognized how he looked, he would be screwed.

Good thing that the vending machine had coke. Kiro pulled out a few pieces of spare change, yawning as he stuffed the coins into the coin slot. His had slid off to the side, and the coin fell on the ground, rolling underneath the vending machine.

“What’s up with that… seriously…” Kiro felt all over, yet was still unable to find another coin, so he could only squat down and pick… suddenly, a dirty little hand stuck out, speedily snatching away that coin!

“Who!” Startled, Kiro nearly fell on the ground. A dirtied little boy stuck his head out from behind the vending machine.

Kiro stuck out his hand: “Give the money back to me.”

The little boy looked at Kiro in a daze, then suddenly pointed towards behind Kiro: “Whoa, what’s that!”

Kiro abruptly turned around – there was nothing at all behind him. When he turned back, he noticed that the boy had already run off with a dollar.

“Dammit! I got tricked!” Kiro gritted his teeth in anger. As he ran, the boy stuck his tongue out at Kiro: “Lelele, big dummy, who told you to be so stingy, wanting to get back even just a dollar!”

The boy sprinted desperately, not paying attention to the ground beneath him. In that moment of carelessness, he tripped and fell on the ground. In panic, the boy turned around, continuing to run in a limping manner, paying no attention to his wounds.

Kiro drooped his head down.

Was one dollar that important to the boy?

The boy ran forward desperately, his knees burning with pain.

“Stop running! I’ll invite you out to eat.” He heard a yell behind him.

The boy turned back in astonishment.

Kiro took out some money and waved it towards the boy, speaking casually: “Make a trip for me to the convenience store, and the rest of the money is yours. How about that?”

The boy froze where he was, at a complete loss.

Kiro and the boy sat in a row on the steps near the convenience store. The boy took large bites out of his bread.

Kiro opened his coke and took a gulp, then turned around, seeing how the boy was wolfing down his food. He couldn’t help laughing slightly and shaking his head: “Eating bread like this – are you Jean Valjean?”

“Who’s Jean Valjean?”

“He’s… he’s…” Seeing the boy like this, Kiro had a hard time saying “Les Misérables”. He just quietly said, “He’s… a very amazing person.”

“Really? Then he must have a lot of money.” The boy forcefully swallowed down the bread, licked his lips, and looked at Kiro. He had only paid attention to getting himself bread just now and had forgotten to buy water. Now, the dry bread was clogging up his throat – it really was hard to swallow.

Kiro laughed and handed the coke to the boy. The boy took it and fiercely gulped a few times, then let out a long burp. He touched his mouth in satisfaction, then said “Thank you” to Kiro with embarrassment.

Kiro asked him, “Why have you become hungry to this point? Where are your parents?”

“Dead.” Indifferent, the boy said, “I grew up at an orphanage.”

Kiro’s heart trembled when he heard the word orphanage, his hands and feet becoming ice-cold in an instant. Memories burst out in his mind.

The boy didn’t notice Kiro’s discomfort and continued chattering on. “…The orphanage is very poor. The orphanage director has us go out every day to pick up trash. If we don’t sell it for enough money, he doesn’t allow us to return.”

Kiro looked at the boy, his heart aching for him. Not so long ago, he had also worn tattered, old clothes and looked at the moonlight through the orphanage’s little window. One night after another, he never knew if he would see the moonlight the next day, and he also never knew when the friend beside him would stop breathing.

The boy kept talking.

“I’ll pay you back. I’ll be eight years old very soon. The orphanage director said that when we hit ten years old, he would send us to a very good place. We’ll never have to worry about going hungry when we go there, and we’ll have new parents to love us.”

“What’s the name of your orphanage?”

“Heaven’s Home for Children.”

It was already dawn by the time Kiro returned home. He gave the small amount of cash he had to the boy, then ran like mad home, where he supported himself on the sink as he retched. He then rushed into the bathroom to pour cold water on his head. Only then did he manage to calm down.

In his mind, a blurry-faced man once pulled his hand, walking in the dark, damp hallway. He held the worn-out teddy bear, agitatedly clutching at the man’s fingers. The man crouched down and kindly said to him, “Don’t worry, that place is as happy as heaven.”

Can it also be called heaven when they break the wings off angels and shut them in together?

Kiro looked at his sorry-looking self in the mirror, noticing that he had bitten his lips bloody at some point when he wasn’t aware. Kiro laughed quietly, using his fingers to rub the fresh blood evenly on his lips – no big deal, the “him” in the mirror was as good-looking as always, and that was enough. Now, there was no one that could hurt him. No one.

When Savin arrived at Kiro’s house, Kiro was holding his computer and sitting on the sofa, his eyebrows pinched tightly, his hands flying nonstop over the keyboard. He heard the sound and tilted his head up to give Savin a smile. His hands did not stop moving in the slightest.

Savin supported himself against the doorframe, talking to Kiro with a smile:

“What are you doing?”

Kiro didn’t even raise his head.

“Games.”

Savin was a little surprised.

“Why not use a mechanical keyboard if you’re gaming?”

Kiro laughed and closed the laptop with a “pa”.

“No big deal. I can beat them even with just a trackpad.”

Savin looked at Kiro, faintly feeling the drive in his expression – but in the space of an eye’s blink, Kiro went back to his smiling face, changing fully to a harmless appearance.

He must have seen wrong.

So Savin thought, as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Put on your jacket quick. We’ll be late for the fan meet today!”

Savin grabbed a jacket hanging on the side, planning to throw it to Kiro. “Eh? Why is your jacket soaked? Did you go outside yesterday?”

Kiro became panicked in an instant. “Ah, I didn’t… how could I have…”

“There are also coke stains on the clothes… Kiro, you drank coke behind my back!!”

“Hehe…” Kiro laughed awkwardly. “I just drank one mouthful… just one…”

Today was the day of Kiro’s fan meet. Savin took care of everything for Kiro with ease. Taking advantage of Savin’s inattention, Kiro hid himself into the lounge, carrying his computer, and locked the door. He then opened the computer.

Materials on Heaven’s Home for Children covered the screen. Ever since he arrived home yesterday at dawn, he had been continuously investigating this so-called specially approved private orphanage. The boy had not lied – all children ages eight and above at the orphanage were all adopted to foreign countries.

How could this be, Kiro thought to himself. Younger children typically have higher adoption rates. He wrinkled his brows, thinking for a while, and suddenly reacted. His fingers danced quickly over the keyboard, the intense tapping sounds never stopping in the slightest.

Savin’s voice sounded from outside.

“Kiro, time to prepare to get onstage!”

Kiro did not respond to Savin. His entire attention was focused on the laptop. Rows and rows of code rushed past, like a rapidly-moving train, driving past his pupils. His expression was no longer like the ignorant ones of a little fawn – it was the expression of a hunter.

The knocking sounds outside the door became more intense.

“Kiro? Kiro?”

Kiro remained silent, his hands moving with increased speed.

Sure enough, this orphanage was no simple operation. On the surface, it looked like a charity organization, but they had been continuously doing underground human trafficking work. Kiro looked at the “prices” of the children on the website – none of them costed more than one of his clothes.

He revealed an anguished smile. The lies from back then have actually appeared here again. This world was already hell – how could it have a heaven?

The knocking outside the door became more and more intense, and Savin raised his voice. “Kiro! Open the door! What are you doing inside?!”

Kiro did not respond. He just bit hard on his lips, his gaze never leaving the computer screen for a second. After all, it was a site on the dark web, so it was harder to break into than the average website. Kiro thought about the tattered clothes and smiling face of the boy from yesterday, feeling a pain like someone had grabbed his heart.

It seemed like there was someone putting up a tenacious resistance on the website’s side. Kiro accurately set a trap, waiting for the person on the other side to relax their guard and step in…

One second, two seconds, three seconds… up until ten seconds.

Faster, faster. Kiro hung down his eyes, reciting this silently.

Savin could no longer wait outside the door. He found security guards, planning to ram the door open. Several sturdy security guards pulled up their sleeves, aiming to ram the lounge door together.

Kiro balled up his fist, his expression not wavering in the slightest. Following the passing of time, the site seemed to gradually lose its guardedness. Like a wild wolf on guard, stretching out its paws to carefully scout the road in the dark night, while the trap that Kiro had laid was right on the side. Step by step, it explored, on alert, and one front paw poked into the trap…

“Caught it!” Kiro cried out quietly in surprise, his two hands tapping away again on the keyboard. This time, he wouldn’t let his prey run away again!

“Bang!” The door was ferociously rammed open! Savin pushed aside everyone else, agitatedly rushing in, but all he saw was Kiro reclining dazedly on the sofa, seeming to just have woken from sleep.

Savin immediately froze. “Are… are you alright?”

Kiro yawned hugely, stretching under the gaze of everyone, and lazily said, “Sorry, I fell asleep just now.”

Savin looked at Kiro with suspicion. The latter then squinted, revealing a large smile.

Kiro was not late. He got on the fan meet dance stage as promised. He wore a black jacket, warmly waving to his fans, bursting with life.

Screams like a tsunami sounded under the stage.

Amid the screams, a female fan lowered her head and looked at her phone, then tapped the friend beside her in surprise. “An anonymous hacker revealed that Heaven’s Home for Children was doing human trafficking.”

Her friend didn’t even turn around. “Kiro’s right in front of you, so how can you pay attention to some hacker!”

The female fan thought about it, feeling that it made sense. She immediately put her phone away, waving her light sticks to cheer for Kiro.

Kiro looked at all the fans under the stage, holding onto Key’s ring through his pocket. The edges and corners of the ring rubbed against his palm through the clothes, inciting stabbing pains.

Under the slight pain, Kiro smoothed out his brow, took the microphone and revealed a smile.

Good thing that the world can be at peace after the storm has passed.

--

The Heaven’s Home for Children issue had already gotten on headlines before the fan meet ended. The Loveland police headed in very quickly. Within three days, this orphanage built on all the children’s blood and tears was destroyed thusly, and all involved people were caught. Many large forums were discussing exactly who hacker Key was, but no one could give an answer. No one knew over ten years ago, and still no one knew now.

Five months later, the Angel’s Orphanage completed construction. As the main sponsor, Kiro arrived at the scene – bringing 50 boxes of coke.

“You’re going to ruin the children’s teeth from drinking this,” Savin complained on the side.

“This is called satisfying them by proxy, don’t you understand?” Kiro shot impatiently at Savin, then casually called over the little boy near him.

Seeing Kiro’s somewhat familiar face, the little boy froze on the spot. Kiro laughed, handing the boy a can of coke.

Savin had already been called to the side to help. The boy took the coke in a daze, hesitantly saying, “Big brother… exactly who are you?”

Kiro laughed, shushing the boy and revealing a mysterious smile.

“Hello, I’m a hacker. I’m called Key.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you.”

[drazzilder]

Half Hot

By Drazzilder 

@justmewoo requested a story. I think there will be more to this but this is the first part, hope you all enjoy!

You are rushing to the hospital. Not even red lights can stop you from getting there as fast as possible. Your mother was in a severe car accident and the doctor on the phone said to come immediately. When you arrive, you quickly talk to one of the front desk nurses and find your mother’s room. Upon entering, you see numerous machines all around her, keeping her alive. It takes all of your will power not to cry when approaching the bed. She is asleep but her eyes open when you grab her hand.

“(Y/N)….” She barely whispers.

“I’m here. Its ok.”

“You know I’m not going to make it.” She says this while looking at you with a loving and apologetic face.

You begin to cry. “I know.”

“I need to tell you something before I go.”

“Anything…”

“I lied to you about your father.”

“What?” your tears are stopped almost immediately when hearing this.

“He didn’t die of a drug overdose. Your father is alive.”

“Wait? Who is he?”

“He’s the number one hero…”

“Endeavor? That’s impossible!?”

“He came to America a long time ago and I did things I regret but I’m happy I can tell you now.”

“That’s why you made me learn Japanese?”

“Yes, I was preparing you for this one day. I’m sorry I lied.”

“Mom….” You squeeze her hand a little tighter as you start to cry again.

“Oh, and Happy 25th Birthday…” The heart monitor holds its tone. You cry at the side of the bed until a nurse comes into the room. She tells you she is sorry for your loss but you get up and head to the front desk. After getting all of the paperwork figured out, you head home. You still lived at home with your mother, so going to an empty home is going to be hard. You were between jobs and you had not much to your name. When you get home, you see a small cake with “Happy Birthday!” written on it. The cake ends up in the trash out of sadness and anger. All this time, you had a father a world away and yet your mother never told you. It would explain your quirk, only being able to heat your hands up but not create any flames. The sulking stops when you open your laptop and look up tickets to Japan.

Endeavor may be the number one hero and you admired him for so long but you need to talk to him. He is even a hero in your eyes, you being a big fan of him. You even have a room almost filled to the brim with Endeavor toys, posters, plushies and more. “I have nothing left, might as well try…” you think as you book the plane tickets. The week wait felt like an entirety but when you got on the plane, your heart was racing. Once on the ground, it isn’t long before you arrive at the Endeavor agency. When you enter, the shock on the secretary’s face tells you that you are in the right place. You never really noticed before but you look like the spitting image of Endeavor. 6’3’’, wide frame, square jaw line, blue eyes, crimson red hair.

“I am here to speak to Endeavor, is he available.?” You say as the words look like they flying over the poor secretary’s head.

“I-I… let me call him and let him know he has a…. visitor.” She is trying to best to hide her shock but you know that it can’t be helped. After she hangs up, she walks you nervously to the office. The doors open and she motions you inside. The big man himself is in his office chair, looking down at his work. He doesn’t even look up when you enter.  

“Hello, uh…Mr. Endeavor sir.”

He responds without even looking up. “You speak Japanese fairly well, however your American accent shines through. I can tell you learned from a native speaker. What do you need?”

“Um… Thank you. I… My name is (Y/N), I don’t know how to say this easily but I think I am your son.”

“What makes you say….” The number 1 hero is stopped in his tracks as he looks up. His body language changed in an instant, those words ringing in his head. When he finally can move again, it looks like he saw death himself. With mouth slightly agape, he just stares for a while then he manages to speak.

“Wa… how…why…”

“My mom told me. She said you visited America and you two met.”

The cogs start spinning in the hero’s head as he starts to remember the past. “Stella?” is all he can manage to remember.

“That was her name.”

“Was? Does that mean…”

“Yes, she passed away.”

“Oh…. And you are about 25 years old?”

“Yes. My birthday was last week actually, the same day she died.”

“What happened?”

“A car accident.”

“I…. I am sorry.”

“It was an accident.”

“No, I mean yes I am sorry about that. I really mean that I am sorry I was never there. Did you have a father as a child?”

“No, it was just me and mom.”

Under his breath “God, why did I….” Then he speaks normally again “I am sorry I did that to you. I guess you are here now because you wanted to find out if I really was your father.”

“That and I have nothing left at home. I didn’t have a job, my mom is dead, no family on her side is left. I had nothing left to live for so I decided to start fresh. Even if you were not my dad I could always start anew here.”

“That doesn’t need to happen. You are more than welcome to stay with me.”

“I don’t need that, I can j- “

“No, I insist. I need to make this up to you. I need to….” the man sounds like he is about to choke but he manages to calm himself before getting up and hugging you. Even though you are almost as tall as him, you are not nearly as built and he feels huge. His hug feels nice, something you never had as a child. The hug breaks and you feel cold again but the look on Endeavor’s face makes you forget about that. It looks like he has been beaten down. You don’t get much time to think about it when he offers to take you home with him after he finishes for the day. Of course, you agree. A sidekick takes you on a tour around the agency until it is time to go and Endeavor gets a ride for the two of you to get home.

The Todoroki residence is a large traditional style Japanese home with a massive property for being in the city. When you enter the home, something feels off. It is stale, lifeless and empty. You look around and see not a single sign of life around, that is until you find a photo frame. This a picture of Endeavor standing next to a frail looking woman with a small boy with red and white hair.

“Is this your family?” you ask while he is in another room.

“Yes…” he almost sighs.

“What are their names?”

“R-Rei is my wife. The children are Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shoto.”

“Wait, I only see one child in the photo.” You wait for a response but you only hear silence. When he comes to the room, he acts like that question was never spoken.

“Where is your family?”

“They are not here. They live in another home.”

“Is it too much to ask why?”

“It is for their safety.”

“Oh, that makes sense you being the number one hero and all.” You take a moment to settle in. Endeavor takes you to a guest bedroom and you unpack your small bag. It isn’t long till there is some dinner made and you sit eating with him in silence again.

“You know when I found out you where my dad, I freaked out.” This doesn’t get much of a response from him so you continue. “To be the son of the number one hero, the fire hero himself, I was so excited. I have a heat quirk but all I can do is just make my hands really hot, kinda useless. But it makes sense that I got this quirk from you.”

Endeavor just chews quietly until he swallows heavily and manages to speak. “I…. When I saw you in my office, I knew you were my son. You look just like me. I am sorry that you had to go all that time without a father, without me being there. It isn’t right. I should have been there, I should have…..” He trails off before looking back at his bowl of rice.

“It is ok. You didn’t know.”

“Was your life, ok?”

“I guess. There were times where we had it rough but every family goes through that.”

He just sighs. “That…. It didn’t have to be that way.”

“Hey, I am here now. We can work on it now.”

“You are right. Let me make this right. I want to be a good father to you. I will take tomorrow off so we can start to work on that.”

“Ok, that’s a little fast but sounds good.”

“Thank you.” You wonder why he is thanking you but you think his emotions must be high from everything that has happened today. You find your way back to the guest room and fall asleep almost instantly from the jet lag. The morning is filled with the smell of a traditional Japanese breakfast. In the kitchen, Endeavor is waiting for you.

“Good morning, I hope you slept alright.”

“I did and thank you for cooking, it looks great!”

“You are welcome. I wanted to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

“You never knew who your father was until recently?”

“No, my mom never said a word. She told me that he died of a drug overdose.”

“I see. Did you know who I was before this?”

“Yes, I knew you were the number 2 then number 1 hero. It’s a little funny, I actually had a whole room full of Endeavor stuff. I am a huge fan.”

“What do you mean ‘had’?”

“I sold everything I had left to come here.”

“Oh…. I have one last question. Did you want to meet the rest of the family?”

“I-If they want to. I would love to but I don’t want to impose.”

“I will call and see if they are up to it right after breakfast.” It isn’t long before the food is finished end Endeavor is on his phone. He called his daughter and isn’t on the phone long before he comes back.

“They will be here later in the week. Is there anything you wanted to do today?”

“I never have been around Japan before; we can go anywhere.”

“I have some ideas. Let’s go.”

The two are headed out. They walk to the nearest station and take a train to the center of the city. The looks you got on the train were a mix between shocked and horror seeing two people who looked like the number one hero. Once in the city, Endeavor is quick to show you around. He takes you to the major landmarks, the hot spots for people your age, and even some of his favorite spots to eat. Around noon, you go to a local yakitori shop and enjoy some of the local cuisine. Lunch ends and then he wants to take you to one last place before head back. It isn’t long before you are both at a traditional Japanese temple. You take your time to walk around and take in all of the sights and respect the culture the best you can. He knows you are trying your best to understand and helps when he can.

The whole week goes something like this. Endeavor took the whole week off work early each day to spend time with you. Sometimes you went into the city, other times you went more into nature either a park or more distant parts of Japan. This is was all so much for you, you now have a father, someone who cares about you. You missed this as a child but now Endeavor is giving you the fatherly attention you always wanted.

The big day is here and you can tell Endeavor is nervous. You both head out before dinner. A small bakery was on your walk so you went inside and bought a cake for everyone to enjoy. Once back home, Endeavor set the table for the family. You are a nervous reck until the doorbell rings.

“Hi dad, what’s with us coming for dinner? Is something wrong?” Fuyumi says before entering. You sit there in shock realizing he didn’t tell them why he called them over. When they all enter the dining room, you look up to stone cold faces.

N: In pure shock “I…Who are you?”

S: “Is this some kind of joke?” He responds with some anger.

F: “Dad?”

E: “This is (Y/N). He is my son.”

N: “WHAT?! You have to be joking!” He starts to get red in the face with anger.

F: “I don’t think dad is, look at him. He looks just like dad.”

S: “This is really shocking to find out.”

(Y/N): “That how I felt when I found out.”

N: “What do you mean when you found out?”

(Y/N): “I only found out a few weeks ago. Please sit down and we can talk. I’m sorry this is all a shock to you.”

S: “This is making me uncomfortable. Can we go?”

E: “Let me make this right.”

N: “I’m heading out with Shoto.”

E: “Wait!”

N: “No, this is too much. How do you think we would react?”

F: “I don’t know how to process this. What he must have gone through without a father.”

E: “Fuyumi, you too?” He looks at her almost in astonishment.

N: “I can’t believe you did that to him. What kind of father are you anyway?”

Hearing all of this, how they talk to their father, it makes you snap. “This is how you treat your father? He is the number 1 hero. He has saved countless lives and helped take down hundreds if not thousands of villains and yet you treat him like what he is saying means nothing. He makes mistakes but that’s ok, we all do. I would love to have a father like him, I never had one as a kid. He wasn’t there when I was a kid but he wants to make up for it, isn’t that enough?”

You look over to the hero who has gone white. Endeavor turns around and leaves the room quickly. You are about to go after him but are stopped when Natsuo grabs your hand.

N: “You don’t know anything, do you?”

(Y/N): “What?”

F: “Our father isn’t perfect.”

(Y/N): “I’m not saying he is perfect.”

S: “He hurt all of us.”

(Y/N): “How?”

F: “He neglected Natsuo and I because we were not perfect to replace him. He hurt Shoto by training him too hard and our mom had a breakdown and hurt Shoto. We didn’t even know much about Shoto until recently because we were kept away from our brother.”

N: “The worst of it is that our oldest brother died because of what dad did to him. He was pushed too hard as a kid.”

S: “All of this just to be better than All Might.”

(Y/N): “What?”

N: “He only kept having kids until a child had the perfect quirk to be better than himself. He abandoned those without a good quirk.”

S: “And now we find out about you, we didn’t even know we had another brother.”  

N: “Another child of his, ruined…”

You look at all three of them and can tell that they are all telling the truth. The emotions inside start to build again and overflow as you speak. “But…. I finally have a dad…” you start to cry, just a little. “My mom died on my birthday, I have no family, and I have no one to care for me. I finally find out I have a father and maybe a family but you’re telling me all of this.” You cover your face to try to hide your emotions. “Why does everything have to be so hard.”

F: “I’m sorry to tell you all this. But it’s only fair to tell you before you decide anything.”

N: “What did he tell you anyway?”

(Y/N): “He didn’t know I was alive.”

S: “What?”

(Y/N): “When I walked into his office, he looked like he saw a ghost. He said he wished he was there and he wanted to make things right. He has been with me all week, trying to make up for lost time.”

N: “Really… he is trying to help you too?”

(Y/N): “Too?”

F: “Dad is trying to make up for his mistakes. He even had us move to a new house to help us heal.”

(Y/N): “He said it was for your safety.”

N: “Yes, from him.”

F: “Natsuo!”

(Y/N): “I need to go talk to him.”

S: “That might not be a good idea.”

(Y/N): “I don’t care. Just wait here till I come back.”

You leave the dining room and wander the house looking for the number 1 hero. Some sounds start to come from a distant part of the house. As you get closer, the sounds start to morphing into the sounds of crying. You turn the corner and find Endeavor crying in front of a shrine.

“Endeavor?”

The man doesn’t even turn towards you as he speaks through his tears. “Go away…. Please…”

“No. We need to talk.”

“I-I don’t want to be seen like this. A hero should be strong but… I can’t hold it together anymore.”

“You are human, it’s ok to feel overwhelmed.”

“I know they told you about me.”

“They did.”

“Why are you defending me? Why are you still here? This family has fallen apart because of me. My son died because of me. My children were practically abandoned, Shoto was pushed hard day after day. I sent my wife to the mental institution because of what I caused. How can I be a hero if I only hurt those around me…?” His crying starts to grow louder as his emotions start to peak. The only thing you think to do is something that doesn’t come naturally to either of you. You grab his shoulders and turn him to you. He hardly has the will power to fight your movements when you put your arms around him. He weakly places his massive arms around you as he continues his sobs. His head lays limply on your shoulder as you try your best to comfort him.

You barely whisper “Let it out, there is no need to hold it inside anymore.” You look up to see the shrine behind Endeavor. The photo in the center is of a small boy with pure white hair. “Is that him?”

“His name was Touya. He was my first born, well I thought he was, but his quirk only hurt him. After having more children to fill my selfish desire to be better than All Might, he got angry and lost control. He died from his powers. I pushed him too far.”

“I….I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t apologize.”

“Don’t worry about me, just keep talking.”

It takes a few moments for the man to pull himself together enough to to begin to speak again. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a horrible father. I abandoned you and your mother. All those years without the support of a father; I don’t deserve you in my life. You deserve someone better.” The tone of his voice has change to something you have never heard from him before, something sad and vulnerable, the opposite of what he normally is.

“You are all that I have left, I’m not leaving. I know that I just showed up but from what little I was told, I believe you want to make things better.”

“Why are you staying?”

“I want to be here. Something inside of me is telling me I need to be here. I want a relationship with my family.”

“But…”

“No, I am staying and you can’t stop me. Maybe I can help too.”

“These are my mistakes, I need to atone for them, alone.”

“These are too big for you. You could barely look at me when I first got here. I know you feel guilty but you didn’t even know about me.

“But…. l”

“You don’t have to handle any of this alone, we can all work together but you have to let us in.”

“I…. I don’t know how.”

“How about this: let’s see if we can go back and try to have some dinner, as a family. We can try to talk things out, ok?”

“I guess.” The hero stands and he composes himself for a bit before you both head back down the hall. The tension in the air is still thick as you both sit down.

(Y/N): “I’m sorry if it feels like I am intruding into this family, I just wanted to find out if Endeavor is my father.”

F: “You look just time him; we can tell you are our brother.”

S: “We are sorry we acted the way we did you you, it is not your fault.”

N: Looking at his father “A warning would have been nice.”

E: “I am sorry I didn’t warn you about this when I invited you over. I knew you wouldn’t want to come over if you knew.”

N: “This is still a shock for us.”

F: “(Y/N), you said you didn’t know until recently?”

(Y/N): “My mom kept it a secret from me. She even had me learn Japanese since a child. I never second guessed who I looked until after she told me. She said Endeavor met her in America.”

S: “I didn’t know you went to America.”

E: “It was soon after graduating from UA, I wanted to learn more about the world of heroes and trying to learn from other pro heroes. There I met your mother at an agency, she was the secretary. She knew a lot of the ins and outs of hero work but one night things got a little off topic….”

N: “We don’t need to know the rest.”

S: “You left after that?”

E: “I’m ashamed to say yes. I didn’t know she had a child.”

(Y/N): “It’s ok. I don’t think she wanted you to know.”

S: “You’re probable right. But what makes you think we would accept you in our family?”

(Y/N): “I don’t expect you to anything that makes you uncomfortable. I only came to see if Endeavor was my father. After that, I didn’t really have anything in mind. I would be happy if I could be part of this family. I know it’s anything but perfect but he sounds like he is trying to change things for the better. I don’t know where I fit in this but I want to be included.”

E: “I don’t know how to apologize for everything I did to you all. I abandoned my first child, I neglected others, pushed others too hard. I was so selfish in everything I have done in the past 25 years. I wish I could go back and undo all of it. The amount of guilt I feel every day is almost unbearable but the only thing that pushes me forward is knowing that I need to make up for my mistakes. I don’t want forgiveness; I just want to atone.”

F: “We can see that.”

(Y/N): “What about me?”

F: “Give us time to think about this, all of this.”

(Y/N): “Take all the time you need, I waited 25 years to have a father and siblings, what’s a little more time.”  

[artificialqueens]

When We Went From Friends to This, Part 1: Week 1 (Branjie) - Writworm42

A/N: Fic summary: At the start of their first year of college, roomies Brooke and Vanessa have to quarantine together for two weeks. Fourteen days is a lot of time to bond, but it’s also a lot of time for things to get complicated.

For the lovely Ortega–merry super belated Christmas <3 Thank you Holtz for betaing & suggesting a song for the title, Bean for answering my questions about whether UK stereotypes are true, and Ortega for being patient fdhsjkf

Title from Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

TW for implied weed use

Day 1

“I still can’t believe you gotta go in-person to all these classes, you sure there ain’t a Zoom option?”

Vanessa snorts, and she’s pretty sure that Silky can hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the line. “For dance majors? Bitch, you know that ain’t gonna work.”

But Silky is too stubborn to be fazed by common sense. Instead, her voice gets a little more urgent. “We’re only first year. Start out with something that doesn’t need to be done in-person, then switch majors to dance once this is all over. C’mon, I can’t have my bestie dying Miss ‘Rona here!”

“Christ, you sound like my mom.” Vanessa huffs. “Look, the uni is being very careful, okay? Why else do you think I gotta quarantine for two weeks ahead of the start of term? Plus all clubs have been suspended and meals and showers are booked with time slots for each room. I’m literally seeing no one except the people in my classes and the bitch I’m sleeping next to.”

“But—“

“Listen, I’m at the dorm now, so I gotta go. I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Bye.” Silky’s begrudging send-off brings a flash of guilt to Vanessa’s chest, but only for a moment. Pushing her feelings aside, she hip-checks the door to the dorm building, trying to make her way inside without disrupting the large box she’s holding with one arm or the suitcase she’s trailing behind her with the other.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa Mateo, I think I’m supposed to be room 96?”

The suspiciously stoned-looking guy at the front desk barely looks up from the computer as he slides the keycard across his desk, and at first, Vanessa hovers, waiting for him to launch into a spiel about rules, but a moment passes without him saying anything, so she surges on. The building is a bit of a maze, its cement walls cold and drab despite the colourful posters plastered across it in a desperate attempt to make it more hospitable. By the time she finally reaches her room, she’s almost grateful that she’ll have to stay in it 24/7, given the impression the building and staff have left so far. No matter, though, right now, all she wants is to put down what she’s carrying and collapse onto her bed.

She shifts uncomfortably for a moment, trying to balance her box while also maneuvering her card towards the keypad, but the effort is unsuccessful–when she finally manages to tap the card, she’s met with another obstacle, having to actually open the door without any free arms.

It’s probably not the best impression to kick the door open and promptly drop almost all of your stuff before falling on top of it. Scratch that, it’s definitely not the best impression. Especially when Vanessa looks up at the owner of the voice that’s holding back laughter, asking if she needs help in a soft, calm twang.

Her roommate is tall, blonde, and nothing short of gorgeous. And even as she makes a motion as simple as offering a hand, Vanessa can tell that this girl is the picture of poise and grace.

“What’s your name?” The girl watches with piercing eyes as Vanessa dusts herself off, fighting off a fierce blush as she straightens up and catches her breath.

“Vanessa, but my friends call me Vanjie.” She extends a hand again, and this time, the girl seems rather shy as she takes it, nervously brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Vanessa. I’m Brooke.”

Day 2

Brooke, as it turns out, is the polar opposite of Vanessa–quiet and reserved, so introverted that Vanessa has to wrestle information out of her. What Vanessa learns about her is interesting - she’s a dance major too, she’s from Toronto, she decided to study here because she wants RAD training as well as to get trained in other styles. She plans to minor in costume design, having an affinity for and attraction to any pattern that involves leather or lace (a kinky detail that Vanessa, much to her shame and embarrassment, files away hungrily). She has two cats back home, Apollo and Henry, that she misses terribly. Everything else Vanessa knows, though, had to be acquired sneakily over their first night together, more observation and speculation than actually asking. Like how Brooke must be a fan of Schitt’s Creek , given that she put out a ‘ fold in the cheese ’ sign on her desk. Or how Lana is probably her favourite artist, because she has a weird habit of not checking if her air pods are actually connected to the school’s shitty bluetooth network and it’s always the first couple notes of Summertime Sadness that play from her laptop before she catches her mistake. Or how her ass is one of the best Vanessa’s ever seen, because Brooke has no shame changing in front of her–

She strikes that part from her mind almost as quickly as she thinks it in the first place. The important thing is, she’s got to spend two weeks with only Brooke to keep her company, and if they stay in this silence, it’s going to get very awkward very soon.

“So… How d’you like Scotland so far?” Vanessa starts, grimacing internally at how stupid the question sounds. But Brooke doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she smiles kindly as she looks up from her computer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear again.

“To be honest, I haven’t really seen much of it… Pretty much came right here after I came off the plane.” Her smile turns apologetic as her face flushes pink, clearly self-conscious about the lacklustre answer. That’s okay, though; Vanessa can still work with it.

“Probably a long flight, huh? What’d you do to keep yourself entertained? Or are you a plane sleeper?” Vanessa adds with a teasing grin, and much to her delight, Brooke laughs.

“Nah, I can never sleep on planes. Unless I knock myself out with Gravol or something, at least.” Brooke chuckles, giving a small wink. “I just read a bit, then the airline showed The Notebook, so I watched that.”

“I love that movie!” Vanessa gasps, “I swear I’ve probably seen it, like, three thousand times. It’s just so–”

“Romantic!” Brooke finishes. “The poor guy next to me must have hated me for all the crying I did.”

Her eyes are alight with excitement, and Vanessa can’t help but pick up on it, because finally , the perfect topic, and Brooke likes Vanessa’s favourite movie, and maybe she likes other stuff that Vanessa likes, and they can talk about that together, and–

“So what’s your favourite scene?” Brooke asks eagerly, and Vanessa claps her hands over her face.

“That’s the worst question to ask me, bitch!” Vanessa groans, but grins behind her hands when Brooke laughs, a string of apologies flowing between giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, I should’ve known.” Brooke puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Too many to choose, right?”

“Right.” Vanessa giggles a little too. “Although…” she brings herself up on her elbows as soon as the idea hits her, and for some reason, her heart skips a beat as she formulates the question, a rare flash of nerves hitting her square in the chest.

“Maybe a rewatch would be a good reminder?” Before she can verbalize what she’s thinking, Brooke beats her to the question, blushing again and chewing on her lip.

It’s cute, how shy she is, and Vanessa makes a mental note that she’ll have to help her new roomie break herself of those habits.

“Yeah, lets.” Vanessa smiles warmly, sliding off her bed to grab her laptop from her desk. “Here, we can use my computer.”

She’s only just grabbed the computer and turned around when she falters, realizing with a sinking dread what decision is next.

Either she has to invite Brooke onto her bed, or Brooke has to make room on hers.

It’s just a bed, it’s just a bed, it’s not like you’re inviting her to snog, it’s just sitting down to watch a movie…  

So maybe Vanessa’s never had anyone but her friends lounge on her bed before, and her friends certainly don’t make her feel as nervous as Brooke does. Maybe Vanessa’s bed is a little small and Brooke is a little pretty, and the thought of being that close together makes her mouth go dry. And maybe the sudden uncertainty in Brooke’s eyes, too, is imagined, or else doesn’t mean anything that Vanessa thinks it could mean, rejection or reciprocation or suspicion of what Vanessa’s feeling. None of that changes anything right now, because Brooke is smiling again, tapping the space beside her bed to beckon Vanessa over.

“C’mon, let’s watch. If you want, we can even try to find the director’s cut.”

Day 3

Vanessa’s fast-developing fascination with Brooke’s ass isn’t helped by the sight of Brooke stretching on the floor that greets her as she comes back from her shower.

“Oh, hey!” Brooke lifts her leg up into a needle stance, peering between her legs before shifting her weight onto one hand and waving to Vanessa with the other. Her hair is still wet from her turn in the showers, and her current position is causing stray drops of water to trickle onto her arms, making it all too easy for Vanessa to give into temptation and watch as the droplets course over each one of Brooke’s muscles.

Bloody Hell. Vanessa’s got to do a better job of keeping her hormones under control.

“Hey yourself.” She tries to keep her voice casual as she grabs a pair of PJs from her bedside drawer, turning away from Brooke to change.

It’s strange. Vanessa never used to be as shy as she feels now, self-conscious of her nakedness as she drops her robe and begins to re-dress. A few months ago, this would’ve been no problem at all; to be honest, she’s not sure it would be now if she had a different roommate. But with Brooke next to her, watching her or not watching her at all (she can’t decide what’s worse, really), it’s different. She can’t help but wonder what she must look like, what Brooke must see if she’s actually looking. What does it feel like, being in Brooke’s head? What does everything seem, looking through Brooke’s eyes?

But Brooke is comfortable changing around her, and even though there’s no actual rule that says so, Vanessa feels obligated to feel comfortable, too. Partially because if it’s a non-issue, then feeling embarrassed about it might fade. And if that fades, then so will the way she feels every time she lays eyes on Brooke at all.

Right?

Vanessa whips around quickly, the sudden, eerie feeling of being watched making her forget that she doesn’t have a shirt on yet.

“ Christ! ” Brooke hits the floor with a thud, flushing beet red as she scrambles to cover her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see–”

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.” Vanessa rolls her eyes and laughs, hoping that the light tone and faint smirk she forces herself to slap on disguises how secretly mortified she feels. And thankfully, the comment does work; the redness dissipates from Brooke’s face, and she giggles a little, though her gaze stays firmly planted on the ground until Vanessa slides on her t-shirt. Just like that, the awkwardness fades from the air, and things are back to business as usual as Vanessa begins to comb out her hair. Brooke finishes stretching, Vanessa goes to the half-bath to blow her hair dry. Brooke sits at her desk and types intently, Vanessa tries not to peek over Brooke’s shoulder to see who she’s talking to. Brooke stretches out on her bed to look at her phone, and Vanessa does the same to play around on hers.

“Oh, it’s our turn for dinner.” A reminder notification at the top of Vanessa’s screen alerts her to the time, and she shuffles up to slide on shoes and get going, only remembering what she’s wearing at the last minute.

“Gimme a second, we can go out like that together.” Brooke grins, swiping yet another strand of hair behind her ear as she drops her sweatpants and swaps them for a pair of pajama pants.

“Are you sure?” Vanessa frowns, but Brooke just shrugs, a wry smile spreading on her face.

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.”

Day 4

They do morning stretches together the next day, and Vanessa has to admit that lust gets pushed aside by jealousy the minute they slide into the splits. Vanessa can do them, even if she hates them–it’s not that she can’t. It’s not even that she’s inflexible, she wouldn’t have survived in dance up until now if she were. But Brooke? That girl is on a whole other level. She slides into the splits with no effort at all, falling into position almost instantly and yet extremely gracefully, then does the one thing Vanessa hates, because it’s the one stretch she can’t do. She grabs a high foam block and puts it under her front foot. And then, just when Vanessa thinks she can’t get shown up even worse, Brooke grabs a second block and slides that under, too.

God, Vanessa wishes she could hate Brooke. But Brooke is too sweet, too kind, and too encouraging to even hold her pretzel-like tendencies against her, especially when she turns to Vanessa and taps her foot, offers her tips on how to get herself to that level of flexibility.

Vanessa tries to tell herself that the way Brooke’s eyes seem to linger on her every few minutes is just that generosity, a teacher monitoring her pupil. But even after Brooke helps Vanessa slide a small book under her foot, elevating her leg just enough, the lingering continues, and it’s hard not to let wishful thinking–at least, she thinks that’s what it is–take over. And that feeling only gets stronger as they move to their next stretch, one where they’re toe to toe with their legs spread wide and Brooke is grabbing Vanessa’s hands to pull her hardly an inch away from her chest.

Is it just Vanessa, or is Brooke blushing? And is it just Vanessa, or are Brooke’s hands just a little sweaty under their softness, warm and gentle as if they’re trying to hold Vanessa with as much tenderness as they can? And is it just Vanessa, or has Brooke’s chest gone still, her breathing stopped until Vanessa straightens out again?

“Your turn.” Vanessa offers, pulling Brooke into the position she’d just been in, and from the way Brooke comes to a harsh, sudden, stiff stop, but her muscles don’t shake and her breathing doesn’t change, Vanessa can tell she’s holding back. Almost as if she doesn’t want to get too close.

Vanessa’s imagining it. She has to be imagining it. There’s no other explanation, not a heterosexual one, and Brooke is…

Come to think of it, Vanessa doesn’t know for sure. But she can’t ask, not now; it would be too strange. So instead, she pulls Brooke forward sharply, resisting the urge to giggle when the blonde grunts in surprise at her strength.

“No holding back.” Vanessa shakes her head, smiling far too warmly for Brooke not to know what this is really about. “You can trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Brooke smiles up at her, and then her muscles relax, and everything feels back to normal.

Day 5

“Truth or dare?”

Brooke turns to look at Vanessa, shifting to sit up as she smiles dubiously. They’re lying on Brooke’s bed together, pressed up against each other in an attempt to both fit in the small space of the double underneath the fuzzy, tickly cushion of Brooke’s top blanket. Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s skepticism, rolling onto her back to look up at her, grin wide on her face.

“C’mon, you know you want to. We can scroll Reddit later. Truth or dare?”

“Um…” Brooke crinkles her nose as she thinks, and Vanessa has to swallow the thought of how cute the blonde looks like that.

Although admittedly, the fact that she’s starting to hope Brooke keeps thinking isn’t just so she can watch the way Brooke’s brow furrows and muse quietly to herself about how seriously Brooke is taking this choice. Rather, it’s because she knows what she wants Brooke to pick, and the longer Brooke thinks, the more opportunity there is for Vanessa to hope she’ll pick up on the psychic signals she’s trying to send her.

Pick truth, pick truth, pick truth…

“Dare. But I’m not licking anything and I’m not going anywhere naked.”

Damnit.

Vanessa frowns, chewing on her lip as she tries frantically to think of a dare she can ask Brooke to do. It has to be appropriate, obviously, nothing too crazy like she might ask of Silky or her other, closer friends. But it can’t be boring, either—-if there’s one thing Vanessa doesn’t want to be in Brooke’s eyes, it’s boring.

Then, she thinks of the perfect thing. Something that might get at her truth question, that isn’t too high-stakes but definitely still has a bit of an ‘oh shit’ factor—exactly what you want from a dare.

“Dare you to prank call your last ex. On speaker. ” Vanessa smiles triumphantly, sticking out her tongue to tease her roommate. It’s foolproof—depending on the voice, Vanessa will know who Brooke has dated. And if she’s dating someone already, then surely she’ll say that, since admitting it is no problem.

Only, from Brooke’s face, there’s definitely a problem.

“I don’t want to play anymore.” Brooke heaves herself up off the bed, face becoming stony and cold as her eyes cloud over with something that Vanessa can’t quite decipher. Something mixed with anger, sure, but also something…

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. The magnitude of what Vanessa’s just asked of her new friend hits her like a train, and she feels like both the dumbest and worst person in the world at once. She called Brooke out, put her on the spot, and if she is queer? Pretty much just asked her to out herself. Which, unlike someone like Vanessa, who has a pan flag on her desk, not everyone is willing to do.

Brooke isn’t just feeling cornered, she’s feeling afraid.

“Aw, c’mon Brooke, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want—“

“I said I don’t want to play!” Brooke snaps.

There’s a beat, Vanessa’s own heartbeat the only thing she can hear amidst the crushing silence.

“Brooke—“ Vanessa tries again after a moment, her throat going dry as she tries to cut through the sudden tension, but Brooke just turns to her desk, scoops up her things and storms towards the door.

“I’m going for a walk. See you at dinner.”

She slams the door on her way out, and suddenly, getting an answer to Vanessa’s question doesn’t really matter anymore, because there’s no satisfaction in what a reaction that strong might mean. She drops her head in her hands, staying there for a moment before punching the mattress underneath her, rocketing up and grabbing her phone.

“Silk? Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry, I just… I fucked up.”

Day 6

They don’t talk about it at dinner, nor afterwards. They don’t talk about it the next morning, not during their morning stretches or at breakfast, either. It’s not that they don’t talk; they say good morning, ask each other questions about what time breakfast is, what time Brooke is going to be on a call with her parents. But that’s about as far as it goes; Brooke sticks to business, asking and answering questions in as few words as possible and avoiding Vanessa’s gaze at all costs. It’s torture, the tension eating away at Vanessa’s mind and stinging in her chest. She fucked up, and she fucked up bad , and despite Silky’s advice, she’s not so sure she can fix this.

Still, she supposes it won’t hurt to try.

Brooke is in the shower when Vanessa decides to sneak out, purse over her shoulder and mind ready for a mission. There’s a supermarket open within walking distance of the uni right now, and technically, she’s not supposed to leave campus at all except for emergencies. Which this is, so it should be okay, right? At least, that’s what she’ll say if she gets caught. She’ll have to be fast, and sneaky, and careful not to run into anyone who might ask where she’s going. Come to think of it, she hasn’t been for a walk on the grounds yet, not since arriving–how will it work? Will she have to plan a route? Give it to the front desk? Get a pass or something, to make sure she comes back within the allotted time? This could be dangerous, very dangerous…

“If you’re gonna go to the shop, can you get me a pack of cigs?” The stoner at the front desk doesn’t even bother looking up from whatever he’s doing on the computer as she tries to sneak by, stopping in her tracks at his voice.

Christ, really?

“Sure, whatever.” Vanessa rolls her eyes, a little irritated at how easy this actually is. So much for danger and adventure.

She comes back about an hour later, throws the guy his pack and launches that he owes her eleven over her shoulder, and skips back into her room with a jumbo bag of ketchup Lays in her knapsack.

“Peace offering?” Vanessa grins down at Brooke as the blonde’s mouth drops open first in surprise, then delight as she snatches the snack from Vanessa’s hands.

“Where did you find these?” Brooke squeals with delight as she tears the bag open, breathing in the sharp, slightly-sour smell that makes Vanessa’s nose wrinkle. Still, seeing the look of utter joy on Brooke’s face makes Vanessa so happy that she can’t help but smile, too.

“International aisle.” Vanessa sits on the edge of her bed proudly. “Figured you might like them, seeing as you always say you’re craving them.” She winks, and Brooke rolls her eyes, but giggles despite herself. But the moment passes as soon as it had come, and then they settle into silence again.

Come on, Vanessa. Just face the music. Apologize. She deserves that from you. Vanessa bites her lip, her hands curling into fists as she tries to force her heartbeat even again, because the longer the silence goes on, the more awkward it gets, the more she realizes that it’s now or never for her to make things right.

“Brooke–”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Brooke says quietly, her voice flat and lifeless and… scared, almost. Vanessa sucks in a breath, her chest sinking as she realizes what’s going on.

“Well… Do you want to?” Vanessa prods, but Brooke doesn’t even look up from the bag of crisps, which suddenly seem to be the most interesting thing in the world despite the dullness in the blonde’s eyes.

“Honestly, I’d rather we didn’t.” When she finally speaks up, her voice is barely above a whisper, and it’s enough to make Vanessa’s heart break.

Not just because she’s lost her chance to apologize–because she knows that tone, knows that look. Knows the hesitancy and caution behind it, the anxiety and the feeling of being trapped and overwhelmed. Knows what kind of revelation that voice and that look are hiding, and how the information Brooke is trying to avoid isn’t actually set in stone yet.

Jesus, she’s fucked up way more than she thought she had.

“Okay.” Vanessa finally nods, sighing deeply. “But if you do… I’m here, okay?”

Brooke hesitates for a moment, but when she does look up, her eyes are full of a gratefulness that’s surprisingly warm. “Okay.”

This time, when silence falls, it’s not awkward, but full of resolution.

“So…” Brooke finally breaks it this time, a slow smile spreading on her face, “They just put up the newest season of The Bachelor online, wanna watch it? We got snacks, after all.” Brooke waves her bag in the air, and Vanessa smiles.

“Shove over, mate. I wanna see what kinda mess the girls are this year.”

[pandoraswrld]

IT WAS JUST A LITTLE MISTAKE

— in which the girls finally debut, told from hime’s point of view

characters / nakano hime, hwang yewon, lee jangmi, the rest of the black rose ensemble, mentions of the girls’ manager

words / 2k

warnings / lots of shouting and swearing, guilt-tripping, arguing, someone slams their fist on the table and it’s just not nice

this is a rewrite of my first writing piece! not much has changed but it’s updated to be more accurate!

The first music show stage, an idol could never forget it. The rush you feel as the adrenaline pumps through your veins and the crowd roars on for you. For some it may be a bad experience, perhaps someone heckles you or maybe there’s no one there at all, but the Black Rose girls were determined to make sure that their debut stage would be the one to stand out.

“This is crazy cool!” Hime peers ahead at the stage just ahead of the girls. While the floor was mostly bare, the led screens in the background displayed falling diamonds all around the stage, accompanied with flashing lights of white and red.

Jangmi pulled all the girls into a close huddle, bringing their heads in to close off the outside world, “This is it girls, the moment we’ve all been waiting for and one we cannot mess up!”

Jangmi was always so determined, from the days she joined SM to the moments that would soon define her career. Hime noted their leader’s eyes twinkling with something she rarely saw in her anymore, passion, she could see passion building in the older girl and it made her smile just the tiniest bit.

“I want you guys to give it your all, this is our chance to show the public that we are stars!” She threw her hand into the circle, followed by the eight others, for one quick cheer of good luck, “Black Rose, fighting!”

All of a sudden the stage feels way bigger than it actually is, a weight lifting Hime down as she finds her position on the ground. There’s nothing to worry about, she tells herself in an attempt to exhale all of her worries, it’s not like this is her first time on a stage. She turns her head slightly to find Lyra’s eyes meeting hers, a soft smile gracing her face, calming Hime down only a little bit. 

Hime figures a little bit of fear is good, it ensures that you will always perform at your best. It was always a scary thought that something would go wrong, but that fear only helped boost her in hopes that her confidence will carry her through all the worries. And now she’s ready.

It surprises her a little when the audience immediately bursts into a round of cheers as the far-too familiar beat of Rise starts playing. She never knew they had that many people watching them so early on, probably thousands more heads hidden behind the darkness at the back of the studio. It felt good, it felt great, to be an actual idol. In that moment, it was everything any one of them had ever dreamed about and they finally achieved it.

It wasn’t long before Hime’s first line came up, an exciting spring in her step as her sickly sweet voice and a flip of her golden blonde hair did all the work. Everything seemed to be going perfectly, Lyra following Hime with her own airy vocals and then it was Yewon’s line. Hime’s eyes could only catch a glimpse of Yewon beside her but her heart dropped as she started to notice the girl fumble.

Yewon knew this dance, Hime knows she did. All of them had practiced it over and over, day and night, but Yewon always stayed behind just to put in that little bit more work. Neither of them know why her leg turned that way instead of the other, neither of them know why she’s the only one twisting left instead of right. Yewon’s mistake disrupts the synchronicity the girls had perfected and in knowing that she just moves on like nothing happened in order to quickly catch up to the rest of the girls, Hime hoping that the mistake would be quickly forgotten.

However both of them knew, she fucked up.

Hime can’t keep glancing back at Yewon as the song continues on, it would only disturb the performance even more. A feeling of anxiety settles in her chest as dread settles in Yewon’s, but they made sure no one would be able to tell as they painted their faces with peppy expressions and even wider smiles than before. 

Soon, the chorus started to blast through the speakers of the stage and all of them had an unmistakable energy as they continued to dance. The rest of the performance went well, screams from the crowd almost drowning out the sound of their own voice as all the girls reached their very last lines. All the girls wore massive grins for their fans before they were ushered off the stage in order to prepare for their next stage.

“That was amazing! I’ve never felt better!” Sera’s face was unbelievably happy, her and Juliet jumping for joy as the girls walked back to their dressing room. 

The girls had only one more performance left and the award ceremony until they could finally leave and get some rest. However, the next hour was not without its fair share of hostile tension and deafening silences between the girls and Jangmi, who had held a darkened expression and furrowed eyebrows ever since they left the stage.

Their manager, Hyesun, pulled Yewon aside at the end, most likely to talk to her about her mistake but Hime was too far away to catch a sound of what they were discussing. Hime knows Hyesun, she knows she’s not going to yell at Yewon or do anything to hurt her, she understands. Still, she can’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong because of this mistake, be it now or in the coming days, and the feeling was not aided by the painstakingly long journey home without the lively chatter of the other girls.

Finally they reached the dorms, although all of them felt uncomfortable together. Yewon sat on the corner of their navy sofa biting her nails and chipping away the pale pink nail polish along with it. Hime was the first to notice as the young girl sat nervously, immediately throwing an arm over her to embrace Yewon.

“You did fine.” Hime whispered into Yewon’s ear, placing a soft kiss to her temple. 

“Don’t lie to her Hime.” Jangmi said without even looking at the pair.

It felt as though the world stopped upon hearing Jangmi’s voice. It was so quiet and calm, but anybody could hear the poison and anger behind it, even Lyra and Aejung held onto each other in anticipation for what she would say next.

“She messed up and you know our trainers don’t allow mistakes.” The older girl finally turned around to Hime and Yewon, her face still gorgeous despite the scowling expression, “How could you even think of ruining our debut performance like that?”

“Jangmi, it was barely a mistake and she got back on track as fast as she could–“ Hime started before being interrupted by their leader.

“Don’t coddle her Hime, she fucked all of us over!” She slammed her fist down onto the kitchen counter, causing a few of the girls to jump.

“Have you met these netizens? They will find any problems with us and rip us to shreds, who knows what bad things they’ll say about us to drag our name, my name!” Jangmi’s voice raised considerably as her anger began to get the best of her, “And it will be all her fault!”

“Jangmi–” another girl tried to interfere but it was no use in the state she was in.

“No! What would our superiors think of us when even they were unsure if we should debut so early?” She pushed a hand through her thick, dark hair in frustration, groaning as she started to walk away from the rest of the girls.

Sera was the only girl to follow Jangmi. Hime wasn’t sure what the motivations behind Sera’s actions were, to be fair she never really did. Every one of those girls, even Hyesun, knew of Jangmi’s temperament and how bad things could get if she decided to take this frustration even further and yet Sera still spoke to her with hushed words. How dare Jangmi accuse her of coddling Yewon, Hime thought, not when she needed to be calmed down like she was a toddler.

“Jangmi, please, the yelling is over the top.” Hyebin joined Hime’s defence of Yewon, “I’m sure no one even noticed what she did.”

“It doesn't matter, we’re an SM group and these kinds of mistakes are unacceptable!” Sera was now holding Jangmi back from the girls as she started to rush towards them.

“C’mon guys, she’s right, who knows what they’ll say to us when we go back to the SM building?” Sera was now showing signs of actually giving a fuck when an exasperated sigh leaving her mouth. Sometimes Hime wished the girl cared more about anyone that wasn’t herself or Jangmi.

“She doesn’t have to scream at the poor girl, she’s only seventeen!” Lyra rebutted.

“And Juliet’s fourteen, yet she made no mistakes!” Jangmi rolled her eyes.

“How would you feel if someone got onto you like that over something so little?” Hyebin scoffed, turning her back on everyone else.

“They did.” She muttered under her breath, garnering some annoyed stares from the others at Jangmi’s sudden quiet tone.

“Oh really? Well then you should know exactly what it feels like!” Hyebin’s cheeks started to heat up, anger rising in her own body.

“Why don’t we actually look at the comments,” Aejung suggested with a tired face, “Prove that it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

There was another long wait, the girls’ centuries old laptop taking forever to load up. This time the silence was agitating, Hyebin and Jangmi sharing snarky looks at each other like children, whilst Yewon simply laid quietly beside Hime, she hadn't said a word in the last twenty minutes.

At last the naver page had loaded the Rise performance, the thumbnail of which featured all of them with such proud faces. Hime wished things could just be still like that moment. 

Aejung’s scrolling was almost agonisingly slow as she took the time to read each comment, the corners of her mouth turning up upon seeing compliments for herself. 

“See it’s mostly good!” Juliet exclaimed, sounding as though she couldn’t wait for this argument to be over.

Jangmi carelessly pushed herself in between Hyebin and Sera to see closer, doing her own scan as if she didn’t trust the words of anyone else. Dramatically, her finger pointed out one comment.

“So this is SM’s new girl group? They should just stick to Red Velvet, none of these girls look like idols!” Jangmi almost sounds proud to say such hateful words, it makes Hime scoff.

“If they remove that short girl the group will be perfect.” 

“I can’t believe they made a mistake on the debut stage, how can SM allow this?” 

“Stop!” Lyra raised her voice to interrupt Jangmi’s continuing comments, “We get the point, no need to shove it in our faces.”

“But that’s exactly what I have to do if any of us want to learn from this!” Jangmi’s arms were crossed, her vicious tone replaced with a more disappointed one all of a sudden.

“It was just a little mistake.” Yewon’s voice was small, barely even audible but everyone heard it.

All heads turned to the girl, her figure tiny and weak as she continued to bite her nails almost all the colour gone from one finger. Hime hated Jangmi for doing this to her, she didn’t deserve it with all of the hours she alone had put into finally making her debut.

“Clearly it wasn’t.” Was all Jangmi had to say before leaving the living room, slamming her bedroom door shut. It left an annoyingly loud echo.

“I’m sorry.” Yewon's voice started to choke, tears beginning to stream down her face. 

It was only the beginning of their career, yet somehow this moment felt as though it was the end. Everything they had put work into to get to this point, the years of training they’d suffered through, for one simple fight to ruin everything? Hime hated the idea of it but that’s exactly what it looked like.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Echo Chamber (Vergil x Reader) Chapter Two

Author’s notes: Sorry this came out so late--my laptop is having issues. But alas! We’re finally moving on to actually meeting Vergil, in which our reader feels a bit of gremlin activate.

Chapter Two

Why am I doing this? Why am I still going here?

The drive to Capulet was an hour long, not nearly enough time for you to get through all the thoughts and doubts banging around your poor cranium. Driving used to be cathartic, damn it. Something done to relax, to free oneself from troubles and worries in the pounding bass of the car’s stereo and through the wind flowing from open windows. Sadly, doing the former stopped being an option after the incident with your leg. Music didn’t provide relief anymore, only serving to make you feel lonely and nostalgic in ways that brought all the memories back. Which sucked, because listening to music used to be the best coping mechanism, one that made you so happy and free. It was why the band had been formed in the first place, why learning to play a guitar freed you from so much stress.

But silence had its own downsides. It left your apprehension free to dig in roots, watered by empty space between the sounds of the engine running and  wind gusting through open windows. Thoughts of where you were going, and with what purpose in mind left you growing steadily more anxious as the drive lasted on. That hour felt both like an eternity and far less time than needed, which left you feeling even more dazed about the whole situation. Was this really the best idea, coming to this place to meet absolute strangers in some jaded attempt to suffocate your own trauma? To bring inspiration and motivation back? It seemed so logical when Kraven said it, but now you were having doubts considering just how far-fetched it sounded. Maybe turning around was the proper thing to do, maybe continuing therapy would help in its own time. 

Problem was you didn’t want to disappoint your band members anymore.

They were being so patient, so caring. How many different scenarios had you turned down in this similar way? Getting to the midpoint of the process before turning tail and running back to the safety of your home. Too uncertain, too afraid. You were sick of crawling back into bed, heart aching and prosthetic feeling like a heavier and heavier weight when it was removed every night. If this followed through, if you managed to make it to this place and talk to the devil hunters working there...well, even when nothing came about it then at least you could say an attempt was made. It felt less like going to accept a job offer and more like scouting out some strange, mysterious unknown that promised to be the key to all the solutions. Strange, especially since it definitely wasn’t.

Anyway.

Before long you were turning off the interstate onto side streets, buildings rising up on either side. This part of town was far more Gothic in design, less of the modern housing from your neck of the woods. Many abandoned shop fronts passed by your car, houses that definitely didn’t look lived in for quite a few years. Yikes, this was a bit shifty. Capulet wasn’t very well known all things considered, one of the numerous towns either ravaged by poverty or demons themselves several years ago. Upside was that the rent on a lot of these buildings was dirt cheap, downside was that practically no one wanted to move into places of this caliber. Minus Devil May Cry itself, obviously.

You knew right away when the building approached, the bright red neon sign a far cry from everything else around it. There was plenty of parking space considering how very little people lived in the area, your car coming to a slow halt right in front of the store and settling while you tried to calm down. Engine off, deep breaths taken--you could do this, right? This was definitely the place, as off-putting and strange it appeared to be. Honestly, what was to be expected from the devil hunting headquarters? A church? Normal house? An office building? There was no handbook for this sort of thing, and you made the mistake of setting up expectations in the first place. 

Regardless, you tried to swallow down the hesitation and worry in a desperate attempt to build yourself up. Kraven had expectations for you, they all did. And each moment you waited was another moment everyone’s carriers were forced to stay on hold. Interests would wane, fan support would eventually fade with time if you weren’t careful. And with the popularity of Eidolon’s Fall being on the rise at the time...this setback needed to be taken care of, and fast. Your hesitations be damned, this wasn’t happening anymore.

You just wished your dumb head would listen.

Self-deprecation isn’t helping, The reminder felt firm despite the glum thoughts, your hand reaching for the door handle and popping it open with a firm click, Time to wake up and face the music, kitten. This is meant to help me, remember?

You kept trying to tell yourself that as you left the solace of your vehicle, one hand gripped tightly on the cell phone and the other a fist at your side. Baby steps--only way to go is forward, right? Would be easier if that particular limb wasn’t so god damn heavy. You winced as your weight settled on it, looking down briefly after shutting the door to make sure it wasn’t obvious that it was a prosthetic. Between the boots, leggings, and the length of your jacket...your legs looked downright normal. My legs ARE normal, you corrected yourself, frowning at the train of thought and feeling a bit disappointed at its course, losing a leg doesn’t make me strange in the slightest, it doesn’t make me different. 

That was the truth, you knew it well.

The doubt managed to be swallowed down a little bit, your heart thudding quietly against your ribs as you locked the doors on your vehicle. Shifty neighborhood, fairly okay car--no chances taken. No offense to Devil May Cry of course, you just didn’t really want to risk losing anything inside, like the various CDs or essentials that were kept in the back seat in case of emergencies.

Regardless, you managed to pry yourself away from the symbol of familiarity, feet dragging as you approached the double doors of the building itself. The sun was still out, half obscured by clouds that seemed to hint at a storm coming later, which wasn’t a surprise--your phone had long alerted you to the potential weather threat, so this definitely wasn’t a bad omen. Screw that, you didn’t fall into such silly superstitions, especially not when some of your best days happened during storms. Weather brought forth so much inspiration, after all.

At least...it used to. 

You sighed, stepping up to the doors and pausing as you debated whether to knock or not. Was this the kind of establishment that one could just stroll into? What if you did and caught someone in a situation that wasn’t yours to see? Christ, your head just would not settle down at all, playing through every bad scenario and making you want to turn and walk back to the car. You were never like this before, never full of so much hesitation and worry. Just knock and get it over with, the worst you’ll get it embarrassment. You can live with that, right? Seemed easy enough, and once upon a time it would have been.

There was faint music playing within, someone was definitely home. You swallowed, raising the hand that wasn’t holding your phone and rapping it firmly on one of the double doors. 

There was an audible sound of someone moving inside, the music quieting down a bit. A brief pause filled the air, making you a tad bit more nervous before a voice called from within.

“Come on in…!”

Well, there was some relief. You let out a large gust of air, steeling your nerves a bit more before gripping the door handles and pulling them open. Forward and steady, you reminded yourself, staring around warily as you entered the new area with a hint of curiosity mingling in the mix. This place was definitely not what you expected, not by a longshot. Nor was the person waiting inside, sitting at a messy desk with his feet kicked up in a tell-tale posture of laziness. It certainly didn’t look like the business of a demon hunter, nor did he seem like one himself--the whole space was on the messier side, pizza boxes stacked on the floor near the desk and items scattered here and there. Any semblance of order seemed incredibly lacking, a thin layer of dust visible on the floor as you let the doors close at your back. 

You blinked owlishly, meeting the gaze of the apparent demon hunter as he stared with a hint of surprise. It was pretty clear you weren’t what he was expecting, but then again your own expectations weren’t met either. A far cry from priests or what your mind had conjured, this man looked a bit rugged, wearing a black shirt covered by a red leather jacket with black jeans. Unshaven, hair a bit tousled but face handsome nonetheless.

Hell, the vibe he carried reminded you of some of the older musicians you had met while touring--like a rugged metal guitarist, one with a lazy smirk on his lips and an air of non-commitment as he sat up to eye you curiously in the doorway. You straightened up, shoulders firmly squared and heart hammering lightly at the fear of the unknown as you struggled to find anything to say in greeting.

Luckily, he picked up the slack. Head tilted to the side a bit, mouth quirking up in a grin as he said in a friendly tone, “Hey there--how can I help you, sweetheart?”

His casual use of things like sweetheart made you a bit wary, but he didn’t seem to mean it in a condescending or creepy way. There was a comforting note in his expression, like he could sense how nervous you were to be there in the first place. Which wasn’t shocking, you were frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“U..um…” You cleared your throat, taking a few measured steps forward and trying to find your sense of manners again. This was a business, and you were setting up to be a bad first impression, “I saw an ad in the paper for secretary work, so...I came to ask about it, if that’s okay?” 

Could have called first, but you were afraid doing so would throw off the burst of confidence it took to get here.

Regardless, the stranger didn’t seem bothered. Merely surprised, mouth popping open and brows threatening to touch his hairline as he took in your words. It confirmed your suspicions a bit--that was the face of a man who didn’t really expect anyone to answer the request of said ad, and it showed plain and clear. Something about that was kind of funny, and a bit concerning all things considered--why put it in the paper if they weren’t expecting someone to apply for the position? Then again...working for a demon hunting company did seem a bit far fetched, not to mention the risks that would come with it.

“Really?” He asked incredulously, scratching the back of his white-haired head as the chain underneath him squeaked a bit, “Well...huh. Damn. Uh--” The man stood up, grunting when the motion made a few of his joints pop in protest. It didn’t take much to guess that he must have been sitting there for a while. You watched warily as he started rummaging around the desk, looking for items unknown while continuing on, “Didn’t really think anyone would show up to be completely honest. You got any prior secretary experience?”

Cutting right to the chase? Was this an interview? You shifted in place a bit, fingers tapping rhythmically on the back of your phone as you hedged, “Uh...Technically? Not in an official capacity, but I learned how to organize files when taking care of my Grandmother’s legal affairs after her passing.” 

And when the band was still starting out, you handled all the legal funds with Kraven’s help until Mathius was hired on. But this stranger didn’t need to know that yet.

He released a little “huh” at your response, shrugging his shoulders as he pulled out a file from a drawer. There was a thoughtful expression on his face for a brief moment, like the white-haired man was deep in thought before a grin spread across his lips.

“Good enough for me--you’re hired.”

...What?

Shock could not have been any more obvious in your expression, mouth popping open and eyes staring at him in absolute disbelief. Did he just hire you on the spot, with barely any information given and no paperwork? Your idiot brain left behind anything a normal job might need to even fill out an application, maybe on purpose if you were being completely honest. Hell, he didn’t even ask you name and was already declaring that the job was yours to have. Were you hallucinating, or had that really happened?

Your mind completely scrambled, leaving you floundering for a decent response but not managing a single one at all. Honestly, there was nothing to base this scenario on, no other job you had over the years being gained in such an easy, bizarre way. You had been prepared to come here, maybe chat a bit, be turned away after having no references and no papers, but...no such luck.

This was so fucking weird. The man didn’t seemed phased by your shock and lack of response, turning away and starting to pull out files from random locations to set them on his desk. The lack of organization was almost disgusting, papers strewn about and things littering the table top in a messy manner. You needed to get yourself together, he clearly had a game plan already in mind while you were lacking in several bits of information. There were so many questions, so many things you needed to say after him just hiring you on like that, but your tongue felt glued to the roof of your mouth.

“U..um…!” You stammered, hurrying up to the desk and clearing your throat meaningfully, “E...excuse me, but are you sure…? You never even asked my name--Hell, I didn’t bring any paperwork with me, no references…!”

Your inquiries didn’t phase him, summoning forth another shrug of his broad shoulders as his calm eyes turned to meet yours.

“What’s your name, kid?” He sounded amused, like he was asking the question just to appease you in some strange way. There was a hint of mischief in his eyes, one that you weren’t sure made you uneasy or not yet.

Regardless, you bit down the exasperation, tone a bit confused as you replied dutifully, “M...my name is Y/N.”

“Good,” He smirked, extending a hand over his desk to shake yours in greeting, “You can call me Dante, I started this humble little establishment myself so I guess that makes me your boss. As long as you don’t mind being paid under the table, paperwork shouldn’t be an issue.”

Wow, this was all very shocking. You shook his hand in a daze, his grasp warm and firm before he turned away again. Dante, the founder of Devil May Cry--he was definitely bizarre. Paying you under the table was just an added oddity, especially with how cut and dry the whole scenario had been. Most companies wanted a paper trail, wanted to do background checks to make sure that they weren’t hiring a criminal or something like that. Such things clearly didn’t extend to Dante, the white-haired male going about his task like it was no big deal. Kraven was absolutely going to lose his mind when you told him about this, that was for sure.

“Th...that’s no issue,” You replied meekly, holding your phone to your chest and trailing behind him a bit as he moved about the room, “Um...Are you sure this is okay? To just hire me on the spot like this? It’s just a bit shocking, is all, you barely asked me questions and I...um…”

Why were you contesting this so heavily? This was a job you acquired with little to no effort. Most people would kill for such an easy opportunity. 

But you had a job--the issue now was breaking past the trauma that kept you from it.

Dante let out a little hum at your question, turning that charming smile on you again as he chuckled, “Trust me kid, in this kind of business you learn not to ask questions,” The man sized you up for a moment, leaning lazily against the front of his desk and stroking the stubble on his chin, “Like why a lovely lady such as yourself would want to work as the secretary for a demon hunting company in the first place, right? Just as long as the work gets done I don’t really mind, my brother is the one who insisted we hire someone to get things more organized in the first place.”

Brother? There was another person like him here? 

You paused at his words, feeling a bit fidgety again as his gaze held yours for a moment. What he said confirmed what the article had claimed, what everything had mentioned about Devil May Cry in general--this was in fact a demon hunting business, which was absolutely bizarre in its own right. Not to mention his inquiry about you, and what made you want to take the job in the first place. It hadn’t been apparent before that such a thing would be strange or suspicious, but in retrospect...yeah. Yeah it was. There were plenty other places that were far more normal and less dangerous looking for work, yet here you were with your own agenda in mind. It almost made you feel guilty, like all of this was under false pretenses.

But you had come this far, and you couldn’t very well turn back. Nor could you tell him the truth of the matter, the truth lodging in your throat like barbs and refusing to move.

Instead you let out a light sigh, rubbing your arm idly as you mumbled in reply, “I see...Well, I do have my reasons but...they’re a bit personal. I swear I’m here to work hard, I just...” You hesitated, eyes raising to meet his again as you continued softly, “Do you... really hunt demons…?”

Your question seemed a bit perplexing to him, if not amusing. One of those white eyebrows raised again, arms crossed over his broad chest in a display of bulging muscles. You know, for someone who seemed to consist only on a diet of pizza--based on the numerous boxes on the floor--he was surprisingly fit. It did  make sense that he would be physically proactive if it meant fighting creatures of the night and otherwise. And judging by his age, Dante must have been at this gig for a long time. Underneath all that lazy energy was a sense of tiredness, one that touched his eyes and the wrinkles around them. What kind of hardships came with a job like this? How long had he spent fighting demon kind?

Dante let out a low hum at your question, reaching into the drawer of his desk to pull out twin pistols for your view. Honestly, you had never touched a gun in your life, the closest encounter to one being the weapons cops and military used during the concert attack. Seeing some now felt strange, especially with how fancy these particular pistols were. Black and white, fairly big in size and custom made if your eyes were certain. It was almost...beautiful, even to someone who wasn’t particularly impressed with firearms and knew practically nothing about them. There were images engraved on the handles, showing the cameos of beautiful women.

“Demons in the flesh,” He confirmed, palming the white pistol a bit and holding it out for your inspection. Hesitation filled your expression, one hand reaching out to gingerly clasp the weapon and feel its weight. The words for Tony Redgrave were engraved on the side, the gun looking a bit old fashioned all things considered, “She’s put lead in the skulls of more monsters than I can count, for many many years.”

You released an inquisitive huff of air, hurrying to hand the weapon back for fear of touching anything that should set it off. Your knee-jerk reaction made Dante chuckle, sticking the guns into holsters behind his coat and settling back once more.

“Not much of a fighter, are ya?” He observed, pushing off from the desk and heading back around to another pile of files.

Something about that way he said that made you bristle a little internally, head raised high as you replied, “Depends on what the fight is. I may not know how to shoot a gun, but I’m not the lie down and take it type either.” You had been through hell and back, fighting tooth and nail to get your life back to normal. That had to count for something.

I’m not down for the count yet.

Dante nodded once at that, seeming impressed by your firm tone and determination, “Ain’t that the truth--regardless, maybe I’ll teach you how to fire a gun sometime.” He set down another stack, finally satisfied by his own efforts before walking by and patting you on the shoulder, “Hope you’re ready to get started ‘cause I’ve got a few errands to run.”

Oh no, the shock was back again. You stared at him incredulously, mind blanking out as he started to head for the door. Was he being serious? The devil hunter expected you to start now, and worse he was just going to leave you here alone after knowing you for less than ten minutes? It sent your head spinning, mouth open and various sounds of disbelief pouring out as you managed to grab him by the sleeve of his jacket to halt the departure. You hadn’t even been planning on getting the job, and now it was apparently your first day? What order did he want the files in? And where did he want you to put them? So many questions, too many questions.

“Wait!” You protested, meeting his calm gaze as it turned to meet yours, “You’re starting me out already? And just leaving me in your place alone?” Are you insane? Was implied at the end of that sentence, but not spoken aloud.

It didn’t need to be--judging by the smirk the white-haired man wore, he knew damn well what you meant.

“Unless you have prior engagements, yeah,” Dante quirked his brow, side-eyeing you as your expression blanked. There was literally nothing else on your schedule, and he somehow picked up on that right away, “I don’t mind you getting a feel for the place by yourself--the doors will be locked while I’m out so it’ll just be you, kiddo.”

Are you kidding me?

You decided that the nickname “kiddo” was even worse than sweetheart, and far more annoying. But there was no time to complain about it, especially when Dante seemed hellbent on leaving. I was maddening, head refusing to conjure up any viable excuses to counter his words, not in its frazzled state. And to be quite honest anything that could be thought of would be an outright lie, you had zero prior plans and had spent a good majority of your time in the house moping. Well, outside of Kraven, Boris, and Celine forcing you places for events, or hanging out at Kraven’s house for funsies. To be completely honest, this was the longest time you spent not in the house in a very...very long time.

So you blanked again, fingers slipping from Dante’s jacket as you managed meekly, “Is there...any order you want the files put in…?”

Christ, I’m becoming a pushover.

And Dante knew it. A grin tilted his lips, eyes alight with mirth as he said in a lazy reply, “Eh...by date I guess? Whichever way you want to is fine by me.”

With that, he started forward again, hands pushing open the double doors as he left you standing in the foyer in a state of confusion. The white haired man turned partially, giving you a two finger salute before slipping his way outside.

“Good luck, kid. I’ll be back soon--hold down the fort for me, will ya?”

With that, the double doors closed behind him with a solid thud, accompanied by a loud click as he locked them. Suddenly alone, terribly so in an unfamiliar place, unfamiliar neighborhood, unfamiliar territory. You were still rooted to the spot, heart pounding in your chest as the silence stretched on for a solid minute after his quick departure. Flabbergasted didn’t quite cover it, disbelieving didn’t either. Meeting Dante was like meeting a very lazy hurricane, one that seemed calm and chill at first glance before sending one rolling and tumbling in its raging winds. You were still dazed from the encounter, the whiplash of it making you plop down on the floor in that spot and hold your head forlornly. Christ, Christ--what had you gotten yourself into? This place was bigger than expected, and now eerily quiet to boot with you sitting there alone.

At least...you hoped that was the case. No one else lived here, did they? He did mention a brother, but gave no indication on whether or not said brother was home other than saying that it was “Just you”. God damn, if he was anything like Dante you were in for a bad time, the man was a bit much to handle at moments. You released a hefty groan, hands running up your cheeks and carding through your silken locks as you tried to gather the thoughts back together. Well, this mess was yours to handle--a change had come, and all you could do was roll with it. Everything else in your life had been that way, so why not this too? All the strange circumstances aside, the files lined the desk and floor in unceremonious heaps, no order involved.  Best thing you could do was get started.

“I’m an idiot,” Your voice sounded so loud in the quiet space, despite how loud the statement was murmured. You stood up, groaning at the renewed weight on your prosthetic as it carried you to the desk where most of the mess lie in weight, “Kraven is not gonna believe this.”

You checked the time on your phone, debating calling the supportive male to tell him about the entire encounter but thinking otherwise when the time came into view. He and Boris would be going to the Zoo about now, so maybe a text would suffice. You sat down in Dante’s chair, wincing when it squeaked loudly in protest. Old, rickety, definitely in need of a replacement--It was paid no mind, your thoughts focusing on the gentle tap of fingers as you typed out a very carefully worded message to Kraven, because any wrong things said might spurn the vocalist to call you despite his date. And that was definitely not what you wanted.

“Made it there okay, big boy. I uh...I already got the job, apparently. It’s a bit wild--I’ll tell you about it later. Smooches.” 

You felt satisfied enough with what was typed out, setting the device down on your desk and eyeing the stacks of paper awaiting you. There was certainly a lot to do, and by the looks of it there was no good place to start it. Dante did not seem the type to have a system of any kind, so there was bound to be inconsistencies. Which was only proven correct when you lifted a file, reading the writing scribbled on the front before appearing at another. One was dated--the other was not. Another had locations, others didn’t. A growing sense of exasperation started to temper your already confused thoughts, adding in a layer of anxiety as the files started to be spread out one after the other. Honestly you knew Dante for less than an hour and you already wanted to shake him a bit.

Son of a bitch. 

“I am filled with regrets, captain.” You muttered to no one in particular, shrugging off your jacket before sliding down onto the floor to lay out files. Your eyes scanned the surrounding space, annoyance spiking at the mess that littered the wooden floor. Okay, first things first--the pizza boxes and dust had to go. The files were a seemingly impossible task at the moment, so despite not being a cleaning lady you didn’t mind straightening up the space a bit to ease the stress of what was going on.

You stood back up, looking around and wondering just where the hell Dante would keep a broom, if he even owned one. Not likely. 

This man is a goblin.

Your search took you through the lower floor, an impromptu tour that you didn’t necessarily expect to have. The main area lead back into what appeared to be a small living room and hallway, a leather couch resting against a far wall across from a television. You noticed right away how basic everything seemed, lacking in any personal or family photos. A shelf held some strange knickknacks, but they were foreign to you entirely. Even the hallway walls didn’t wear anything minus a couple posters--one of a scantily clad woman, and an old rock band. You recognized them--they were before your time, but their music was fairly nice. They were paid barely any mind on your way to the kitchen, a sigh of relief leaving your lips at the sight of a broom cupboard on the far wall. 

This room was also a bit of a mess, but you weren’t touching that quite yet. Dante’s diet of pizza was growing more and more likely, much to your consistent dismay and heavy disgust. You tried to ignore it, making your way to the cupboard and praying to every known god and goddess that the absolute disaster of a man owned cleaning supplies of any kind--which, luckily, he did. Inside the little, dusty room was a small vacuum and broom, shelves lined with full bottles of cleansers that didn’t look touched at all. It made sense--someone must have bought these with cleaning in mind but fell short of the actual task, whether that was Dante or not you weren’t sure. Regardless, what was needed got taken and the rest was left in case of future uses.

“Captains log, day thirty seven,” You said to yourself, setting about the task with vigor and starting to collect any garbage found into a trash bag, “My hubris has finally led to my downfall, and now I’m a cleaning lady.”

I’m also a bit crazier than I thought.

There was, obviously, no one to answer. But it made you feel better, damn it.

Time started passing quickly as you cleaned, straightening anything your hands could find and dusting every available surface. The repetitive tasks left time for wandering thoughts, but held enough attention to make sure things didn’t go off the rails too badly. Most of them collected around your new boss, wondering what kind of person he was and how many years were spent demon hunting. The occasional weapon hung on the walls on plaques, either things Dante once used himself or items acquired from various jobs. Between that and the neon signs, the room started to actually have a nice vibe when it grew cleaner and cleaner. The atmosphere reminded you of a bar, or various band hangouts that had been bounced between over the years of playing and touring.

There was something very cathartic about cleaning a very messy space, a deep sense of satisfaction filling you after the last swish of a mop traveled over hardwood. You pulled your hair into a ponytail at some point,  making your way across the room bit by bit.The files were safely stacked on top of the two filing cabinets and the now-clean desk, waiting as the next hurdle for you to get over. It would have to stew for a bit, at least until the floors dried and the garbage bags were dragged away. You set about that next, peering around for any place to leave the bags that wouldn’t inconvenience anyone--the kitchen was the only safe place, bags placed in the broom cupboard and a reminder set on your phone to tell Dante about it. The following half hour was spent tidying up the kitchen and small living room, another two bags added to the mix and rooms much cleaner than they were before.

I can’t believe I came here, applied for a secretary job, and ended up cleaning their business. Not that you minded--this was your choice, after all. Plus there was nothing really terrible about cleaning, it was just...relaxing. The exercise felt good on your legs, the prosthetic feeling a bit too warm at times but there would be time to air it out later. The sensation was nice, akin to ripping off your bra after wearing it all day in the heat. It was the one thing you promised yourself upon starting back toward the first area you cleaned, intending to check on the wet floors and see how they fared.

But before you could return to the clean room, a clicking sound rang out through the hallway, alerting you to someone opening the main doors to Devil May Cry. You paused in the living room, worrying for a moment that Dante may have returned to see you made zero progress on the files, but impulse cleaned his house. It hardly mattered, but it was still a worry, one that grew as you hurried into the main room to see who had entered through the double doors. But much to your sudden anxiety, a low voice was muttering before you reached the doorway, one that definitely wasn’t the devil hunter from before. Low, a bit more nasal and sharper in tone--it was released in a low, disbelieving growl that still managed to reach your ears despite how quiet it was.

“What the hell happened in here?”

His tone was incredulous, absolutely disbelieving. Honestly? You couldn’t blame him.

Reaching the doorway, you paused and stared at his face, nervousness spiking considerably as you took in the newcomer with fascinated eyes. He was tall, just as tall as Dante and carrying an aura far more intimidating--this had to be his brother, there was no doubting that silvery hair, eyes a cold blue that was a bit closer to grey and face handsome in a sharp, defined way. They definitely had good genes, that was for sure. You weren’t oblivious to the beauty of your fellow human beings, but it rarely made you stop and try to collect yourself in their presence. Maybe it was the air of hostility this stranger carried? Or perhaps it was the sword attached to his hip, clothing dark and definitely not your average everyday outfit.

A sharp jacket hugged his frame, a lined vest underneath and dark slacks on his legs. Formal wasn’t quite the word to describe it, but he was definitely dressed imposingly to Dante’s laid back jeans and leather jacket. Clean shaven too, less like a goblin and more like seeing a predator walk into the room and bringing that sense of danger with him. Speaking of danger--his eyes snapped up at the sound of your footsteps, meeting your startled gaze in the doorway with not a spec of recognition, which was normal considering he never met you before. You froze instantly, unsure of what to do or say considering that you were a stranger in his home. Dante definitely wasn’t the type to call ahead and warn him, that was glaringly obvious. This man was definitely more on edge than his brother, fingers twitching to the hilt of his sword in an instant and confirming that you needed to do something before he attacked.

Just typical of my luck.

“U...um…” You managed to get out, clasping your hands in front of you in a show of non-violence as you continued quietly, “Y...you must be Dante’s brother--”

“Who are you?” His biting hiss cut you off, your shoulders jolting when the words seemed to whip across the room like a javelin, “What are you doing here?”

You were getting to that, before he interrupted. Christ, today was shaping up to be a doozy.

A sigh left your lips, last hints of patience waning and body slumping against the doorway a bit as you replied in exasperation, “My name is Y/N--Dante hired me as a secretary, so that’s why I’m here. But I spent some time cleaning first so I could have space to lay out the files, especially since they have no rhyme or reason to them.”

The growing annoyance in your voice was apparent, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, a scowl marred his already frowning lips, hand slowly releasing the sword’s hilt much to your relief. Well, that was one hurdle past. It would be a lot easier to talk without the threat of death looming overhead.

“Secretary?” He growled incredulously, narrowing those chilly eyes on you and sounding very impatient, “I was never informed of this--when were you hired?”

“....Today.” It didn’t sound true even to your ears, but the exhaustion in your tone definitely gave away just how tiring the interactions with Dante had been. He was a man best experienced in doses, at least in your opinion. 

This didn’t seem to be the answer his brother wanted, that scowl growing into a look of pure irritability as he pinched the bridge of his nose. As if the action would somehow bring forth patience, or the return of sanity in some form or another. You shifted anxiously in the doorway, eyeing the floor underfoot to make sure it was dry--this newcomer was walking all over it, but his shoes seemed clean enough. Now all that was left to do was those files, which you were anxious to return to if the chance was given. But something about Dante’s brother made you wary of sudden movements, he was way too twitchy with that Katana on his hip.

“Let me see if I’m correct,” The man growled, tone thick was annoyance and aggravation as he leveled his cold eyes on you again, “My brother hired you today, with no prior interviews to my knowledge. Left you here in the building alone with our possessions, and then proceeded with his job for the day without informing me of a single thing.”

Something about the way he spoke of you was very offensive, like you were already labeled as a petty thief in his eyes. That certainly would not fly despite how correct all his words were, and now validating it was to know that someone else found it all equally ridiculous.

You crossed your arms, one hip jutting out slightly as you protested, “I would never steal something…!” Your tone made his eyes snap back to your face, a flicker of surprise in those cold eyes as you continued, “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get back to work.”

It was only then did you approach the files stacked on the desk, deciding to ignore his presence after such a blatant implication was thrown your way. You couldn’t decide who was the better brother, this one or Dante, but it scarcely mattered. He kept his eyes trained on you, watching your form settle on the now-clean floor and start pulling down stack upon stack of sealed paper. Something about your actions seemed very strange to him, a look of disbelief making its home in his fierce expression. It was a shame that he was so rude--a pretty boy like that could definitely get through the world on modeling alone, or if he had any music talent girls and boys alike would fawn all over his fierce type.

You shook off the thought, trying to find some semblance of order within the files and failing to find a single one. Christ, the need and want to shake Dante was growing with every passing second. How did this place even begin to fare as a business with no semblance of order at all? The incident of the Qliphoth must have forced Dante’s hand a bit--you were willing to bet they could slide on buy on freelance work before then, but now that the government was involved a paper trail was a thing of necessity.

Much to your growing confusion, Vergil did not move from the doorway, continuing to watch you with a frown marring his lips. You did not meet his gaze, just watching out of the corners of your eyes and wondering just what the hell he wanted. This was all growing so very tiring, your leg overly warm and achy from walking around a couple hours. If this persisted much longer, you were going to lose every semblance of sanity and maybe get yourself killed. But before either of you could say anything, the doors behind him swung open again--part of you hoped it would be Dante returning, but two more strangers walked through the door instead.

A man and a woman this time--both complete strangers to you. Dante didn’t warn of them stopping by, but they seemed familiar with this place and with the man who previously insulted you.

Oh dear.

“Afternoon, Vergil,” Greeted an older, dark-skinned male, tipping his hat lightly in the brother’s direction in a less-than-friendly manner. He had a cigar between his lips, wearing a snazzy suit and seeming unimpressed by Vergil’s impressive scowl, “Glad to see you’re cheerful as always.”

Vergil didn’t reply, interrupted by the woman standing in the doorway before any words could leave his mouth. It occurred to you then that she was staring at you, her irises meeting your worried ones for a brief moment across the open space. They were pretty--one green and one red. She herself was very beautiful, wearing a cute outfit of shorts and a blouse with thigh high boots--Dark hair, pale skin. Fair. She looked surprised to see you sitting there cross-legged, and even more so when her eyes traveled around the spotless room with complete disbelief. You couldn’t blame her for that.

“Who are you?” She asked, causing the two men to look at you now. Having all the attention in the room on your person wasn’t unfamiliar, but it still somehow made you nervous, “And what the fuck happened in here? I’ve never seen this place so...livable.”

Before you could muster a coherent reply, the dark-skinned man let out a light chuckle, walking toward you and extending a hand to help you up from the floor. It was accepted easily, your form rising up and jolts popping slightly with the motion.

The man’s words made you relax considerable, the only one there who seemed to have any semblance of knowledge, “Ahh, you must be the new secretary--Dante called to inform me of your presence,” He looked around the room as well, seeming impressed and wearing a bemused grin, “You’re a miracle worker, I can’t imagine having the patience to touch this nasty place.”

Vergil scowled again at his words, aggravation flashing in those cold orbs as he was met with the realization that Dante made sure to warn this man, but not him. Why that was the case, you would never know.

Regardless.

“To be honest, cleaning it was a blur and I barely remember it,” You replied with a weak laugh, the day’s exhaustion catching up now that there seemed to be someone who was actually informed of the situation, “My name is Y/N, by the way...I did mean to organize the files first, but...they’re just a mess.”

“Morrison, pleasure to make your acquaintance” The man, now dubbed Morrison, replied with a look of pure pity at your situation. This was definitely a human being well used to Dante’s bullshit by now, “How about Lady and I give you a hand? I usually find Dante all of his work, and she’s helped out on several of them.”

You paused, meeting her curious eyes again and hesitating. This was meant to be your job, right? Maybe it was wrong to drag other people into it, especially considering the fact that they just got here. 

But she seemed to read the guilt on your face, planting a hand on her hip and releasing a light sigh into the clean-smelling air, “Whatever, fine by me,” Much to your relief, she managed a friendly smile, winking her red eye at you as she added, “Nothing more fun than a group effort, right? We can chat a bit while we wait for that dumbass to return.”

Your shoulders relaxed considerably, heart pounding against your ribs in the remaining throes of anxiety in worry. Thank god there was finally a jumping off point for all this paper--you honestly didn’t know how to manage without the help of obvious professionals. Morrison pat you once on the back, chuckling lightly as he strolled toward Dante’s chair sitting in front of two stacks, a cloud of cigar smoke following in his wake. Lady met your gaze again, seeming very interested in you for whatever reason. Maybe it was the fact that you managed to clean up the main room of Devil May Cry, or maybe there wasn’t a lot of girls usually working here? Whatever the reason, a couple friendly faces was nice after the scare that came from Vergil moments prior.

Speaking of Dante’s brother, the surly man stalked past you on his way out of the room, sparing no passing glance in his retreat. You found yourself watching as he went, eyes lingering on the way the devil hunter moved--so strange, precise in every motion and fluid like a predator. His shoulder muscles shifted and moved under his jacket, tense even as he disappeared up the only flight of stairs with practically no sound. Christ, had you ever met someone so wound up in your life? There was something about him that made you sad, like staring at a creature who didn’t have the chance to relax in his life. Something about it made you really interested in picking him apart, bit by bit. To see what was underneath all that prickly exterior, if Vergil was even capable of relaxation.

It looks like those lips never smiled in their life.

But something about that...makes me very interested in taking on a challenge.

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[marvelousworldgeek-blog]

Texting Strangers

Author: Kennedy

Characters: Fem!Reader and…?

Story: Y/N, who’s going through a rough patch, texts a random number in search of a friend.

Rated PG-13 for language, mention of drinking

Warnings: Reader is going through a rough patch, but I tried to keep it on the lighter side. Also, use of language.  

“Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?”

The lilting voice of The King floated in through the open window as Y/N sat at her desk, staring at the blank screen in front of her. There was plenty of work to be done, sure. But what was the point now. She hated her job, her coworkers, the tiny cubicles, the sound the water cooler made every time an air bubble floated up. And here she was on a Saturday working from home to try and finish whatever dry, boring project her boss had saddled her with, knowing that Y/N was the only person who would actually get it done. Nevermind that Marc had ten years of experience on her two, or that it was actually Kayla’s department that was in charge of this particular project. Or the fact that Y/N was still technically an intern.

“Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare? Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?”

And to throw a cherry on top of this hate-my-life sundae, today marked the official six month anniversary of Jeremy moving out. Break ups were always tough, of course. But things could have certainly been easier if he hadn’t literally picked up and left in the middle of the night. It seemed as though the past year had been one big non-stop “fuck you”. Work? Terrible. Relationship? Long-dead. Family? Radio silence. Friends? Moved away. Apartment? Actually starting to feel like a cave.

Y/N glanced around the room at the stack of empty takeout boxes, the pile of paperwork, the week-old laundry. Motivating oneself to clean up seemed an immense task when the overwhelming feeling in life was ‘why bother?’

“Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?”

The sad song was just too ironic to handle at that moment. Her neighbor across the courtyard was a huge Elvis fan, and listened to old records nearly every night. For the most part it was nice to have the soft music as a background when she was home, but tonight it was a glib reminder of how lonely she actually was.

“This is bullshit,” Y/N muttered to herself and closed the laptop.

It was saturday night and she wasn’t about to stay at home and mope her way through another weekend. No sir. And so with all the energy and false confidence she could muster, Y/N grabbed an outfit out of the closet, threw on some makeup, and headed out on the town.

…

Okay, so maybe the nightclub scene wasn’t what she was after. Thirty minutes to get in, twenty waiting for a drink, then a whole lot of sitting around on garrish plush furniture waiting for someone to walk over and strike up a conversation. The closest she came was two drunk girls telling her they liked her shoes before stumbling off into the sweaty fray. And now this overpriced, watered-down drink was going straight to her bladder.

Y/N set the now empty cup on a table and headed off for the line to the bathrooms. Surprisingly, she only had to wait for two people before she got in and locked herself into a stall. The walls were as high as the ceiling and provided a satisfying amount of privacy. Behind the safety of four walls, Y/N finally had a chance to breathe. And once again the stress of the past months settled in, despite the cheap liquor pumping through her bloodstream. She leaned her head against the wall next to her and sighed, tracing the faded graffiti.

“Satisfaction guaranteed. Call now!” and a number scrawled below, along with a doodle of a stick figure with a ‘censored’ bar over its lower half. Giggling to herself, Y/N snapped a picture and tucked her phone back into her purse. With a defeated groan she clicked back out to the sinks.

“Oh my GOD, couch girl!”

The shrill voice cut through the bathroom, and Y/N (along with everyone else) turned to glance at its owner.

“Come here, come here,” the blonde girl from earlier gripped Y/N’s hand and dragged her out into the club again, “Come dance!”

And then the evening descended into a blur.

…

Y/N woke to the bright morning sun pouring through the window of her own bedroom. Her head was pounding, her feet ached, and her stomach felt sour. Last night had turned into a long, drawn out drunken dance fest with her two new friends (whose names and numbers she had never managed to get), and in the cold light of day Y/N vowed to never try and drink her woes away again.

After much groaning, she managed to shuffle to the kitchen and set the hot water on, all the while cursing her past self. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed her phone and checked the screen. One unread text.

“Dammit,” she groaned.

Work never stops. Reluctantly, she opened the message.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, feel free to drop me a line again.”

An unknown number, great. Y/N scrolled back up through the rest of the conversation. And was surprised to find several hours worth of back-and-forth with the mystery person. Somehow, in her intoxicated state, she had poured out her heart to a complete stranger, telling them all about the stress and sadness and heartache over her life. In turn, they had offered support and humor, and if she hadn’t known better she would have assumed this was a conversation between close friends.

“What the-”

Y/N recalled the number from the wall of the club bathroom. In a panic, she checked the photos on her phone. But the number didn’t match the one she had texted. At least not exactly. Somewhere during her night out she had attempted to text this mystery man but instead had hit up some poor clueless stranger and had a long drawn-out conversation over the course of the evening.

With an exasperated sigh, Y/N tossed her phone on the counter and retired to the couch in defeat.

…

“You look really tired,” Kayla’s brunette locks appeared above the edge of Y/N’s cubicle.

Y/N nodded; “It was a long weekend.”

“Did you finish the projection project?”

“I put it on his desk this morning.”

“Ah man,” Kayla sighed. “I was hoping I could hand it in to him. I have some, um, stuff I had to go over.”

“Like taking all the credit?” Y/N thought to herself.

“Oh well, I’ll get the next one. Thanks!”

Then she bounced away, heels clicking loudly against the floor.

Y/N leaned her forehead against the desk and groaned.

“Fuuuck…”

Her phone buzzed and Y/N sat up, rubbing her temple, and pressed the notification.

“Hope they aren’t giving you too much crap today.”

Y/N frowned; it was the stranger from the night before.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

It was only a moment before they replied; “You mentioned you might say that!”

“Ha ha sounds about right. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“A friend.”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered to herself, frowning. “Is this being cute? Or shady…”

“A friend with a name?”

“I thought you said we weren’t doing names?”

“Of course drunk me would say that,” Y/N thought.

“Okay friend. Tell me a little about yourself.”

“I’m a member of a secret organization who kept me in a lab for the first part of my life in order to mold me into a super weapon. Now I spend my free time saving the world.”

“You’re funny.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Y/N smiled to herself; “Okay ‘friend’ I’ll leave it be for now. You’re a superhero.”

“Really just a run-of-the-mill hero.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll take your word for it.”

“If you didn’t have to do your job, what would you want to be?”

The question caught Y/N off guard; she hadn’t thought about it in so long. She had been fully focused on getting through school, then getting a job that could get her out of her parents  house and on her own. She hadn’t thought about what she actually wanted to be.

“Um, idk”

“That’s not good.”

“I have a job. That’s what really matters,” she paused, then added, “Do you like your job?”

“I love it.”

“You’re lucky.”

“What do you like to do?”

Y/N sat for a few minutes and considered this.

Another text came through: “???”

Finally she typed, “I love to cook. I actually took a bunch of cooking and culinary arts classes in school. But I would hate being a chef. The hours are outrageous and it gets stuffy in the kitchen.”

“What about a food truck? You could make your own hours, drive to different places every day, you could even travel.”

Y/N actually laughed aloud to herself. She had never considered cooking for a living. She had worked as a waitress when she was in highschool and the kitchen staff were always miserable and overworked. Not to mention kind of mean. She had written off cooking for a living right then and there.

“I’d never thought of that.”

“What is your favorite thing to cook?”

“Breakfast food and baked goods, mostly.”

“That is perfect food truck food!”

“I suppose it is…”

“You should check this out,” they replied, then sent a link to an article titled ‘Considering Opening a Food Truck? Read these fifteen true stories from other chefs who did the exact same thing!’

“I’ll check it out, thanks!” Y/N name typed back, still smiling to herself.

“Hey friend, can I text you tomorrow? I have to go save some kids from a bus on fire.”

“Of course. Be safe, Superman!”

“Hm, nah. Call me ‘Batman’.”

“Okay, be safe Batman.”

“Read that article; I’ll ask you about it tomorrow!”

Y/N chuckled as she pressed save contact and typed ‘Batman’ into the name.

To be continued... 

[another-chorus-girl]

“What Makes a Monster Into a Man” PotO drabble

I promise I am still writing Erik House, and chapter 22 as I type is sitting in an open tab on my laptop right now, one last paragraph to write for it! But this idea has been swimming in my head for awhile. Not an overly long piece but it evolved from a joking conversation I had with a few friends. So while not Erik House related here is a sorta fourth wall break drabble.

From afar Erik hovered over the shoulder of the small man his golden eyes scanning over the score before them. This composer while certainly with faults and not up to his own standards was not entirely mediocre.

Especially one so bold as to recreate HIS story.

Erik couldn’t help but snort, "You're just as nosy as that Leroux character."

Sure the composer was reshaping the image of Erik's story, the journalist had wanted to do this too, but he felt strangely and perplexly contrite with this particular retelling. It seemed this man held great sympathy for poor unhappy Erik. Though the opera ghost couldn't understand how anyone could, even when she had pressed her lips to his forehead he could barely fathom it being real.  

The lead, the man's newly wed wife as it happened held a strong vibratto. While not quite the same as his true Christine had been, this woman was not without her own sort of power and talent.

He followed them as they all wandered about his opera house, taking photographs with small silver contraptions that flashed at their whim. But how he surely began to loathe the composer's impulsive decision after decision when he continued to watch them after leaving France. He would have rather stayed in his theater, but if they wanted to retell Erik's story, Erik himself wanted a say in all of this. It seemed he now had a home away from home outside of the Garnier's walls.  

It felt as though the old soul was having a conversation after so many years.

Granted this was a one sided conversation, Erik whispered into the mens' ears so as to steer them in the right direction. Of course the true opera ghost could not quite literally tell them what to do, but a little push-or a forceful subconcious shove-was needed to truly tell this story properly. A person here and there sacked followed shortly after by a replacement, the opera ghost’s own personal tweaks to the sheet music. 

And then he heard the two of them mention his name. Who ever would be their Phantom?

Erik was appalled to say the least when his withered ears heard the voices passing through.

"No. Oh no no no. This simply will not do"

And so Erik whispered again. "Find someone else, search the ends of the earth if you must Monsieur."

Fortunately they didn't have to go so far as the ends of the earth for that someone else.

Erik hummed skeptically watching him come in. Another Brit from the sound of it, while he groaned it would seem quite out of place for a Parisian here. He and the composer talked and discussed business, it seemed this man and the wife were cut from the same cloth, the same tutor that was to say! As the phrase went, it was quite a small world.

Watching in the shadows, the golden irises gleamed feeling the emotion, the passion this man radiated for music. It was a strange gift Erik was blessed-or possibly cursed-with in this new life if it could be called that. And in him, Erik felt a level of empathy and able to relate to this drive to set the music free.

He was unaware if his touch affected anyone, not that anyone could even see him. But he could feel a surge of emotion from the man as the opera ghost placed a skeletal hand on his shoulder. The hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on edge as the composer played. Was it from the music or opera ghost's touch on his arm as Erik fed off the man's emotion.

"Yes,” He seemed to purr with delight in the man’s ear. “Yes, I think you'll do,"

Erik smirked behind his mask-even in death he was given the grace of concealing his face. As he took a breath, Erik in turn felt this intake of oxygen. The first time Erik had felt a surge of life in decades. 

Through him, Erik once more-from time to time that is-had a physical being, a presence, a voice. Of course the actor had no knowledge of the opera ghost's presence, when Erik gained control these episodes were seen as a subconscious emotion. If seen by the others it was cast aside as a simple haughty tantrum of anger.  

After so many years of silence and solitude, Erik revelled having quite fun to say the least. The man was a decent looking fellow, certainly more handsome than Erik had been in life or otherwise. Even given the grotesque handiwork upon layers of makeup, mismatched eye colors, and a hair receeding wig, Erik had the benefit of half the face.

In these moments of control and assertion, Erik looked upon 'himself' in the mirror one night in the dressing room. The suit was well tailored and fitted, while considered a costume it looked quite exquisite. The cloak hung loosely over 'his' shoulders. Wearing a copper tone slicked back wig, over yet another wig, and a fedora atop 'his' head. And a mask, but only over half the face.

Raising a hand bearing peak healthy skin tone and unwithered digits unlike Erik's own, only just grazing the glass with 'his' index and middle fingers looking back on 'his' reflection. Even despite the bloated wine colored lips, or the makeup and mask, Erik himself was in awe.

He had crept through the retelling of his past once before, these adaptions making him feel more and more like the monster he became. Only being seen as a ghoulish wretch only to be ripped apart by an angry mob of villagers or death by tunnel collapse like a lowly mole in its hole. But here, standing in this dressing room he was about to be seen as more than that, by hundreds, thousands of eyes. And these eyes felt for him, admired him, loved him. He! Loved...

Even as the decades rolled by, and Erik having his pick of the litter as new actors and faces came and went, so may places, countries, and languages explored he was beyond comprehension how his story came to be so lavish and even admired by so many.

Had Erik only known this warm compassion in life he wondered. Christine's deed to him was selfless and kind, but for someone to breathe life into him, express such depth of understanding.

He only hoped this little show-while not so little anymore-would live on through the ages as his legend now seemed to.

So yes if it weren’t obvious the main power players described were Andrew Lloyd Webber, Sarah Brightman, and of course Michael Crawford. This idea was seeded in my head after watching the documentary during a few stream nights and alot of us jokingly making a fan theory that Erik just likes to possess his Phantom actors given the body language and how many of the actors-especially Crawford-refer to Erik as though he were an old friend to them. I may build more on this later but here’s what I have!

Blessed night <3

[chimswae]

Chapter 14

Foreword:

Some stories are better left unsaid.I couldn’t change anything for the world, although the fame part of this industry is tough to handle.Do i have a life? Yes I have my fans.Do i have friends? Yes the members that I cherish. Do i have love? No I have to let go.Life always offers you a second chance. It’s called tomorrow. But do i have any tomorrow?

Pairing: Jimin x OC (Other characters: BTS, OCs, Lee Taehwan)

Genre: Idolau, Fluff, Romance

Word Count: 2,812

Author Note: I crosspost this story from my Asianfanfic account. Mind you, clicheness OVERLOADS

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Chapter 14:  Hold me tight, trust me

[ +120, -13] Did you see Min Suga flip out? He was trying to be polite to that reporter but guess her questions really tick him off kekekeke The reporter is nosy anyways, so rude. He is just trying to protect his friends.

 [+71, -122] Park Jimin really had a hard time, I don’t blame him. Medias are going crazy. I heard they ambushed the girl’s home too. How inappropriate.

 [+46, -3] Why cant people leave him alone? It is his life. I feel bad for the girl and the kid, they must be terrified. I am supporting you Park Jimin! Hwaiting~!

 [+88, -149] BTS Jimin is a bad influence to teenagers. He made baby when he’s still in school and dumped the girl to become an idol. How horrible is that. I heard they are the president of middle school club something but they don’t act like one. Rip the title off from them.

 [+21, -99] That bitch must be after his money. She wouldn’t just appear without reasons. What a disgrace to whole nation.

 [+23, -62] He is a scapegoat kekekekkekee What will happen to Bangtan now. Major flop.

 [+33, -178] Wow, I knew from start Park Jimin is a trash. Get that asshole out from the group. A bad example to younger fans!!

 [+43, -199] Since he cant sing without sounding like a damn penguin, maybe he can reconsider babysitting his son at home kekekekeke

 [+64, -15] I heard a wedding bell ringing~~ kekekeeke who’s going to attend a trashy wedding ceremony. The girl is taking gold digging into a whole new level.

  Slamming the laptop shut, Taehwan gave Yeoul a look “I told you to stop reading comments, they are judging both of you without knowing the truth. Horrible human being” he sighed.

 Wretchedly, she covered her face to hide tear filled eyes. Yeoul was used to bearing pain without showing how much it hurt. However, she cried at last even though it was part her distress. No one with sane mind would be fine after reading such nasty comments.

He shifted closer to where Yeoul sat, embraced the poor girl in a tight hug “I am sorry that you have to face this Yeoul ah, I wish I can take the pain from you” he stroked her long hair lovingly. Taehwan wished he had the ability to erase bad memories from her. Endurance was never her forte.

 She cried way too much every single days without failed, that was not a good sign for her health. Another thing was that, she waited for Jimin to come safe and sound as he promised. Of course, she didn’t put much expectation on that since his boss might not let him carelessly travel across the region just to get her. But, having a little faith wouldn’t hurt right?

 “OMMA! I SAW APPA OUTSIDE” Minyeol’s squealed returned their attention to the younger boy who was on his toes in front of the window scanning their backyard. Yeoul told him to use a secret passageway behind to avoid the crowd in front of their house. Another commotion was the last thing that they wished to see at the moment.

 Taehwan walked up to Minyeol helping the hyper boy opening the door for his dear father and giving no time for Jimin to digest, Minyeol crashed his body against him.

 Hugging him tight, Minyeol smiled widely “Appaaa is back.. Minyeollie miss appa so much” he startled at the sudden impact but softened to see his son clinging onto him. One of their managers accompanied Jimin to Busan and though he was well aware of the scandal, it was still amusing to see another side of Jimin. It was unusual.

 Jimin picked him up, rocking his body side to side “Appa misses you too, how’s my Minyeol” Yeoul stared at him blankly, part of her soul slowly leaving her body. The sight of Jimin much alive and untouchable was a huge relief.

“Minyeol is terrified. The people outside is hurting omma and yeollie” he pouted.

 “Appa is here so I will make sure bad people wont get you and your omma, alright?” smiling affectionately, he squished the younger boy close before setting him down on ground again.

 He shifted his gaze to Yeoul sad face, their orbs met, their gaze seemed to concentrate and they stood motionless, as if spellbound. Not to mention, it had been a rough week for both of them, to be in the same room, breathing the same air was almost impossible after the event.

 She hung her head and huffed out a sigh, finally meeting his gaze, that one face she missed the most “Hey…” Yeoul broke her silence with a soft voice enough for him to capture. Jimin looked steadily into her solemn eyes, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for causing the pain. It was unbearable to watch his girl cried because of him.

 “Yeoul…” eventually his arms crossed over her, embracing her tight and she relaxed against him. Nuzzling her face in his chest, she finally could her the sound of his heartbeat. Calming yet help to sooth away the pain from her.

 “I am sorry that it took me so long to come and I missed you” she heard he whispered lowly in her ears. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around him returning the hug with a wide smile, letting herself melt into Jimin’s strong embrace.

 Giving the couple time to catch up, Taehwan brought Minyeol upstairs and the younger boy nodded obediently with a smile. Being in the same room as Jimin was the last thing that he wanted to do today, Taehwan was not fond of that guy just yet. He needed time.

 Yeoul pulled away, caressing his cheeks with a glint of worries in her eyes “You lost weight, did Jin oppa even feed you properly?” he chuckled.

 “Hyung barely cooked lately, so we just ate takeaways food” she cringed in disagreement.

 “That’s unhealthy! I am scolding Jin oppa for feeding you guys unhygienic food”

 Grazing his fingertip to tap her nose softly, he shot her a smile “I don’t remember we ever eat an-oh-so-hygienic food either back then? We basically ate ramen and fried chicken” scrunching her nose cutely, she puffed her cheeks.

 “That was long time ago. My cooking skills improved over time, so don’t judge.” Yeoul realized there was a tall man far at the corner leaning against the wall, and once in awhile he would steal a glance at them with a teasing smile.

 “mm.. Jims.. who is that?” she squished his hand and whispered softly.

 Jimin glanced at his manager hyung “Oh that is manager hyung. He is here to accompany me. You know we need to head to Seoul in a bit right” he tilted his head at her direction.

 Yeoul nodded “I know.. your manager hyung is too good looking to be one. I thought he is the hidden Bangtan members” her gazed were fixed at him. When he caught her staring, he put a friendly smile with a small bow causing her to flush.

 As he noticed the girl in front of him was fawning over his manager, he flicked Yeoul forehead with a frown “Lower your gaze. Manager hyung is taken, so are you” he exclaimed. His manager chuckled in process grasping their conversation, ignoring Jimin death glare.

 She rubbed her forehead with a pout “I am being a normal girl! Blame him for having that good look. And who says I am taken?” Jimin squished her cheeks.

 “You are taken by Park Jimin”

 “I am not”

 “Yes you are, you said ‘i love you’ back to me. TWICE!”

 “Psh… that is just an ‘I love you’..I can say I love you to anyone that I like”

 “Yah, don’t you dare”

 “Yes I do.. I am going to say it to your manager hyung now” she teased with a playful smug.

 Jimin turned to face his manager who had dumbfounded look on his face “Don’t smile hyung!” he whined almost sounded like a spoiled kid throwing tantrum.

 “Manager Oppa… I Lo-” he cut her off with a kiss, muffling her sinful mouth from spurting more nonsense. His manager flustered upon seeing the unwelcoming scene before him and he immediately turned to face the wall.

 Holding her body close, he nibbled her lower lips with a smirk ‘No you cant say I love you to anyone’ Yeoul returned his kiss anyway. They pulled away with a stupid smile on their face not long after. The couple didn’t  want to prolong their affection not with the presence of his manager.

 “Let’s pack, its going to be a long day” she felt his soft lips against her cheeks.

 ------------

 “Appa and omma will be back soon, so for the time being you will stay with Taehwan ahjussi and granny okay? Be a good boy” Yeoul stroked his hair with a motherly smile.

 “When will omma come back?” Minyeol fingers fiddled with her lock as his other hand slowly caressed Yeoul cheeks.

 “As soon as possible. When omma comeback we will go buy your favorite bunny” his sad smile was replaced with a bright one as soon as he heard the ‘bunny’ part. Minyeol wrapped his arm around her neck, though deep down inside she didn’t want to leave him alone but she had too.

 Exposing Minyeol to medias was not a good idea either, she didn’t want public got a hold of her son. He was just a kid.

 Jimin knelt beside Minyeol, hugging him “Now, will you promise appa to behave when we’re away?” he held his pinky fingers out as the younger boy excitedly linked his pinky with Jimin.

 “Tae-ah thank you for doing this” holding his hand tight, he felt the spark in his heart again.

 He sighed softly “Don’t worry, Minyeol and your mother will be safe with me. Come back safely” ruffling her hair, his encouraging smile gave Yeoul strength to face the reality from now. After bidding their last farewell, his manager urged them to be faster since they have a flight to catch. Worries after worries gnashed her heart, would things turn out good as they hoped?

 ------------------

 The journey was rather smooth though from time to time people would recognize them in the flight including the flight attendants, but thankfully they left Yeoul and Jimin alone. Sucks to be an idol sometimes, people pretended that they knew everything about them and quick to judge.

 Passing the last security procedure, they were now ready to leave the area but surprised to see the huge crowd formed in front of the arrival hall. Jimin gave his manager a baffle look “Hyung.. I thought no one knew about me going back to Busan?” he blinked.

 Scanning the area, Yeoul could feel her heartbeat rate increased rapidly. The last time she was surrounded by human with camera, it turned out badly. Now the size of the crowd in front of her resident was nothing in comparison to this. This was almost like a mini fanmeeting and for some reason it mortified her.

 “I got a call from the company, they said someone leaked the news. This is out of control but they have secure the place and the vehicle is ready to transport us back safely. Will Yeoul be okay to walk through this huge crowd?” he shot her a concern look.

 Chewing her lower lips, she was unsure how to answer the question. Even though she said no, what could they do? They still had to face these people in the end. Jimin hugged her shoulder with a concern smile “We can find another way, if you are uncomfortable” he assured.

 Yeoul was not used to cameras and screaming fans, but she didn’t want to get him into trouble either. She gave them a small nod “I will be okay” unfazed, Jimin eyebrows were furrowed deeply. He knew Yeoul was not okay.

 “You don’t have to feel pressured, if you cant do this. We will find another route”

 “I am really fine Jimin. Don’t worry about me, just umm stay by my side. I am not used to this” she convinced him with a smile.

 “Then you are stuck with me. Hold onto me tight” he nodded at his manager way signaling they were ready to leave the area. Putting his black shade, he interlaced his fingers with her and slowly made their way outside and like a flock of birds fighting for food, they were quickly ambushed by flash of cameras.

 “IT IS PARK JIMIN”

 “Park Jimin ssi is the rumor true about you and the girl?”

“THEY ARE HOLDING HANDS. THEY ARE REAL”

 “Miss Na, how long have you been keeping your relationship from everyone”

 “Miss Na and Jimin-ssi we have questions. Wait up”

 Petrified, Yeoul scooted closer to his side seeking for comfort, she squished his hand tighter ‘This is scary as hell’ there were press everywhere though they were securities around them blocking their path but some was smart enough to grab her arm once in awhile.

 Jimin pulled Yeoul to walk in front of him as he enveloped one arm around her from back “I will be here, keep walking” he muttered close to her earlobes.

 Some fans were squealing hard upon witnessing Jimin heroic action. He was being very protective over Yeoul at the moment, since there were ignorant people trying to grasp her at any chance they had. It was sickening.

  “JIMIN OPPA WE WILL SUPPORT YOU AND UNNIE”

 “IGNORE THOSE MEAN PEOPLE JIMIN OPPA”

 Jimin glanced at his fans with a thankful look and continued to pass the huge crowd before the crowd got bigger and suffocated both of them.

 “Make way, don’t crowd the area” the securities warned the press who tried to take a clear picture of Yeoul and Jimin together. At one point, they successfully exited the arrival hall and were getting closer to the black vehicle in front of them.

 Just few more steps and the nightmare will end, Yeoul prayed in her head.

 His manager opened the door, loading a luggage inside and signaled Jimin to walk quickly. Since there were too many people surrounding them, things got uncontrollable at one point.

 That include..

 A balloon was thrown at Yeoul and burst, she was drenched with red stain from head to toes.

 “YEOUL!” Jimin eyes widened his eyes.

 The assault continued as there was a group of people throwing balloon contained a kind of red paint at her direction. Jimin frowned in anger and pulled Yeoul into a tight hug, blocking the balloon from hitting his girl.

  Everyone gasped at the sight and some concerned fans tried to find the source of the attack to make it stop.

 “Over there! They are throwing the balloons!”

 “Jimin oppa are you okay?”

 “Omo omo omo I hope they are alright”

 Yeoul clutched onto his shirt tight and shuddered at the coldness, her tears cascaded down without warn. She felt humiliated but at the same time she worried of Jimin since he took the hit for her. Would this get him in trouble?  

 Jimin tried to hold back the anger bubbled inside him, he heard people whispered around him with insult. He snapped “YAH YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY! ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN? JUST FUCK OFF” he turned to face a group of anti fans who were already being captured by the securities there.

 “Jimin… don’t..” Yeoul held him back concerned that he said something mean and as a result it gave the medias an upper hand to twist anything that came out from his mouth.

 His manager went to their side “Jimin we have to go now, it is not safe. Lets get inside quick” he patted the younger boy, ushering both of him and Yeoul inside the vehicle. The door slid closed and within a second Jimin already took her face in his hand examining Yeoul in case she got hurt.

 “Are you hurt anywhere?” he took a clean towel from manager hyung and started to clean the red stain off from her face. Yeoul chose to keep silent as she watched Jimin diligently, her fear subsided.

 “I am sorry Yeoul. I am sorry, I should protect you. I am sorry” his indistinct mumble sounded silly but it made her smile.

 She eyed him, holding onto his wrist “You got hit too…” snatching the clean cloth from his hand. She dabbed his forehead along his cheek, Yeoul smiled meekly not knowing how to react. Things that they experienced just now was beyond horrible.

 “We are heading to the company. Others are there too along with Bang PD” manager hyung broke the silence. The couple nodded with a small smile and Yeoul was mentally ready to face this Bang PD. Anything for Jimin and Minyeol, she would do it without complain.

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This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2019. All Rights Reserved

[ecotone99]

[HR & TH] The Thorns That Cut: A Murderous Betrayal

THORNS THAT CUT:

A MURDEROUS BETRAYAL

Written by Samantha James …

I sat up against the pillows completely out of breathe. This had been the worst coughing fit yet. It felt like my lungs were trying to come up out of my throat and nobody knew why. My recent health problems were a mystery to even doctors. I struggled to put my red hair in a ponytail. It was starting to thin out in parts. My hair was not as full and shiny as it had been in the past.

“Cathy, why don’t you try to sleep,” encouraged my husband Ben.

I looked over to where he sat on a small sofa near the balcony door of our master bedroom. This was what the poor man had been sleeping on for the last several weeks despite my protest. His legs were much too long for our small bedroom couch. The guest bedroom would have been more comfortable.

“I am not very sleepy at the moment,” I mumbled weakly.

I still had not recovered from the coughing episode.

“Maybe in a little while. What do you want to do then dear?” He asked.

“Can we go outside for a walk? I could use some fresh air.”

“I don’t think that is such a good idea right now,”

Concern clouded his face and darkened his eyes. He was probably remembering the hour I had spent emptying my stomach while he held my hair as the sun came up. We had both watched the sunrise through the little bathroom window.

We didn’t know why I was so sick or what was causing it. I had been to the emergency room five times in the last month with high fevers, nausea, and pains throughout my body. There had been no answers and I had seen several doctors since then. They each gave a different diagnosis. The path to feeling well had become endless and daunting. My health was only getting worse by the day. This had all been so terrifying and sometimes I felt like hope was slipping away from our hands.

“I can read to you out on the veranda, I’ll grab a blanket,” offered Ben.

“No, that is okay babe. I will just watch a little television.”

I did not like the dark circles under his eyes that were starting to become a permanent feature on his face. He was so handsome with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples. Ben could pass as a male model. He towered over everyone at 6’4 and had broad shoulders that intimidated most. I had fallen in love with his bright boyish smile almost immediately. I frowned. Ben was not looking like himself as of late.

He hadn’t been right since I had first started getting sick. It was hard to describe the change. Something was just off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Everything had me feeling paranoid and worried these days. He was just probably out of his mind with fear for my health.

“Is everything alright Cathy? You went really pale just now.”

“Yes. Maybe I should sleep after all. Can you bring me my stomach pills?”

“One moment” He nodded.

I waited patiently as Ben walked across the room and then disappeared behind the bathroom door. I sighed. My stomach felt like it wanted to return the shake I had sipped for breakfast. I could not keep anything down. The bathroom door opened. Ben held a glass of water and a little white oval pill in his hand.

His eyebrows furrowed in a slight scold.

“Make sure that you drink all that you are able. The doctors are nervous about you not being hydrated enough. You need more water Cathy”

“Thank you honey. I am going to close my eyes and rest a little”

I swallowed the medicine and took a long deep gulp from the glass. It was tap water. My stomach lurched in anger. I took a deep breathe and tried to keep it from showing on my face hoping I didn’t puke the water up.

“Are you okay?” questioned Ben.

“Yes. Just got a little queasy from the water. I am okay now. Really you should go and relax.” I soothed reassuringly.

“Okay. I do have some business to attend with and calls from the office to answer. Holler if you need anything. I am right here”

Ben leaned over and gave my forehead a gentle kiss. He was so sweet. I offered him a small smile. As I closed my eyes the sound of a closing door filled my ears.

I laid there listening as the footsteps become more faint. Then the only sound was that of my fan sitting on the night stand. The familiar noise was comforting. The breeze was helping me to calm down and relax a little. My body hurt so often now that I could just cry over it. Sleep was alluding me. I laid there in silence for what felt like an hour, but sleep was not taking me into its sweet slumber. This was impossible. Perhaps a movie would be nice? I decided this was exactly what I needed. A movie would help lull me to sleep.

I could hear whispers coming from the study. The door was cracked open slightly. Clutching my blanket and the DVD I had chosen, my ears strained to listen. Ben was trying to soothe the caller on the other end of the line. This did not sound like a business call.

“Laura, I know! Trust me honey.”

Through a crack in the door jam, I watched Ben pace around the room anxiously. He looked upset. I continued to listen in shock. Who was Laura? Why was he down here in the study and not in his office upstairs? The answer was clear as day. It was not difficult to surmise that Ben had not wanted me to overhear this conversation. He had come down here for privacy but why?

“Babe, you cannot think like that! You and Carly mean the world to me. The two of you are everything. My girls, my loves, and all I cherish in this world. Please understand …”

There was silence as he listened to the woman on the other end. I heard Ben give off an audible sigh of relief. It sounded like he was walking closer to the door. I quickly took a step back worried I might be seen if he got close enough.

“Yes. Yes. This will all be over soon. After it is done then I will never leave you or our daughter’s side again. I promise! Just listen. I need your patience and trust; otherwise, this whole ordeal these last weeks have been for nothing. This is all for you and our family”

My heart was thumping out of my chest as I stood in the hall listening quietly. My brain did not really quite comprehend what was being said. My stomach churned as my mind raced to process everything I just overheard.

“That will have to wait until after the funeral” Ben chuckled.

I peaked through the crack again. He sat leaning on the desk smiling now. His eyes were lost far away in the conversation with this other woman. Ben’s features cut me to my core. I had not seen my husband ever look this carefree and buoyant.

I slowly backed away and made my way into the den. The room was cozy and my favorite in the whole house but offered no comfort as my brain realized many things all at once.

My marriage was over.

Walking back upstairs was devastating. The reality of my husband loving another and having a child with that person threatened to put me into a deep spiral of no return. How could this even be? My heart ached at the emotions boiling to the surface of my consciousnesses. Tears streamed down my face in buckets as memories flashed before me and I relived the doctor telling me over a year ago that I would never conceive a child of my own. That the chances were one in a million. Ben having a daughter was simply adding salt on an already gaping wound.

The truth was crystal clear. Divorce was going to be in my immediate future, but first before anything was revealed my ducks needed to all be in a row, and every “I” dotted.

Ben’s office was just down from our bedroom to the right. This is where I went first. The room was not much to be impressed with. A single desk and one bookshelf sat at the far end of the wall under a large window. There was storage boxes filled with paperwork stacked in a corner. No decorations or other furniture one might find in such a work space. Ben’s office had always been bare. He had no sense for this kind of stuff and simply did not care. This was the only room I had been banned from sprucing up. Ben did not mind me filling our home with décor as long as his space was left out of it.

I looked around and realized something was different; however, nothing stood out at me. It was puzzling. I leaned against the wall because my body felt like it was loosing strength to keep me standing. Muddled thoughts jumped in and out of my head as I rested. My breathe was struggling to leave my lungs. Everything that had happened in this last month was all too much. I was so sick and this only made it all the more harder. How was I going to survive without Ben?

Tears threatened to spill out of my eyelids again. This was terrible! I needed and loved him. We could work things out couldn’t we? I pondered forgiveness but was coming up short. Could one really forgive their spouse for cheating? Would I be able to? No answers responded to my mindless questions. What I really needed was advice and my best friend. She would know exactly what to do. I turned to go in search of my phone but something caught my eye. That is when it hit me. I knew what was so different about my husband’s office. The laptop sitting on the desk was not Ben’s own computer. The foreign laptop was one I had never seen. Had Ben purchased a new one?

Curiosity gave way to action and I opened it in hopes that a password would not block my access. Luck was on my side! The login brought me directly to the desktop page. What I saw on the screen however made me feel like someone had kicked my teeth in. The background displayed a very beautiful woman with light brown hair and dark eyes. She laid in a hospital bed smiling with unabashed happiness. A newborn baby lay cuddled in her arms wrapped in a blanket. This had to be Laura and Carly. Ben stood in the photo off to the side of the bed next to them. He was absolutely beaming with joy as he kissed the woman’s forehead the way he always kissed mine. At the bottom of the image read the name Carly Christina, born 7lbs’ 8 ounces. The date was a little over two months ago. This was very recent and just before I had started to get sick.

Ben had kept a secret family hidden from me for who knows how long and all while something was seriously going wrong with my health. When he was needed the most. I clicked on the web browser icon and was taken instantly to his email account. Scrolling through the inbox did not offer anything of interest. How frustrating!

My head was spinning a bit and realizing I had done too much physically caused me to give up my investigation for the time being. Rest and laying down was crucial. The shock of Ben’s betrayal stung. Time for thinking was needed. When I clicked to exit the browser, a search history box popped up in the corner. What displayed there caused me to remain in the chair. The most recent of searches listed topics like “ Realtor” “selling your house” “life insurance” “nightshade” “undetectable” “Marriage licenses” “alimony” “ divorce” “social security”

All sorts of thoughts were running around as I stood there staring blankly at the screen. On impulse I clicked on the search term “nightshade”. The website displayed a health site with a long list of symptoms . It was a poison. Why was Ben searching about poison? This was quite confounding. As I read the long list of symptoms my incredulity turned to horror. Body pains, insomnia, and weakness were at the top. Symptoms also included digestive problems such as nausea, heartburn, and gas. These all were what I had been experiencing. I turned chalk white at the realization my husband might be trying to kill me.

My heart thudded loudly in my chest, my ears lost its ability to hear, and time stopped altogether. I felt like I was going faint with terrified anger. Then the words from Ben’s conversation downstairs came back to my memory. He had laughed about a funeral. Was he talking about me?

Everything seemed to click together.

I slammed the computer closed and gave off a weary sigh. What was I going to do? Footsteps sounded on the stairway. Someone was walking upstairs. Ben couldn’t find me in here! Shaking with fear I made my away from the desk. Knowing there was no time to leave the room unseen. I called out:

“Ben are you in here?”

“Cathy?” replied a confused voice.

“Oh there you are!” I said weakly before adding “I was looking for you!”

“Oh I am sorry dear! I went downstairs to get some breakfast and got caught up on the phone with work.”

I was trembling and unable to hide that something was wrong. My body did not feel like my own. It was as if everything was at a distance. Focus was hard to find. I wanted to throw up just looking at him: however, it was obvious that I wouldn’t be safe if he knew that I had found him out.

“You don’t look too well sweetie” He murmured grabbing my arm.

I wanted to slap him, kick his nuts, and run out of the house. Instead, I offered up a weak smile and let him lead me towards our bedroom.

“I feel awful. Can you help me prepare a bath?”

“Sure, and then I will bring you up a shake later. You gotta get well.”

The shake! That is how he was doing it! Everyday for breakfast, lunch, and dinner he made me what he called his health shake. Ben said it was filled with vitamins, nutrients, and anti-oxidants. They had tasted normal and nothing had seemed wrong. I began shaking really hard as I realized I had been drinking them every day for over an entire month. How was I still alive?

“Are you cold?”

“Yes. Can you make the water extra warm?” I requested.

Running water could be heard from the bathroom as Ben prepared the tub. He came back into the room and said it was almost ready. I nodded not trusting myself to speak as I sat on the bed holding my “health shake”. My mind was scrutinizing every action of my husband over the last two months. There was nothing in my memory that could have lead me to this moment. I thought he had loved me.

“Well, I am going to be in the office working. Let me know if you need help getting out of the tub. You should try to take a nap afterwards. You look like you need some rest really bad”

I tried to cover the disgust that was beginning to show on my face at his words. He had others so easily fooled with fake concern and kindness. Had he always been this way and I am just now noticing? I was not really sure of that answer. While Ben had been downstairs preparing my poisonous shake though, a plan had been formed.

The thought of just walking out of the house with him knowing frightened me beyond believe. There had been too many murdered woman at the hands of their husbands on the ID channel. Late into the night often they would be playing on our T.V. How abused woman get stabbed, shot, or beaten to death for trying to leave their evil spouses. Fear had ceased me and put me on the defensive. Images of bloody lifeless victims played through my mind like a movie. This man was willingly to slowly poison me to death. If I tried to walk out? The answer brought shudders to my body and the trembles came back.

An escape plan that was smart was the only way I could save myself from this nightmare. My thoughts were becoming clearer with this renowned sense of purpose. The survival instinct we each carry was providing the needed strength to do what had to be done. There was stairs off of the veranda in our master bedroom that wrapped around the house. They went to ground floor. That is where an exit could be made.

Slowly walking to the bathroom to give off the impression that I was going to take a bath, I listened to Ben as he walked across the hall and into his office shutting the door behind him. I inhaled and exhaled, making sure to take deep breathe in an effort to remain calm. Sitting in the bathroom I gently set the evil shake on the counter by the sink and closed the bathroom door as I re-entered the bedroom. Tip toeing across the room as quietly as I could to reach the patio. Luckily, the door did not creak as it opened. Sweat ran down my brows as I stepped outside.

The door slipped shut. Holding my breathe, I listened for any noise. While in the bathroom I waited several minutes to make sure Ben did not come out of his office. There was no sound. Taking a deep breathe , I reassured myself that everything was going to be okay. Cold wind hit my face and it was piercing. Shivers made there way up my spine. It was the middle of winter and here I was barefoot with no jacket. The only protection was my flimsy silk pajamas. I had not quite thought this all the way out. There was no going back now.

The steps felt like ice cubes as I descended. The metal and stone stairs harbored no warmth. My hair kept flying up across my face causing me to stop several times to wipe the thick strands out of my eyes.

The narrow pathway leading out to the street greeted me at the bottom of the staircase. It was concrete and did not feel as cold as the metal stairs. Our house had a tall full length fence that laid across on the sides of the walkway. Ducking slightly to avoid the kitchen window, I crept forward holding my breathe the entire time. Relief was a very dominant emotion inside me in this direct moment. Ben’s office faced the backyard and not the street out front. He was never going to see my getaway. The goal in my head was to hide out at the Phillips.

They were an older couple who lived across the way three houses down.

Barbara Phillips and I had struck up a friendship last spring over gardening. She had taught me so much about plants and taking care of a garden properly. Ben had never met them. He had always been too occupied with his own business that he barely acknowledge me when I discussed the kind couple. They would help me. Barbara’s husband could take me to the police station.

All would be sorted out and Ben would be arrested. He would suffer the consequences of his crimes and I would once again be safe to live my life normally. Thoughts of Ben being locked up brought comfort to my soul and renewed my strength. Dammit, why hadn’t I brought the laptop with me? I could have used the evidence! Too late now …

It was with pure resolve I made my way down the path only to be stopped dead in my tracks.

Ben stood at a small door on the side of our house that lead into the garage. His dark brooding eyes searched mine for understanding. He was tall and his frame left a menacing shadow that blocked out the afternoon light. I shrank back startled and horrified. Hysteria threatened to shatter the bravado I desperately grasped for.

“What are you doing out here Cathy?” he questioned.

Confusion colored his tone and put a strain on the usually soft voice of my husband. No words found their way out of my mouth. I was speechless.

The seconds ticked …

“Well?”

“I wanted to go out for a walk. You would have stopped me.” I replied giving off a sigh before continuing my explanation. “I just wanted to feel like a normal person again.”

It was the only thing that came to my mind to say. The only reasonable answer. I stood there trying to remain calm under a mask of what I hoped looked like guilt rather than fear.

“Normal people go for walks in their pajamas with neither a jacket or shoes?” he asked dryly.

Ben looked me over. Incredulity now in full display making him look harmless. I knew better. He had to go. Right now Ben stood between me and the street. This was not good. Thinking fast I decided to invite him to go with me. This would give me precious minutes.

“Why don’t you come for a walk with me? Can you get me a jacket and some shoes?” I quietly mumbled.

My voice sounded all wrong. It was not my usual tone. Ben looked at me with an odd expression before nodding.

“Okay. Sure … One moment.”

Ben went to the garage and could no longer be seen. I waited to hear the house door click shut before making a run for the road.

Adrenaline pumped through me as my feet were pricked with wet pointy grass as I cut through our lawn. Terror made my body move faster than I could imagine. The sound of a slamming door told me my head start was not enough.

“Cathy!” shouted Ben.

There was no way I was going to look back. Turning off to the side in hopes the neighbors house might block my view, I quickly ducked. That was when I heard a loud deep earth cracking sound through the air in succession.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Holy hell! It was a gun. Jumping from the heinous noise almost caused me to lose my balance as my body rushed to hide itself behind some trash containers. My heart was thumping and the ringing in my ears made me dizzy. All the energy that was wielded in our mad dash from the house sucked away and instantly left me feeling lifeless. Crap! I was going to pass out. My vision blurred. It was impossible to focus.

“Caaaathy.. Cattthhhy. Cathy!” sang Ben not far off from where I crouched.

“Where are you?” he yelled.

His voice was deadly and leery. A sinister smirk quickly developed across Ben’s face when he spotted me on the side of our neighbors house struggling to breathe.

A shiny black gun barrel focused in my view. Aimed right for my head. Out of instinct I spun away and tried to lower myself to the ground but Ben was faster. A bullet hit me in the back of my left shoulder. Completely stunned I collapsed face first into the pavement.

This was where I was going to die. That was my only thought. Warm liquid slowly ran down my arms and onto the floor. The smell of dirt, rust, and copper entered my nostrils leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The pain was intense and sharp. My voice wanted to shout out in agony of it all but nothing would come out. Fear and pain left me paralyzed. The sound of footsteps coming up behind me caused my body to stiffen in dread and alarm. A clicking sound cause my heart to leap out and then stutter. Was Ben going to shoot me again?

At this point I succumbed to my injuries and sickness. The world went black and I lost all consciousnesses. I vaguely remembering hearing more footsteps and shouts before fully passing out. The lights went completely out. It was like falling asleep.

I woke up hours later in a hospital. The gun wounds were not life threatening. I had survived; however, Ben was dead. Cops, neighbors, and the trail had revealed the rest of what happened months later when everything was under investigation. A neighbor I had not met before had been witness to it all.

The man’s name was Nathan Wallace. The day everything went down had seen him at home working on brakes for his truck. He had seen me running from my yard while standing out on his driveway having a smoke before working on his vehicle. Nathan said he had never seen someone looking so frightened. My face had instantly put him on red alert. He was about to chase after me to see if I was alright when Ben could be seen yelling my name and holding the gun.

My husband had lost his entire mind and never once noticed Nathan in his violent frenzy. My savior was unable to stop the first bullet from landing in my shoulder but he did save my life. Nathan had tackled Ben to the ground moments before he was about to shoot me for a second time. The two men wrestled on the floor while I laid lifeless. Nathan told me that these moments felt like hours. The struggle was endless. Ben was not going to give up but my neighbor stood his ground and protected me. Nathan stopped Ben from being able to shoot.

During the scuffle several other neighbors had come to assist. The local emergency dispatch office had received over ten calls about the shooting in a five minute period. The whole street was shell shocked over the incident. The cops ended up shooting Ben within minutes of arriving. My husband would not let go of the gun and attempted to aim it at one of the officers yelling to surrender. The results ended Ben’s life. A person cannot expect to point a weapon such as that towards law enforcement and not expect to die. Forever will I wonder if this was on purpose or had he really just lost it. No one will ever know for sure. Some questions will always remain unanswered.

Weeks after my release from the hospital I received good news. The D.A’s office was pressing charges against Laura Mantilini. Ben’s secret lover was charged with multiple counts of attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, evidence tampering, evasion, and a few other misdemeanors for missing court appearances after being released on bail. They had caught her at the border trying to leave the country with her infant daughter.

During the long intensive trial, lots of information and evidence was provided. Stuff I did not know such as Ben’s method of poisoning me. He had made a special concoction of nightshade, apple seeds, and Pyracantha berries. He would ground up these plants all together into a shake that was served up to me three times a day. It was given to me in just small enough increments and the symptoms were often irregular. This allowed it to go unnoticed. If you are viewing this without any emotional bias. The plan was fairly clever. The doctors would have eventually discovered this perhaps but not in time. Who even knew that apple seeds in large quantities could be poisonous? Laura had encouraged, helped, and participated in the attempt on my life. She received a life sentence without the possibility of parole. This is comforting to me. I am glad that she will never be out in the world free.

It has been nearly three years now and the world has moved on. Some days are tougher then others but I am blessed with someone that fills my very heart and demands all my attention. It is my three year old daughter. When Laura was arrested and taken into custody, there was a small little human left without her mother. Carly had no other family besides my husband and Laura. The tiny little creature was going to enter the foster system. My heart broke during the trial when the judge explained this. When everything was over, I went to Ben’s family. They had already known about the little girl; however, none of them wanted a thing to do with her. It seemed cruel. A child judged by the actions of her parents. My mind struggled with this for weeks until one day I found myself at the child welfare office and requested to be her foster parent.

The process was challenging but last year the adoption was finalized and she will forever remain the bright light that come about from the darkest time in my life. Sometimes I am not sure how I will explain what happened to her birth parents and why her father’s family makes no effort to be involved.

Carly will need the truth from me and all of it. Some day she will be old enough to stumble across newspaper articles about the shooting and the trial. The story had been picked up nationally and various broadcast of the incident appeared everywhere. The whole entire court proceeding had been televised. My daughter will be better off hearing it all from me rather than an outside source but for right now I am happy to just let her be a young innocent child who believes that monster are real and that I have superpowers.

My health is wonderful every since I stopped drinking liquid poison. The symptoms all dissipated and my strength returned. My body gained back weight and coloring. A full recovery.

I never returned to our home after being released from the hospital. My parents offered me my old room and I leaped at the opportunity. The house sold not long after. Carly and I found a beautiful condo with security services. Home feels safe now.

THE END.

Source: The story was originally published on my blog: https://thechroniclesofhistory.com/2020/07/27/short-story-thorns-that-cut-a-murderous-betrayal-written-by-samantha-james/

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