#said something like this earlier. but it irks me so much when people act as if | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

visd3stele · 1 year

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The child of moon and stars

please read the post here before proceeding

tw: mentions of SA

Chapter 2: The aftermath of one fatefull night

I sloped down on my side of the bunk bed I shared with Anika. The stash I've come back with I let on other capable hands as I made my way to Per Haskell's office. As soon as I got away, I felt more tired than after a night out fighting on the severe streets. A sigh left my throat and I let my eyes close.

"Ah, Morozova," Per has said earlier. "You've decided to show your face, finally."

"Sorry, sir. It was urgent."

"The new weapons, I know. Odd, the order hasn't come from me." The short man eyed me with meaning.

"No, sir. But the Stadwatch received a new shipment tonight and it'd have been a shame to let it waste." I kept my voice even, my silver gaze casted on the wall behind him and not Haskel's face. It helped covering my distaste for the man who called himself the Dregs' leader. Kaz did so much more for the band than Per could ever dream of. Except, the old man had no dreams. No ambitions. He'd gladly leave the things as they are while other bands gain power and land.

"Indeed. I assume you acted on Brekker's behalf?"

The words wouldn't leave my mouth through my clenched teeth. It was all I could do not to grind them together. To confirm it, even if Per already knew the answer, even if Kaz – as his lieutant – had the authority to deal certain orders, felt like betrayal.

"Answer me, Morozova." Hearing the name from his mouth made my fingers itch to curl and gather the shadows around his chair to strangle him. After arriving to Ketterdam, I couldn't use the name I've been known by in Ravka. And I needed one for my contract. So I used the first to come to my tired mind after dreadful nights. The name my father said it's a secret no one must know and the one he and his lover dreamt to call another like me. My ancestry, my legacy, my cursed blessing. Arina Morozova.

When papochka said it, shivers ran down my spine. Even as a young, little, girl I could feel its power. The ancient timbre it brought. The legend come to life. It made me feel powerful, safe, worthy. When Per Haskell spoke it, it sounded like an insult. As if I was beneath him, not in rank, but in simply being. Not something unusual in my experience so far – both as a Grisha and a indentered servant in Ketterdam. But it still irks.

"Did you have a job for me, sir?"

Per watches me closely for a while. Trying to decide wether to end my contract now and then or if I'm too valuable to lose. It's not the first time the old man threatens to send me back in the streets. Probably the main reason I hate him so. The power he has over me still. The way he likes to rub it in my face. I'm not the only one he does it to. Kaz amazes me every day with his self restraint and Inej carries it better than both of us. She hasn't lost her soul in the Barrel and it shows.

"The Wraith is nowhere to be found," he says at last, rolling his shoulder into the backrest of his chair. "Figured Schatten can take her place tonight."

My eyes widened with concern and I forced my body to remain in the same position: chin up, back straight, limbs relaxed at my sides. But fear pushed my arms around my torso, hugging myself in search of comfort. "They're still out?"

Kaz, Jesper and Inej had a meeting with a rival band tonight, the Black Tips, to settle some trespassings. Nothing out of the ordinary and certainly nothing to panic over. Jesper is the best sharpshooter we have – actually, I'm quite confident in saying the Zemeni boy is the best in the whole country. Inej is skilled. Her knives always land true and she can disappear with ease if she needs to. The kind Suli girl doesn't need a savior, those who go against her do.

And Kaz? He's a myth already and not for nothing. He seems to read people minds with the efficacy of his plans. His cane is known as a terrible weapon in the Barrel – and possibly beyond it. Dirtyhands is not someone to play with if you're on the opposite team. But I knew the boy before he climbed to power. I saw him make mistakes and learn from them, I saw him waver in his wits before gaining enough experience. And as much as I trusted him, as much as I trusted Inej and Jesper, my blood froze in my veins.

For tonight wasn't a simple meeting. It would end in a cross fire, at the best expanse. Kaz wanted to use tonight as an opportunity to clear up the waters and reveal Big Bolliger as a traitor. But of course the paranoid little devil wouldn't tell a soul. So what if something went wrong because the other on the mission were clueless?

"Yes, Morozova, that's what I make of it, supposing they didn't deserted us."

I glare at the short man. How dare he doubt the best in the Dregs' lines? "They're not back yet. None of them? What are they doing?" I muttered to myself. Per heard it anyway.

"How am I to know? I can't wait for the mission's report, that's for sure. But enough pleasantaries. You have a job to do."

When I came back I spoted Jesper losing money he did not have at a gambling stand. "Jesper!" I yelled in relief, startling the sharpshooter.

"Ari," the boy stood up and picked me in a tight hug. Seeing how tall he was, my feet hovered a few centimeters above the floor before he put me down. Taking a better look at my ruffled hair, bruised cheeks and the way I favored leaning on my right side to protect the left leg from too much weight pressured on it, Jesper wrinkled his nose. "You look like crap."

"And might you be an epitome of beauty right now?" Truthfully, the way he carried himself told me the meeting with the Black Tips didn't unfold smoothly.

"I always am," he grinned from ear to ear before worry took over and he studied me more carefully. "But seriously now, are you ok?"

"The regular, I guess," I lifted my shoulders indiferently. "What about you? What happened?"

Jesper's face stiffened. "Big Bolliger's a traitor."

"I know. What I don't know is if there was a fight or not." I looked at him expectantly. He drummed his knuckles over the holders of his beloved twin guns. A flash of anger passed on his features.

"You knew?" A shake of his head. A weak, bitter laugh. "Of course you knew."

"Jesper," I said as gently as I could, hesitating before gripping his arm and rubbing it with my thumb. Trust is the rarest coin in Ketterdam and no matter how many months he worked with us, how used he may get with me and Kaz, the pang remains. "He trusts you. We all do, moy drug. It's just the way he is. Reserved."

"But he told you."

"I wasn't there with you guys, was I?" I wasn't sure what Jesper would make of it. What I even meant. But I hated to see him so hurt. And I couldn't lounge in a long, possibly more harmful explanation. Dirtyhands and Schatten rose together. The two legends are woven into each other, may we like it or not. Jesper only joined the team not that long ago. That would be worse to tell him, right?

The Zemeni boy shot me a toothy smile, slowly coming back into his usual, cheerful self. "Yeah, whatever. About tonight, then, nothing too bad. We're fine."

I nodded, as if my agreement would make it more true. "Kaz and Inej?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. They stayed behind for a bit."

I frowned. Nighttime isn't a nice place to be alone. And despite all of their strength and power, it'd make me feel better if I knew Kaz and Inej were both inside the slat. At least here there are people around to have our backs.

When the door opened I jumped as I turned to search for my friends. But it was only Anika and a few others returning from the streets.

I hid my fists in my sleeves and looked quickly away. But she already spotted me and waved, smiling. Before I could do the same, she dissappeared up the stairs.

Jesper leaned back on the chair, barely stilling his laugh. "So, you and Anika then...?"

"Shut up, Jesper."

It only made him laugh harder. "But seriously Ari, when are you going to tell her you like her?"

"Shut up, Jesper." I don't even know if I actually do, I thought, but didn't voice it. Anika and I weren't close, despite us sharing a bedroom. But something made me wish we were. I'm not sure what, I'm not sure if it's love, curiosity or just an itch of mine – how can I sleep next to a person I know nothing about? What I know is that it's enough to make me both uncomfortable around and away from her. And I don't particulary like that.

"Tsk, tsk, wouldn't have thought you're scared of a crush."

"I'm not scared," I rolled my eyes, breathing normally again and feeling the blush brush off my cheeks. "I don't think it's the right time for it, that's all."

"Why not? We're young and free, now's the time for everything!"

I glared at him viciously. "We're young, but not stupid enough to afford distractions. And we're not free. You're neck deep in debts and I have yet to pay off my own."

Jesper sighed and sat back at the table. "You sound like Kaz when you speak like this. As if allowing yourself to love would stop the money flow."

"It won't," I shrugged, "but it'd be in the way of priorities."

The Zemeni boy shook his head amused. "If you say so...". Then, motioning for me to join him, eyebrows rose in a silent question. "Maybe you'll bring me some luck," he jocked.

"She's a new one," one of the men said, hungry eyes fixed on me.

"Oh, yes," the one holding me on his lap laughed. "Brings me luck, it seems."

"Maybe I can borrow her after this game. You've made enough to buy a new house already, man!"

Shadows came to life on the walls of the Crow Club, stirred by my uneasiness. Waiting for my call, eager to answer and protect me of unseen danger. I relaxed my fingers and hid my trembling hands under my armpits.

"Sorry, Jes. Some other time, yeah?" I move past him then stopped. "Get away sooner rather than later, please. I can't drag you to your bed again after you fall asleep at that table." I threw over my shoulder, jumping over the stairs to my room.

tag list: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

#my writing #writing #the child of moon and stars #shadow and bone fanfiction #female oc #oc x oc #darkling's daughter #female x female #grishaverse fanfic #shadow and bone fic #six of crows fic #six of crows fanfic #the dregs #original character #jesper fahey #anika #per haskell

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birdy-critic · 8 months

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The Mask: Point of View 1

Part 1

What is going on?

I was currently experiencing the worst dizziness in my life. Somehow, I was spinning at absurd speeds like a top trapped in a dryer. I could feel myself bouncing off objects as I raced somewhere I didn’t know. I felt like I was going to throw up. I tried to see some evidence that this tornado was destroying the city, but it seemed to be laser targeted at me.

SO WHY is this happening to me?

Gusting winds and crackling lightning filled my field of view. Occasionally the world outside could be briefly seen, but it moved so quickly that the world passed me by as if in Fast Forward. Arms and hair flitted around me, but they didn’t look like they belonged to me.

How did I get like this?

I racked my brain to recall anything that might have happened that day that could explain this insane spinning.

I honestly wish I could forget the day I had just had. It started out with me being an hour late for work because of an accident caused by some truck that thought driving on the shoulder would be a great way to beat traffic. This of course led to me being shown off to the entire department as ‘an example of someone NOT being a team player.’ The Floor Manager, Stephanie Wilkins always took glee in pointing out workers she thought were ‘weak links’. When I finally started work, two of my coworkers dumped their workload on me claiming that ‘I do it better than they do.’ A small tight ball in my chest tightened a little further every time someone said that to me.

In the afternoon, Stephanie was doing her best Team Player act, soliciting investment in the company from a young handsome executive from some brokerage firm. Not sure what part of Team Player involves caressing the front of the client’s suit and whispering softly in his ear. I don’t know which irked me more. The clear lack of professionalism and abuse of power…or how the man in question was making me wish I could paw at some…

I shook my head and slapped my cheeks. Fantasizing at work was a good way to get further berated by Ms. Team Player.

The rest of the day wasn’t much better. By the time I left work at 4, I was tired, sad, and angry, and I learned that going home with that particular cocktail of emotions would ruin the rest of my night too. I needed SOMETHING positive. Something to cheer me up. So, I went to an antiques store to poke around…”

As I exited my reminiscence my chest tightened. My memory after entering that antique store was blank. While that added credence to the idea that whatever happened to me started there, it didn’t help tell me WHAT happened there.

So I don’t know where I’m going or how I got here. I will have to settle for figuring out where ‘here’ is.

Like a drunkard trying to follow a straight line, I strained my eyes through the twisting tornado trying to get my bearings.

Tall buildings briefly entered my field of view and sped away soon after. I could see bright neon street lighting streaking by like hazy blurs of light.

I must be downtown somewhere, but this just further aggravated my earlier questions. WHY was I headed downtown?

*For some fun~~” a voice purred in my ear.

Where did that come from? I heard it clearly somehow inside this blustering bubble, but the twister is only on me.

Is there someone else here with me?

Before I could investigate this question, I stopped. I felt my head continue to spin until I had to forcibly grab it and hold it still. I finally focused my eyes and realized I was in front of The Serpent, an exclusive and extremely risque nightclub downtown. The executives at work had mentioned it in hushed whispers like some kind of sexual Shangri-la, with a guest list so exclusive it made dinner with the President seem like a cakewalk.

I felt my heart racing. Places like this were where people cut loose, had fun, made mistakes that they would probably regret in the morning. In other words, I had no idea why I was here in the first place.

Despite this, I could feel myself walking forward. I heard the high heels I was wearing clicking loudly on the pavement beneath my feet. I screamed at my legs to stop. I tried to force my body to turn around. Nothing seemed to deter me from my goal.

Then the bouncer moved forward and blocked my path

“Hold it, freak. Where’s your invite?” he said gruffly.

*Some people have no manners* said the voice again. Nobody else seemed to hear it. I covered my mouth and gasped in an affectation of shock.

“Oh NO sir. I am EVER so sorry. Where did I put it…?”

That was the voice I heard before. It was coming from my mouth. But that’s not MY voice. It was sensual and melodic, sounding like every word was intended to allure. HOW could that be my voice?

I decided I would deal with the strange, alluring voice coming from my lips later. This ape in a suit standing in my way wants an invitation. So I should give it to him.

I reached in and was momentarily off balance as my entire arm sank into the bag. I rummaged through it forcefully, finding increasingly strange things like tasers, a spiked dildo, a boa constrictor, and even a convertible. There was even a catsuit and whip that I could only have dreamed of buying given the price tag attached.

As I rummaged through the bag, I decided to just toss a lot of it behind me to make room as I searched. I tossed the convertible behind me with one hand like I was throwing away a cup and it landed on the sidewalk, nearly hitting some pedestrians.

“Oops,” I said, trying to sound innocent.

The bouncer had a dumbstruck look on his face. Eventually he defaulted to his usual approach to things he couldn’t understand. He grew angry.

“Lady, I don’t know what’s going on here,” he began in a low, threatening tone, “But if you don’t show me an invite in 5 seconds, I’ll-”

I held up my hand to tell him to wait.

“Must be in my other bag.”

I pulled my hand out of the purse and stuck it down into the absurdly cavernous space between my breasts.

It must be here somewhere.

As I searched, the bouncer moved forward, his rage clearly growing.

“Lady, I am going to count to 5 and then I’m tossing you to the curb.”

“Calm down, sir. I know I have it somewhere.”

“FIVE!”

I felt the little ball in my chest tightening as the count began. I searched more frantically.

“FOUR!”

My thoughts raced as he counted.

Come on, man. Just give me a minute and I’ll-

“THREE!”

Look, just stop yelling at me and I can find-

“TWO!”

The ball tightened further.

STOP YELLING YOU APE IN A SUIT!!

“ONE!”

The ball popped. I stood stock still for a moment. I felt dizzy as my body twitched slightly. Then, I looked up at the man harassing me and smiled.

“Found it!” I said happily.

I found a button in my chest space. I pushed it and a spring-loaded boxing glove sprang out from my chest and knocked the bouncer to the ground. His face was a bloody mess, with teeth scattered around him and a giant purple mass where his eye was supposed to be. Plastered atop his face was a verified invitation to the Serpent for one, ‘Ms. Greene.’

“I told you I had it. You need to learn to be more patient.” I chided the unconscious lump.

The other bouncer saw his coworker sprawled on the ground with me standing over him and moved up behind me to intervene.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” he yelled, grabbing my shoulder.

There was a popping sound in my head. I felt like I was seeing red. I pressed another button in my breast box and my caboose popped open like a jack-in-the-box, firing a spring-loaded medieval gauntlet backwards. There was a loud crunch sound as I felt the fist hit something soft. Judging by the sharp intake of breath and the short, tortured squeak of pain I heard from the man, I must have hit something important. He proceeded to fall forward onto his front and cry, doubled over and sobbing in pain.

For a moment, this struck me as strange. Buttons in my boobs. Trap compartments in my rump. The sheer oddity of these things made me pat myself down and look all over to check my body. The breasts felt too big, and my ass felt tighter than it should considering how often I skip squats, but everything still seemed to be in order.

As I checked myself out, I noticed my hair. My usual tight brown sponge of curly hair was missing. In its place, I saw jet black locks of sleek straight hair, occasionally streaked with shades of purple and green as they fell down around my head and shoulders. It was the hairdo of a starlet. In fact it looked exactly like the hair of my favorite action movie star; perhaps even more smooth and glossy.

When did I get my hair done? HOW did I get my hair done?? I’ve never been able to-

As I questioned this, a popping sound went off in my head. The questions seemed to fade away. A warm feeling of pleasure overtook me, and I smiled.

Who cares how I got good hair? I should just enjoy it.

I reached into my breast box one more time and pulled out a pair of giant scissors. I held them in both hands and turned towards the crowd forming behind me. Smiling my biggest, most exaggerated smile, I cut the entrance rope and motioned with one hand to the crowd to enter.

“Party on people!” I yelled in triumph.

The small crowd of people that had formed behind me cheered and proceeded to rush inside, pushing their evening’s hero in front of them into the forbidden paradise.

As I entered the building and dismounted from my throngs of partygoers, I stopped in front of a mirror and got a good look at myself. My appearance was startling. A tight purple dress made of some shiny, squeaky material. A bright gold necklace and watch laced with what looked like emeralds. Silver earrings with a strange face design that made them no less beautiful. I had only ever dreamed of wearing such finery. The kind of attire that would have all eyes focused on me instead of being shunted to the background. Wearing this beautiful outfit was a woman that couldn’t be me except the reflection matched my every poke and prod.

Her skin was pale white and free of blemish. Delicates with bright purple nails pulled at the jet black to make sure it wasn’t a wig. Her breasts were round, perky, and full, barely contained in the tight purple dress. Atop all of this was a head of granny apple green, with high cheekbones and a distinct cleft chin carved as if from stone upon the face. It was all strangely beautiful, with darker green lipstick and purple eyeshadow to accent the notable features.

I played with the face’s contours and pulled at the skin. It was smooth and oily to the touch, and stretched like gum in my hands. I started with a smile, and then stretched and contorted the face into insane comical masks. Even movie stars would kill for a face like this. But what should I…?

*Fun…* The word echoed in my head again, enunciated with maximum suggestion. It caused me to let go of my face and touch other parts of myself; parts I would normally feel ashamed to admit I had. The feeling of pleasure overwhelmed me again, and a bright toothy grin formed on my face all on its own.

“Well, since I look like this,” I said to myself, “Let’s see what I can do with it.”

Reaching into the purse again, I found the leather gloves from the catsuit and slowly slid them over my arms. As I flexed the clawed fingers, cooing at the sensation of the leather against my skin, I sauntered into the club to look for prey.

#shemask #shemasktransformation #fanfiction #the mask #first person pov #raven haired beauty #leather catsuit #the mask 1994

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jtl07 · 1 year

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So first I just want to preface that these little rewrites are more just ways for me to understand what it is that irked me personally and also an exercise in writing in general. Not trying to bash anything or anyone, just want to pose a different pov. So if y'all have other thoughts or anything, super open to discussing!

But yeah, episode 6. The thing is, I can see what they’re trying to do here, that they’re trying to show Ava that there’s hope in community, that healing is possible even in the most traumatic of experiences. But for me, I finished that episode feeling disappointed that Ava was being painted as selfish, that other people have it just as bad or worse than her.

The angle that I would have loved is, instead of folks being defensive and trying to get Ava to act a certain way, is to have folks actually try to connect with her. And not in a “let me talk at Ava and dump my backstory to her” sort of way - but actually give Ava opportunity to process what’s going on. (I feel like that’s why she turns to Jillian in e7, to help her get answers to the questions that no one seems to be giving her).

So for this rewrite / alternate take on episode 6 I’m going to ponder adding more opportunity for connection between Ava and other characters, while adding more subtext and “action” (not necessarily fight scenes but having characters being active rather than just static dialogue scenes).

Alright so that said, let’s start episode 6 with Ava dealing with what happened with Lilith (I feel like outside of the funeral in e7, not much attention was given to that event???) - as in, she’s in shock, going through that first town, maybe phases into some kind of locked room and finally breaks down.

Let’s have Mary find her but unable to physically reach her, hearing her in pain and having a moment of sympathy. She doesn’t push but does tell Ava about the village, that it’s safe there, that she’ll be going there and she’s welcome to join.

And since Mary’s still hurt, have her slowly walking, stopping in that cave, alone, but have a moment to also be emotional - over Lilith, over Shannon, over everything - and then in the midst of that, have Ava appear. And maybe Mary stumbles when she instinctively gets into a defensive stance and we still have Ava do her impressive first aid bit. And that could lead us into Mary and Ava connecting, because now they’ve both extended olive branches in a way - Mary not pushing earlier and Ava helping just now - but instead of the whole “you’re not the only one with problems” kind of thing, we could make it about grief and things that are out of our control. They could still talk about finding purpose, finding family, but maybe we could layer onto that a moment where there’s acknowledgement that finding those things doesn’t mean you can’t still be angry (because gosh, both of them - so many of the characters, really - hold so much anger, and rightfully so), that it doesn’t mean everything is fixed; but it helps.

Now the main village/town place - when I watched through the first time, to me, it felt like a sort of introductory/training level that you see in video games where you can try out your abilities in a relatively safe, controlled environment. But this felt weird to me because we’re already halfway through the season…??

So what if instead of this, let's fall back again on connection. Let's lean on the chef dude, have Mary and Ava really get close to him and the restaurant - and then have him be the one that gets possessed. This becomes something new for Ava, because she hasn’t dealt with a wraith in someone she actually knows and cares about, and she hasn’t worked with someone else collaboratively before - plus I just want to have Ava actually learning from someone. Like, during the fight, Mary still gets exasperated but also is teaching Ava and both of them trying not to hurt the dude too much but also having to get the wraith out, and maybe Ava has one of her out of the box but brilliant ideas that drops the dude and ends things and Mary does the “huh, that wasn’t bad” face at her lol

We can still end the episode with Mary leaving Ava behind, but maybe Ava talks to chef dude one more time, maybe have him in the restaurant, patched up but still helping with service. And Ava’s like, wtf are you doing, and the dude says something like, sometimes things happen that we can’t control, can’t understand, can only move forward and do better than we did yesterday. And maybe he says something like, have faith, and Ava can understand the sentiment but doesn’t buy it. Not when she has seen all the pain and death all this causes.

Then idk, maybe there’s a magazine or a tv clip of Jillian and we see a shift in Ava, where it’s like, if she can’t stop all this, she’s at least going to try to understand it (personally, I wasn’t at all expecting Ava to show up at Arq-Tech in e7 so maybe this helps give a sort of through line between episodes).

Yeah, idk, still lots to think about with this episode, and episode 7 as well (mostly about Mother Superion and the rest of the OCS). Lmk if y'all have thoughts, corrections, etc - otherwise, finally going to properly watch e8!

#jt rewrites wn #warrior nun #ava silva #shotgun mary #i just want ava to be understood yknow? it feels like she gets pushed so hard and it's rough to watch sometimes #that said i do appreciate that she's a bit anti-hero ish and wants so fiercely to live

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pepperonidk · 2 years

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v. more myself than i am || all my love

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” - Wuthering Heights; Emily Brontë

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoox f!Reader Summary: lego aisle arguments turn into confessions over waffles Warnings: food mentions Word Count: 4.1k A/N: this is basically a chapter of people just talking lol. lots of dialogue, but sometimes, conversations are what keep us going. I wrote this with the song Rollercoaster by Sundial playing. it has nothing to do with anything, i just wanna promote them lol.

take a look at my pinned post to see how to join the aml taglist!

previous chapter || back to library || next chapter

“Welcome! You guys are nearly an hour late,” Jeonghan chastised them as soon as he opened the door.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo heard you apologize to him as you handed the gift bag of Lego and candy to Jeonghan. “Somebody had a stick up his ass so it took us a little longer to get around.” Wonwoo scoffed at the pointed look you gave him over your shoulder as you walked past Jeonghan and into the party.

You were glad to finally be away from Wonwoo, if you were being honest. The silent car ride was suffocating, and you couldn’t help but be angry at him for his question earlier.

“Why do you care so much?”

Because they’re his friends, you had reasoned. Because you care about him and they mean a lot to him and you would like to mean a lot to him. But you can’t really admit that to the guy who publicly rejected your confession and is now your roommate that you’re kind of friends with.

It was the “kind of” friends that irked you the most. He didn’t make any sense. Some days he was kind to you, and some days he was the same icy Wonwoo who didn’t even read the letter you had spent hours writing. But unfortunately, no matter how he acted at any given moment, he was still constantly on your mind. So much so, that you didn’t even realize your best friends had appeared in front of you with a beverage to offer until you heard his name.

“What happened to Wonwoo?” Mingyu wondered out loud as he looked past you to where Jeonghan was interrogating him at the front door.

“I overheard Jeonghan asking what he did to piss her off,” Seokmin explained as he gestured towards you.

Mingyu hummed in acknowledgment. “So then what happened to you?” He asked with an eyebrow raised.

You let out a sigh as you accepted the soda from Seokmin, opening it up and taking a sip before you explained what happened in the Lego section of Target earlier that day. You also explained why his comment frustrated you more than it should and how you honestly felt kind of silly for being so bothered by it.

“Stop,” Seokmin said as he led you outside to the patio where he sat beside you on the bench and wrapped an arm around you. Mingyu sat down on your other side. “If it bothers you then leave it at that, it’s okay to be upset especially with someone as confusing as Wonwoo.”

You looked across the yard to see him laughing at something Vernon was explaining and you found yourself smiling despite yourself. “I just wish I knew what he was thinking, you know?” You confessed. “Or even better, I wish I didn’t care what he thought of me.”

It felt more than a little bit silly to still be upset by his words. A part of you knew that he didn’t mean it in a malicious way, but was just curious. However, that part was overshadowed by the way your heart still continued to ache at the sight of him, wishing that you could make him laugh the way his friends did.

Now it was Mingyu’s turn to let out a sigh, causing you to turn to him. “It’s no use lingering on it,” he commented. He stood up and extended a hand out to you and Seokmin to help the two of you up. “Do you remember when we were little and we watched Hocus Pocus for the first time?”

Seokmin smiled at the memory. “How could I forget? I was traumatized after the cat reinflated itself.” You let out a laugh too and reached out for Seokmin’s hand, forming a circle between the three of you.

“Are we doing a calming circle?” you questioned. Mingyu nodded as you and Seokmin shared a look, both of you chuckling at the idea. “Okay, think soothing thoughts, you guys. Soothing thoughts.”

“Pizza,” Seokmin called as the three of you began spinning around in a circle.

“Hot chocolate, pumpkin pie,” Mingyu continued as he tried to spin the three of you faster.

“Rain, movie marathons,” you called out, struggling to keep up with the speed of the circle. “Standing still!” You added and immediately felt your own momentum leading you to crash right into Mingyu’s chest. You could feel the rumble in his chest as he laughed and wrapped an arm around you, trying to help you keep your balance.

“Feel better?” You heard Seokmin call as he embraced you as well from behind.

Was there any way you couldn’t feel better? Sandwiched between your two best friends, you couldn’t feel any safer. When the three of you finally broke apart and stumbled your way back to the patio bench, you let out a contented sigh.

“You know,” You began. “I’m really glad we’re going to university together. I don’t know if I can imagine not being with you guys.” If you weren’t already feeling upset about literally everything else, you wouldn’t have noticed the pointed look Seokmin gave Mingyu, who looked away quickly. “Am I… missing something?” you asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” Seokmin said. “Are we missing something?” He raised an eyebrow at his friend who turned around with a guilty look on his face.

“Listen, I–” Mingyu started to speak before you heard Minghao call your name as he ran to you from across the yard with your phone held up. You glanced at Mingyu who let out a sigh of relief at the interruption.

Minghao handed you your phone, just as it stopped ringing. “You left your phone inside,” He panted. “Your dad’s been calling for like 10 minutes.”

“My dad?” you asked as Minghao nodded. “He doesn’t usually call while he’s at work.” By now, the effects of your calming circle had faded, and been replaced with early feelings of panic. You stepped away from your worried friends to find a secluded space to call your dad.

It only took two rings for him to answer. “Hey, honey,” he greeted, already sounding apologetic.

“Hey dad,” you replied. “Is everything okay?” you asked tentatively, trying to stop your mind from immediately jumping to the worst case scenario.

You could hear him let out a sigh before answering you. “Yeah, everything is going well,” he said. “So well in fact, that my boss wants me to stay here for the rest of the month…” the end of his sentence trailed off as he waited for you to respond.

“What does that mean?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

“It means I won’t be seeing you until next month at the earliest,” he replied. It had been almost a whole month since you had seen your dad, the night he dropped you off at the Jeon residence, and it was the longest you’ve ever been away from him.

To say that it was hard to be away from him was an understatement. For so long it had just been you and your dad. Besides Mingyu and Seokmin, he was your best friend and your number one supporter. He was your shoulder to cry on, your favorite gossip-buddy, and you missed him. Phone calls with him have been far and few and between, and they couldn’t match the excitement of coming home from school to have a snack with him while you talked about your day. On top of that, there was a senior awards ceremony this month, and you had been excited for your dad to see you receive an award from the literature and writing department.

But you didn’t want him to know that, so instead you put on a smile and pushed the tears back down. “It’s okay dad,” you replied to him. “I miss you, but I’m sure they’ll miss you more at the restaurant. Besides, Mr. Jeon and Wonwoo have been making sure I eat all my meals and drink enough water and get enough rest.” You let out a chuckle to really seal the deal.

“Okay,” he let out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m really sorry again, but I’ll see you soon, I promise. I love you,” he added.

“You too, dad.” As soon as the red button was pressed, the tears began to spill from your eyes. If it wasn’t for the argument you had earlier with Wonwoo and the anxiety you felt about what Mingyu was going to tell you and Seokmin, it wouldn’t have been this hard. But sometimes, things just add up and make you sad. And that’s okay. You were thankful for the pair of arms that wrapped around you and the soothing voice that reminded you of these things because it was definitely hard to remind yourself.

“Hey,” Seokmin called to you as you rested your head on Mingyu’s shoulder. “Is your dad okay?”

You nodded softly. “Yeah, he’s fine. But he said he won’t be coming home till next month.” By now the tears had kind of stopped and you took a step back from Mingyu, still feeling anxious about what news he would tell you. “Mingyu,” you asked tentatively. “What were you going to tell us earlier?”

Mingyu’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours as he looked across the yard to where everyone else was gathered. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I’ll tell you another day.” His smile didn’t meet his eyes and his words did not convince you to not worry about it. But now was not the time to push him and instead you let it go, letting a beat of silence take over among the three of you.

“There’s something about sunsets in October that just feel poetic,” Seokmin mused aloud as he looked to where the sun was beginning to dip into the horizon. “Do you think the sunset is just as beautiful everywhere?”

Although you know he didn’t mean it, Seokmin’s question made you sad again. Was the sunset your dad saw just as beautiful as this one? Was it just as beautiful when he saw it without you? Or was he like you? Unable to see the oranges and reds in the sky fading into indigo without remembering the smell of the mug of his special hot chocolate that was always waiting for you on cold fall evenings.

Suddenly, all you wanted to do was be away from everyone. While Mingyu and Seokmin were busy discussing the beauty of the sunset, you found yourself sinking back towards the door. It seems however, you weren’t the only one who wasn’t feeling the party mood anymore because you suddenly found yourself alone in the kitchen with Wonwoo, who was still watching the party going on outside with a far away look that made you wonder what was on his mind.

Unsure what to say, you stood at the kitchen island beside him and stared out into the yard where the rest of your friends were about to start party games and let the silence rest between the two of you. You weren’t sure if it was because of the weight of your dad’s call outweighing your petty argument from earlier, but you somehow felt safe here in Wonwoo’s company, comfortable even in the silence.

The silence sat for what felt like minutes until Wonwoo spoke first with a soft voice. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked, looking at you for the first time since you had entered the kitchen. You nodded in response, thankful that he was the one to bring it up and not you. “I’ll just say goodbye to the boys, but you can head to the car first.” You honestly feel a little bit guilty that you were about to leave without saying goodbye, but as if Wonwoo noticed the way you shifted hesitantly, he added “I’ll make sure to give your regards to the birthday boy… I’ll say you weren’t feeling well.”

He handed you his keys, the jingle of his many souvenir keychains providing you with a sense of familiarity. You watched as he walked back outside and put on a smile that didn’t feel as real as the ones you had seen earlier, and made your way to the front door.

“You’re leaving?” A familiar voice called from behind you. Your hand froze on the doorknob as you turned to see Mingyu standing what felt unfamiliarly far away from you.

“Yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “Wonwoo said he was ready to go home.” That wasn’t really what happened, but for some reason you felt guilty for not wanting to spend time with your best friends and their best friends.

“Oh,” Mingyu acknowledged. He paused for a second, letting his eyes wander anywhere else before continuing. Why was he awkward all of a sudden? “I could just take you home if you wanted to stay longer,” he finally added, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he hesitantly took a few more steps in your direction.

On any other day, you would have taken him up on his offer, but thinking back to his words earlier, you had a feeling that making the choice to go with Mingyu would lead to more bad news and that was just something your heavy heart could not handle any more of tonight. So with a soft shake of your head, you turned him down. “Sorry,” you apologized with a sad smile. “I can’t tonight.”

Mingyu nodded, wringing his hands together uncomfortably before shoving them back in his pockets. “Another time then,” he said with the same hollow smile he had earlier before offering to open the door for you. He watched you walk into the now indigo evening, watching until you made your way to the passenger’s seat of Wonwoo’s car and only finally waving goodbye when he heard the lock of the car door, making sure you were safely inside.

Something felt off today, you thought, not just with your own emotions, but with everyone else. There was an air of unnamable sadness that seemed to sit on everyone’s shoulders and it made you feel a little guilty to be wallowing in your own when you could be caring for your friends. It was an easy rabbit hole to fall into, especially sitting alone in the cold and darkness of the car. Realizing how quickly you could snowball, you opted instead to turn the key and start the car, reaching over to start the heater and the radio.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Wonwoo opened the driver’s side and entered the car. “Thanks for starting the heater,” he said with an echo of a shiver in his voice. He plugged his phone in before opening his GPS app. “Do you want to go home?” The tone in his voice implied a second unsaid offer, which you gladly took up.

“Can we drive around for a bit instead?” You asked as Wonwoo hummed in response. He closed out of the app, opting instead to put on his driving playlist as he pulled out from his spot and onto the road.

Much like earlier, the drive was silent. But unlike earlier, there was no tension that lay like a bridge on fire between the two of you, but rather there was comfort like opposite sides of a still lake. You found yourself looking up at him, admiring the way his left hand rested on the top of the steering wheel, and his right hand on the gearshift. His hair, disheveled from brushing falling leaves out of his hair outside, reminded you of the night you drove home from the football game.

It was much colder outside than it was that night, but at this moment, you still felt warm. Much like that night, he was glowing in the city lights. You hoped he couldn’t see you staring at him, but part of you felt like even if he noticed, there was no need to look away.

“Wonwoo,” you called his name in a whisper and he turned to glance at you before turning his attention back to the somewhat empty city streets. “Do you hate me?” The question surprised even you as you said it. But before you could make an attempt to retract it, Wonwoo pulled into a parking lot and quickly parked his car before looking at you with a more serious look than you had seen on him before.

“No,” he answered firmly. “I don’t hate you.” Honestly, you didn’t expect him to answer that quickly, or with that much conviction. Wonwoo looked at the surprised, blank look on your face. You don’t think he expected it either. “What made you think that?” Was he… hurt by your question?

The slight pout on his lips and the way his eyebrows scrunched together made you want to take the question back altogether. “I…” you began, unsure of what to say. Would anything you said even change anything? Deciding that words left unspoken now would be silence you regret later on, you took a deep breath before continuing. “I just never know what you think about me. I know it shouldn’t really matter, but it does. To me, it does. Sometimes, it’s like we’re in sync, like we know each other’s thoughts, but then we argue in the middle of the store and I suddenly feel as small as I did when I first tried to jump off the swings and sprained my wrist in kindergarten.”

You knew that now that you had started, there wasn’t any way for you to stop until you had run out of things to say, so you continued. “I want to know because I hate not knowing. And I know you know what that feels like and I also know how much you hate it too. I’m tired of this weird back and forth, and all this whiplash. There’s too much uncertainty in my life right now, and if I could find even one corner where I just know what’s going on, I’ll take it, even if it means knowing you want me far away from you. So tell me again, and tell me honestly, do you hate me?”

You were breathing hard now, and you prayed that the tears that threatened to spill would recede. There was a bit more you wanted to say, but you knew it wasn’t the time. Balling your fists up to hide how badly your hands were trembling, you looked down at the center console where Wonwoo’s hand was trembling just the same, as if itching to move. You found the courage to meet his eyes to find a surprising tenderness in them.

“I don’t hate you,” he said again with such softness it made your heart stutter. He swallowed before opening his mouth to continue, but not knowing what else to say. For a second, you just stared at him. His features were now tinted with hints of blue and red as you saw the reflection of the neon sign of a diner in his wire-framed glasses. Was the name of the restaurant becoming clearer in his lenses or was he leaning ever so slightly into you?

Before you could realize your eyes were beginning to flutter shut or the way your hand was inching toward his on the center console, you were interrupted by the gnarliest growl from your stomach. Suddenly time was frozen until Wonwoo’s deep laugh broke the silence, soon followed by your own fit of laughter.

Were we about to… kiss? The idea bounced around in your head until the sound of Wonwoo’s voice cracking snapped you out of it. This was not something to fixate on right now.

“I think I owe you some waffles,” was all he said before turning off the engine.

Halfway through a stack of waffles and a very large and very sweet milkshake later, Wonwoo asked you a question. “Did you actually like The Stranger?”

You were confused a second before it faded into surprise that he remembered that interaction. “I did,” you answered honestly, cutting into another piece of your waffle. “But I don’t think I like it as much as I used to.” Wonwoo hummed in thought as he stuffed a whole strip of bacon into his mouth as you laughed at the sight. “Why do you ask?” you asked in between giggles.

“I was reading it again,” he answered after swallowing his bite. “And like you said, it’s just not as good as I used to think it was. Then I remembered what you said to me that day, about stories about life not having meaning.”

You took another bite as you waited for him to continue and watched as he began to mindlessly fidget with the bottle of maple syrup. “I think you’re right about that,” he mused. “Maybe you and I have started to find more meaning in life.” He looked up at you with a small smile.

“You might be onto something,” you replied. You already knew that though. That book stopped being your favorite the day he stole it from you. After that, you were much more interested in the story you were telling with your own life than the hollow life of the man in The Stranger. “What books do you think are actually good then?” you asked curiously.

“It’s kind of dorky,” he began, a blush creeping into his cheeks as he pushed around the remains of his dinner on his plate. “But I’m a big fan of Jane Austen and all those classic romances.” You let out a surprised scoff. You weren’t expecting Wonwoo to be such a romantic. He rolled his eyes as you grinned at him in shock.

“No way?” you remarked. “That’s so… literature-teacher-esque of you.” You leaned back as you took another sip of your milkshake.

“I know,” he agreed. “You should see what my books look like. It’s every literature teacher’s fantasy.” He tried to fight back a smile but immediately failed when he saw how excited you seemed to be upon learning this information.

“Why don’t you be one then?” you asked. “Like seriously? I think you’d be a great teacher. You taught me math, so obviously you’re some kind of miracle worker.” Part of you was joking, but when you saw the way he pushed his glasses up to hide the furrow in his brows, it began to sink in how great of an idea it was.

Wonwoo leaned his chin into his hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never really thought about being a teacher.”

“Well maybe it’s time to start,” you replied cheerfully. “What was your original plan?” Now that you were thinking about it, you realized that for a man of routine and planning and detail, he seemed to have a pretty fuzzy idea of what life would be like after high school. Every time someone mentioned college plans, he’d give some vague and lofty idea to pacify whoever was asking.

“Honestly,” he answered. “I didn’t really have one.” His shoulders fell as if he had been waiting for a long time to admit that to anyone else but himself. “What about you?”

“I’m going to be a writer,” you replied with a smile and Wonwoo couldn’t help but mirror it back to you.

“I believe it,” he agreed. “You’re a great writer.” Your smile turned into a look of confusion. Where had he seen your writing before? You had never written anything outside of your diary except –

Wonwoo let out a cough as he saw signs of recognition light up your features. “I mean, I heard you were a great writer,” he tried to cover up. “I overheard some of the teachers talking about giving you a writing award at the ceremony next week.”

The compliment he was paying you was shadowed by the memory of your phone call with your dad earlier. Wonwoo picked up on the sadness that quickly swept over your features.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his head lowering to try to meet your own lowered eyes.

“Yeah,” you replied unconvincingly before you let out a sigh. “My dad isn’t going to make it to the ceremony. He called me at the party.”

Suddenly, it was Wonwoo’s turn to piece things together. “Ah,” he replied. “I see.”

You cleared your throat and put your face in your hands. “But it’s fine, it’s just a piece of paper,” you tried to convince yourself, but Wonwoo saw past it. However, he could also tell that it wasn’t something you wanted to talk about anymore and you looked at him gratefully when he changed the subject.

“So,” Wonwoo began. “How many more waffles do you think we can demolish?”

You couldn’t hide the smile on your face as you prayed to anyone who heard your thoughts for you to be as content as you were right now.

tagging: @sdoulc @starryjww @sherizaraiyah @comerollwithme @pastel-andme @mingyublues @leahel @nichoswag @freakyfriedrice @pusangmamon @dekusgirl @hokuuu @xxluckydreamsxx @noraehey @dreams-in-different-colours @bunniparadise @woniewhite @thedeeppoet @wonuziex @inlovewith-yeosang @tfmingyu @hanniesrock @ilymarkchan @royal9 @may1996s @hqstimpy @dnylwoo @dobbyflwr @awyunh @calvinkleinhoon

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hitnran · 3 years

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OBSESSIVE EX (gender neutral! reader)

how they deal with you having an obsessive ex

includes: ran, rindou

CW: obsessive behavior, cursing, stalking (ran), phone harassment (rindou), the haitani brothers lowkey kinda scary here (not to the reader) 💀 but i’m just trying to make it fit within their character

— RAN HAITANI

Getting into a relationship with someone like Ran, half of the charismatic brother duo that ruled Roppongi, almost means guaranteed safety wherever you go. His title itself is one that is feared when murmured. Whenever you two leave, he always has an eye and a hand on you. Ran knows well that even if he is feared, he can also be challenged and the last thing he wants is for you to get involved — you would make an easy target for his enemies.

You two were out together on a stroll around the city. Although there was nothing neither of you needed, Ran’s favorite thing is showing you off. Sometimes you start to feel similar to his younger brother, thinking that you’re just a shadow and only known as ‘Ran’s partner.’ But Ran’s intentions were opposite. He wanted everyone to know that it was him that belonged to you and it is him that people would have to deal with if you were ever tested.

As you two are walking, Ran noticed your eyes consistently checking itself to the side. He took note of that and eventually brushed it off since you stopped. But then he noticed that you were being especially keen and scanning the whole area.

“Are you okay, love?” Ran slightly hunches down, getting your attention as your face turns his way. He lightly smiles at you. “Did you see something you liked?”

You swallowed down hard. You could’ve sworn you saw a familiar face, but after trying to scan the area numerous times for the past few minutes, you thought it was just you being paranoid. The last thing you wanted was to worry Ran and cause a scene.

“I’m okay,” You shook your head, returning a light smile. You grabbed on his arm, this time a little tighter. “Let’s turn into this corner.”

Ran knows when you’re lying. He knew something made you uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to force you to tell him. Instead, he’ll make it his own problem too and deal with it himself.

This area was his territory and everyone knew it. It was almost as if Roppongi, a city known for liveliness, calmed down ever so slightly if one or both of the brothers were out. Everyone’s gaze wound be kept low and their conversations would go mute as they walk by.

At that moment, Ran could feel a pair of eyes staring your way. He won’t make it obvious though.

“Love,” Ran called out to you. You looked up his direction and he placed a hand against your lower back. “Rindou’s gonna throw a fit if I don’t bring back food for him. How about you go into the restaurant and order first while I call him and ask what he wants?”

You felt at ease hearing that you two were finally going to be in somewhere indoors, but it made you nervous that he would be separated from you for just a little while.

“Don’t wanna bring something back he won’t like and have him complain,” Ran lightly laughed, trying to ease your clear discomfort. He placed a hand over your head. Taking out his phone to add to his act. “I’ll be quick.”

After some hesitation, you gave in. It was a public space after all, so it shouldn’t have been anything to worry too much about. He watched as you entered the place before turning around, sending chills to the person who had been following you two around this whole time.

“Would be a shame if I left them alone for too long, wouldn’t it?” Ran gave off a sinister grin, slowly walking towards the person. “Wouldn’t want anyone to take them away…especially someone like you.”

Ran knew who this person was. He was an obsessive ex of yours that just would not leave you alone and accept the separation despite it being years passed. He gulped hard, nervously stepping back, not thinking that he would get caught.

“You were so bold to even follow us in the first place, why so shy now?” Ran smirked, hiking up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “This is the first time you’ve heard of me or something? I should introduce myself to you well and hard then.”

Almost ten minutes had passed since you’ve been waiting for Ran. You sat patiently and waited. Your best guess as to what’s taking him so long revolves around Rindou. Maybe he was complaining about how he wanted food from a different place or being picky about menu opinions. Just as you were about to raise yourself from your seat to check up on Ran, you saw him enter.

“Did I make you wait too long?” Ran appeared, seating himself in front of you. The worse case scenario you had in mind was that he got into a fight, but in front of you, he looked just as how you last saw him. “You know how Rindou is.”

Your chest became relaxed and you gave a small smile, shaking your head, “What did he want from here?”

“I didn’t even listen to what he said,” Ran teased, opening up his menu and leaning back against the chair. You felt his legs sandwich your calves from beneath the table. “He can order it himself. All my money is going to you today.”

And that was how Ran liked it. Although Ran wanted everyone to know that he belonged to you, he knew how important it was for others to know that you belonged to him too. The image of the face of your ex is burned so clearly into his brain — face all bloodied up, mauled almost, as he failed to even whisper for forgiveness.

“I think there’s only one way I’m gonna let you outta here alive,” Ran kicked his body down with force, hearing something shift in his jaw. He couldn’t give half a damn about it. “Do you know what that is?”

Your ex was visibly beaten and weak now, barely able to even blink or properly form a sentence. Though, with his adam’s apple slightly moving from fear, Ran took it as a response.

Grabbing him by his hair upward, Ran bent down, looking straight at him, “You’re gonna leave them alone and never show your goddamn face again. If it wasn’t fucked already before, it sure is now. I promise you I’ll know if you’re even barely visible or a mile away, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Ran thought it was so disgusting how someone like you could ever have your time wasted on someone low like this ex of yours. Even if Ran saw him and his brother above everyone else, he always put you above him.

“Maybe even after this, I’ll send one of my men to go and beat the shit out of you every day so you could suffer for as long as you’ve tried to bother Y/N.”

— RINDOU HAITANI

Rindou can’t even remember what it took for you two to even reach this state of your guys relationship. He convinced himself that it was Ran, his older brother who wouldn’t shut up about how he was going to take you if Rindou didn’t make a move.

It genuinely surprises himself even whenever he looks your way, observing every detail and soaking in the idea that you are someone he can call his.

You two were watching a movie, or rather, supposed to. Rindou was too focused on side-eyeing you every now and then. You caught him a few times, but he would brush it off with comments like “this movie is boring” or “I’m just checking to see if you fell asleep.”

He would snap himself out of a trance after hearing your phone ring beside you. You eyed it once, looking at the caller ID and ignoring it. It wasn’t enough to cause Rindou to worry - it’s not his problem if you just didn’t wanna answer a call, it was your guys’ time anyway.

But then it rang once more again. Your ringtone dragged itself out halfway through before Rindou slightly raised his hand from your hip, pointing to the phone on the side of the couch.

“You not gonna answer that?” He asked.

You shook your head, eyes focused on the TV, “It’s fine. It’s an unknown caller ID.”

Rindou shrugged, ignoring it once again, but after a few more calls and your phone receiving back to back text messages, it was starting to irk him. He was close to just grabbing your phone and answering the call himself, but you were quick to act before him, just shutting it off.

“It must be spam or something,” You sighed, sitting back down.

“Yeah, well whatever it is, good thing you shut that damn thing off. That shit was annoying,” Rindou sighed, curling his arms around you again. “Let’s change the movie too or something. This one is boring.”

One thing about dating Rindou is that he seems uninterested in absolutely everything he does. Although you avoid thinking like that when it comes to your relationship with him, you always remind yourself that Rindou is someone who deeply cares for you. He shows it very differently compared to others, but you know.

He can recall a memory from a few weeks ago where you kept getting calls in the middle of your guys’ date. It annoyed him, but not as much as it annoyed you. You’ve pressed the red decline button at least five times now, stressing over it and spilling out everything about your previous ex.

At the end of your rant, Rindou grabbed your phone, picking up the call and saying words as simple as “leave them alone.” It was so simple, but for the next few weeks, it was silent. You finally thought you were free of harassment thanks to your boyfriend, but recently, they’ve been coming back as unknown caller IDs and more frequent than before.

Halfway through the movie, Rindou felt your body become more loose and relaxed beneath him. Your breath became slower and more steady. You had fallen asleep. He thought it was ironic to have someone as angelic as you in the arms of someone like him - a gang member always involving himself in trouble, even just for fun.

He stared at your phone just a reach away and then back at you. The last thing Rindou wanted was for you to be uncomfortable, or really, anything that isn’t where you aren’t happy.

When you woke up, the TV was shut off and you felt a blanket drape over your body. You realized you had fallen asleep from earlier, but you were expecting to find your boyfriend with you as well. That was when the door swung open and you were greeted with Rindou.

“Rindou?” You slowly let out, still adjusting from waking up. “I didn’t know you left.”

He raised a bag up midway in the air, it’s a bag from a bakery you often bought from, “You kept murmuring about it in your sleep. Didn’t want you to wake up all grumpy.”

“I don’t wake up grumpy!” You protested, watching as he took his seat next to you and unpacking all of your favorites.

“Yeah, okay,” Rindou joked. He listened to you puffing out before wrapping yourself around his arm.

“Thank you though,” You murmured out of embarrassment - maybe he was half right.

“It’s nothing,” He replied, softening his face into a grin. “Must’ve been hungry though if it got you talking in your sleep and drooling on my arm.”

You didn’t even know about half of the things he does for you, but he didn’t mind it, because if you were happy, then that was all that mattered.

It made Rindou feel guilty to turn on your phone and look through it. It wasn’t something that he ever felt the need to do - he trusted you and it felt wrong if you weren’t aware that he was using it. Though, at this time, he felt like it was for the better.

While you were silently sleeping, he browsed through your texts. It’s that same person - your ex back again to bother you. Rindou scoffed, making sure it wasn’t loud enough to wake you up, but he was angry. He clicked his tongue whilst composing a message.

Rindou knew you would never be so stupid as to meet up with someone like this, especially not after already experiencing it once. It was a good thing that it was just Rindou posing as you though. How delighted your ex felt to have finally received a response to you - ‘Let’s meet up here.’

Rindou thought it was so pathetic. This guy had no idea what he looked like, let alone that you even had a boyfriend. So when Rindou’s immediate reaction upon seeing him was to throw a punch, he was shocked.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Your ex cried out, trying his best to dodge his attacks but failing in between his words and attempts.

“Me?!” Rindou snapped, pushing him to the ground and twisting his arms. “Speak for yourself.”

The man beneath him screamed in pain, “I-I’ll call the cops on you and have you arrested!”

“Yeah? You think they’ll give me less time if I tell them I was just trying to teach a creep a lesson?” Rindou pulled back on his arms a little harder, tendons and muscles stretching themselves out of place.

“T-The hell are you talking about?!” He stuttered out.

“Don’t bitch around. Might end yourself up in there if you keep this act of yours up - I’ve been once before,” Rindou smirked, pulling back more and more on his arms. “It was fine for me. My big bro and I even got some respect while in there, so what’s gonna happen when they hear about your name from me? You’re fresh meat to them.”

“W-Who even are you?!”

Rindou scoffed, “The same guy who warned you once to leave Y/N alone. I should’ve honestly went to find you myself personally and beat the shit out of you, but I hate wasting my time.”

Your boyfriend let the man go. If his arms weren’t all bent out of place and dislocated, he’d be crawling away by now. It was a sight that Rindou would laugh at. Upon seeing that his phone had fallen out of his pocket, the same phone used to consistently harass you, Rindou stomped down hard, breaking it into bits and pieces.

“Don’t waste my time again. Next time you do, call the cops, I promise you I won’t care if they catch me killing you,” Rindou turned his back around.

#tokyorev x reader #ran haitani #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader

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rotessaboggs · 2 years

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How realistic should a work of fiction be? ~aka this is me rambling~

Warning: This is going to be more like me getting all of my messy thoughts out of my head than a coherent in-depth analysis. So read it at your own expense lol. Still, I would really love to read you guys’ thoughts and opinions on this topic. This is something I have been pondering upon for quite some time but I didn’t have the urge to write it down until I saw people on Twitter “arguing” over what a therapist said about Mike.

Also, English is not my native language so sorry in advance for any spelling/ grammatical mistakes or ambiguous/ confusing word choices. I won’t mind if you guys point it out for me.

First of all, let me start off with some chit-chats (you guys can skip it if you like). I have no intention of “forcing” my opinions on others so I want to make it clear how I am like which can affect my viewpoint intrinsically.

A few years ago, I generally didn’t care much about films or TV shows, to be honest. I did watch movie analysis for fun but I have always been a book lover and I tend to gravitate towards classic literature because they usually make heavier impacts on me (I may use some examples of classic lit later on). I usually opt for classic lit because I feel more certain that it has the thing I love - a character-driven narrative in which we get to dive deep into a character’s inner self, explore all their turmoils in exquisite detail, and observe a natural progression in their thoughts and feelings.

It was in late 2017 or early 2018 that I watched a video explaining the first two seasons of Stranger Things that I got interested in the show. It was specifically Noah’s acting and Will’s possession arc in season 2 that made me become a fan, not gonna lie. I was super excited to watch season 3 right when it came out. And … It made me so disappointed that I felt weirdly left out when other people all seemed to enjoy it. I thought maybe it was just me and I didn’t think of the show at all during the three-year period between season 3 and 4. I clearly didn’t know that Will is gay or pay any attention to the underlying problem in mlvn’s relationship. That kinda qualifies me as one of the general audience, right? Volume 1 blew me away and made me hooked on this show again. And then I came across posts and analyses about Will and Mike (in season 4 and other seasons) and I was even more blown away by all the subtexts and parallels (you guys are AMAZING!). In one way or another, I support byler because if it is really the direction the show is heading towards, it proves that the piece of entertainment I am consuming at the moment has so much depth, breadth, and width. And that has always been the thing that gives me an amazing sensation of blissfulness and satisfaction when I enjoy art. It makes me feel like a diver making her way down the mysterious depth of the ocean, being fascinated by all the questions and wonders.

Thank you for getting through that. Let me get to the main question now.

How realistic should a work of fiction be?

I have seen a lot of people say things like “Stranger Things is a show about a girl who throws off a car with her mind and alternate dimensions with monsters but gay characters in the 80s is where you draw the line, really?” Although I agree with the overall sentiment here, there is always something irking in the back of my mind about this argument, about when things should be realistic and when the writers can just do anything they want.

In this case, I won’t bring all the supernatural things into this discussion because I think the matter is not whether things are realistic or not, it’s more about whether all the supernatural elements really align with each other in the grand scheme of things, whether later discoveries explain or disrupt the set of established rules and norms (which can be absurdly unrealistic) we have from earlier seasons. Although there have been quite a few inconsistencies, especially in regard to the Upside Down as people pointed out, there is still the last season 5 in which more will be explained so yeah … let’s wait and see how it will pan out.

What I do care though is the characters, their personal developments, and the dynamics they have with each other.

Back to the therapist I mentioned earlier, I don’t know exactly what she said but as far as I hear from other people, she explained Mike’s behaviors in a way that is favorable to mvln so undoubtedly, mlvn shippers use it as their proof. Meanwhile, they are pretty much against an analysis of a person with film degrees and experience in media literacy. On the side of byler, there is an opposite response: more in favor of the latter, of course.

In my opinion, this is pretty much a gray area. On the one hand, I can see why people cling to the analysis of the therapist because characters are humans and their behaviors and thought process can be explained through the lens of psychology just as normal human beings. On the other hand, they are also fictional entities who play a part in a story, directly engage the audience into a narrative, and are the means through which the emotional impacts are created. Rather than seeing this in a black-and-white manner like “it’s not realistic to do this or that” or “oh come on it’s fiction,” I would say the boundary between the realistic and creative aspects is pretty blurry, especially when people are just talking generally about the show without specifically focusing on a character, relationship, or plotline.

A basic opinion that I first had about this is that: the journey that a character goes through should make sense and make the audience feel like it’s relatable to a certain extent (or at least understandable). But to adhere strictly to reality for the sake of being realistic isn’t it. That personal journey, with its progression, climax, resolution, and aftermath, has to serve a purpose, or in another word, it has to be purposeful and consequential.

People argue that Will being gay, in love with Mike and potentially having his feeling reciprocated + having a happy ending isn’t realistic because it’s the 1980s - a really homophobic period. They believe that it would be more realistic and accurate for Will to be rejected or something along the line. But if it is the path his arc is heading towards, then I wonder for what purpose then?

(This thought came after I finished this whole writing so I don’t know where to put it except here. Consider it an irrelevant note if you like) So … When I think of the word “realistic” when talking about fiction, I recall a quote that one of my professors mentioned in our class: “Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.” I question if it can be applied in this case. Although the 1980s was not a great period of time for gay people, was there anyone who actually got to have a happy ending? If those people exist, is it “unrealistic” for us to tell their stories instead of the conventional one - the one with no joy and happy ending at all? OK maybe that’s not what realistic actually means and maybe I’m way off base.

To be as close as the reality of the time is an obvious answer that some people may cling to but is it enough to be the drive of the arc of a main character?

I am currently reading “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall'' by Anne Bronte and I am pleasantly surprised by how progressive the book’s ideology is considering that at the time it was published, women were devoid of any independence of their own and viewed as the properties of their husbands. To see a woman of that time (not only the heroine of the book but also the very author) deliberately going against that mindset is empowering indeed. The things happening in the book aren't necessarily “realistic” but sometimes we have to defy reality to get a message across and to create an emotional impact. Particularly when it comes to a progressive ideology like feminism or LGBT+ rights, by defying the reality, the writers are able to create a work that continues to be impactful decades or centuries later on. Or on a much more personal scale, we may say it’s a way of self-fulfillment for the authors who didn’t get a chance to live a better life (like Jane Austen with all of her books). Either way, there is a purpose.

On the other hand, there are also authors who don’t defy the rules and norms of the time and try to make their stories realistic. I always think about “Tess of the d’Urbervilles'' by Thomas Hardy in regard to this because that book hurts me like hell with its pessimistic progression and devastating ending. Spoiler alert, the main protagonist of the book doesn’t get a chance to escape the bleak reality of her life and the love story in the book doesn’t have a happy ending at all. Upsetting as it is, it makes sense when we learn more about Thomas Hardy. He is a person who is known for “his stoical pessimism and his sense of the inevitable tragedy of life.” Although one of his most popular books “Far from the madding crowd” has a happy ending, there are still a whole lot of pessimistic things and tragedies that plague nearly all the portions of the book. Also, sticking to a realistic portrayal of the society and having the characters suffer immensely can be a way of social critique, having the general audience confronted with unfairness and cruelty of this world, to encourage them to actually think about justice and equality instead of being indifferent towards those matters.

Now, based on what we know of the Duffer brothers (there are other writers as well, but overall, they created the whole thing in the first place so let’s just narrow it down to them), which side would you think they gravitate towards?

Depressing as the show can get sometimes, it still offers us a message of hope and optimism, as well as emphasizing the power of self-esteem, friendship, and love. As someone who has always felt like an outcast, a second thought, and someone who tried to seek validation from other people to feel worthy in high school, I find the show relatable and inspiring, and I believe that it’s the effect the show creators want to bring about.

If Will’s feeling for Mike is not reciprocated and he somehow ends up sacrificing not only his heart but also himself in season 5, what message and effect do you think that would bring? Not just in the LGBT+ community but also people who find themselves resonate with Will in any certain ways.

Counter arguments

One may argue that well, if you want Mike and El to break up, it would still suck because she has suffered a lot and deserves love and happiness. Now I would support this if it were not for the things happening in episode 9 and her overall character arc. To be honest, I didn’t really care about El in earlier seasons because I tend to just hyper-fixate on one character at a time. But there are aspects of her arc this season that I find particularly relatable and touching. It’s her need to feel accepted, validated, and loved.

At the beginning of the season, the foundation upon which she depends her self-esteem comes from the outside, which as we have all seen, causes even a lot more trouble to her mental health. All the bullies and harassment and then the lack of love received from Mike - all contribute to pushing her closer to the edge. At first, her coping mechanism is shrugging it off, putting it aside and pretending that all is good. It really doesn’t help that she can’t be honest with Mike about her struggles although hypothetically, they should be able to be so if their relationship is healthy and advantageous to both sides. I think all the lies are pretty much rooted in insecurity as she is an original person now without any superpower. She has been trying to find herself for several seasons but this is the first time there is no “superpower” - the main thing that many people see when they see El: a thing that they may depend upon in dire circumstances, or at worst weaponize for their own benefit. Her being left without it makes the issue of finding herself even more pressing because it seems now to her that she is no longer as helpful as before.

Despite the facade of happiness, all the distress is still there, waiting to surge up, breaking the dam when the time comes. That time being at the Rink-O-Mania. After that, we finally get the chance to see her true thoughts and feelings. We see that under the facade of happiness, those demeaning labels and names have really caught up to her and affected the way she defines her self-worth. It doesn’t just stop at “I’m different. I don’t fit in.” She literally sees herself in the worst light possible - a monster - something that brings destruction and death.

So the main character arc of El for the rest of the season (and I believe it will continue in season 5) revolves a lot around her defining her very self-worth (she alone knows herself best, not anyone around her; not Hopper, not Mike, her), making her own decisions despite the biggest authority figure in her life - Papa - saying “NO,” and most importantly, accepting herself (and her abilities) for what things are. If need be, she is going to use them in a violent way, like fighting against Vecna or the military, or use it to save Max - her dearest friend. When I first watched episode 9, I was a bit annoyed by the fact that they have El revive Max in such a way because it feels like they want to avoid a main character’s death. But when I ponder upon it a bit more, I see it as a beautiful contradiction with how her power has been used continuously in every season - something that causes damage and death vs. something that can revive life. There is no clear-cut definition like the monster or the superhero because these words imply certain qualities that completely contradict each other and cannot co-exist in one entity, that entity being El. She is Eleven and she is more complex than what those labels can ever describe.

Now this is exactly where I have issues with Mike’s monologue. Because he keeps going on and on about her power (a lot of which isn’t even accurate) and calls her a superhero. Many people have talked about this but let me put it down here just to make things clear: Mike is holding El back from her personal development. She cannot open up to Mike about her life in California, suppressing her negative feelings and thoughts all the way, because he has always looked up to her for her abilities and she can’t bear his pity if he knows the truth. She feels unloved because Mike cannot write the word “love” to her but once again she tries to put that aside. Mike’s words after she hits Angela triggers her traumatic experience at the lab - the one which makes her feel like a monster. And then when she finally gets to see that there is no such thing as a monster or hero, she being way more complicated than what others dictate her to be, Mike once again brings back the word “superhero.”

OK I didn’t intend to write that much about El, which is a bit funny considering that my favorite character is Will. I am feeling like I am driving at night without any headlight so let me end this part with a question: If she continues her relationship with Mike in season 5 without both resolving all the underlying problems in their relationship, it being the fact that they cannot really be themselves around each other and therefore, hindering their own personal development due to each being the main source of validation for the other, what purpose would it serve? What emotional impact and message can that bring about at the end of the day? What is potentially the climax of resolution of all these underlying issues that have lain around for seasons?

The psychological (realistic) and narrative (fictional) aspect of a character’s personal arc is so intricately interwoven to each other that to me, to erase one side from the argument (to completely cling to the analysis of a therapist) portrays a black-and-white way of looking at the show. I still love listening to character analysis of people who have knowledge of psychology though, because I love psychology a lot but I’m not going to forget that I’m watching a show in which everything has a sense of purpose and has to fit into a narrative. At the moment, we still have a whole season left and none of the characters have completed their arc yet, not to mention we are kept in the dark about some of the character’s actual thoughts and feelings and the only thing we can do now is deducing from what we see or hear from the show and other related sources of hint.

As you may realize, I have not mentioned anything like subtexts, parallels, foreshadows, etc. - things that are a part of the craft of storytelling, which further distances a work of fiction from real-life events. But as many people have already written amazing analyses in this respect, there is no need for me to mention it here.

So after all this rambling of mine, how realistic should a work of fiction be?

In my humble opinion, it should be realistic enough to make all the emotional and cognitive processes of the characters make sense, but reality should not shackle creative freedom. It should depend on the writers to decide whether to strictly stick to reality for social critique or to divert from it to present a message of hope. There should still be room for creativity and liberty to create a narrative (with all its parts like exposition, rising/falling actions, external/internal conflicts, climax and resolution) that serves to deliver the message of the writers as well as creating emotional impacts. These two aspects intertwin with and complement each other, and therefore, not to be considered separately without mentioning the other.

In the case of Stranger Things, we have yet to get the whole picture of the narrative. Therefore, there is no conclusive answer as to why Mike behaves the way he does when his personal arc is still ongoing. Psychological knowledge may provide some theories but who knows if it actually aligns with what the writers have in mind. Until season 5 drops, it remains to be something like Schrödinger's cat.

If you get through this mess of a writing, thank you a lot. This is the first time I have ever written something this long without it being class assignments. As I said, this is me dumping all my thoughts out of my head so it’s really all over the place. Thank you a lot for reading! I would love to hear you guys’s opinions.

“Good morning! And in case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight!”

#byler #will byers #editting this makes me feel like my eyes are gonna pop out #i try to be as objective as i could but i don't deny that there is a bit of bias here and there #hope you guys enjoy it #let me know what you think #byler is endgame #byler is requited #byler is real

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sparkling-moonbeam · 3 years

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💜Scaramouche x Reader💜

A/N: This is an idea that suddenly popped out of my mind so I decided to write it. The reader is gender-neutral and this is a fluff. Enjoy reading and have a nice day!

Oh and there are some curse words cause it's Scara.

💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜

Being a harbinger is something you can’t be fully proud of. At least, that’s how you feel upon staring at the badge the Tsaritsa gave you. But you don’t really have a choice, you can’t just pass an opportunity of making your life a bit easier. Even if you try to deny the offer, your head would be a target for the Fatui. Surviving in the cold weather of Snezhnaya is already a pain in the back, you don’t want to make it worse.

Your job as a harbinger is really simple. You seldom cut someone’s throat as you’re more often assigned in “gathering information from the inside” type of missions. When it comes to highly secured territories, you’re the one to take the lead. You don’t need assistance or anything as you mostly take the act you also planned and set it in motion. Maybe it’s from the experience of once working in front of many people, wearing a mask to suit everyone’s taste, pursuing them to trust you.

As the Tsaritsa told you, you’re competent. A people pleaser like you can read people so easily that one look can immediately give you an inference on the personality you will need to portray on your target. When it comes to finishing someone, you do it quickly. As soon as you got their trust, it was also the time to sing them a lullaby to their own doom.

A sigh escaped your lips, being a harbinger sets you in the boundary of everything. It always felt like you’re in between of opposing arguments. It’s thrilling but also confusing, maybe it’s just your morals kicking you in the guts but it’s too late for that. The moment you bow down in front of the Tsaritsa’s throne, it was all gone.

“I never knew a deaf could be a harbinger.”

Your eyes shifted from your badge to the source of the voice. The sixth harbinger, casually hanging out in your office’s couch. He must have entered your office while you’re busy paying attention on your thoughts.

“Do you have any idea how many times I knocked on your door? I would’ve thought you’ve been killed in your office if I didn’t know you any better,” he continued.

“I’m thinking about important stuff, I didn’t notice.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t even bother to apologize, how rude.”

You blinked at him, staring to his eyes. Scaramouche, or also known as Balladeer has been the one to always barge into your office like it was his own for the first months. The first time you met him was just like this, except the fact that you’re working on paper documents that time and he didn’t knocked, he just barged in. You remember how he didn’t ask your name and where you from, just straight up gave the file the Tsaritsa wanted to give to you, informing you with a bunch of small insults here and there before leaving and slamming the door.

Your first thought was maybe he didn’t like you or your impression, not that it matters anyway. Until you found out that he also does that to other harbingers, especially when he’s having too much to work with in his plate.

“You know, no matter how long you looked at that badge, it won’t disappear.”

You look at the balladeer with his statement. He stood up, slowly walking towards your table as he crossed his arms. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this since it’s disturbing my thoughts, are you really…chickening out? After being here for so long, that’s quite disappointing.”

You let out a scoff at his question, your eyes narrowing at his glinted eyes. You know how Scaramouche is, the way he works with his words to initiate tension. You won’t fall for it but still you wanted to admit how well he can cause tension and get away from it.

“You’re asking…me? What happened to your ‘good intuition’, the sixth harbinger?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “That’s more like you. I just hate how you always look at your stupid badge every time I see you, it irks me.”

“That’s more like your problem, not mine.”

“I hate it still, so I will need an explanation.”

“Wow, is this manipulation 101?”

“Y/n.” He sternly called your name, his eyes softening a bit. “I wanted to know if something is bugging your mind, I’ll help if I can.”

You remained silent as a sigh escaped your lips. You reached for the file you’re supposed to read a while ago if only you didn’t space out. “It was nine days ago..”

He hummed urging you to continue. He sat down on the chair opposite to yours, waiting for your next words.

“When I learned something about a certain topic, it’s…quite bizarre.”

You looked at him seriously, his indigo orbs meeting yours. You can see how his trying to listen…how his patience is slowly thinning out on your slow words and his own pretention.

A smile formed your lips. “Gaslighting. Oh, what a bizarre topic and thing to do, right Scaramouche?”

You dramatically placed your hand on your chest as you gave him a look of pity. He clicked his tongue before standing up, fixing his hat in the process.

“Fuck you and your stupid badge.”

You laughed. His visible frustration is entertaining, especially when he cussed. Something about his cussing words just hits deeply, you can’t help but laugh.

“I waste my time for this stupid shit. I should’ve known.”

As he took a step away from table, you quickly stood up, reaching for his hand to stop him. He looked back at you with an annoyed expression. He was about to slap your hands off him but he stopped as soon as he heard you talk.

“Wait, alright. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not half wrong but..I get the glimpse of what you’re trying to do. Just sit down. I promise, no more jokes.”

It took a couple of seconds before he spoke up. “No more fucking jokes.”

You nodded. He let out a sigh before he propped down on the chair again. You sat again too as you compose yourself.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You bit the insides from your cheek to prevent yourself from chuckling. That’s more like him, you thought.

“This badge isn’t mine, dumbass.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it from an agent? A traitor perhaps? Just say the word and I’ll finish them off-”

“No need for violence, it was from a harbinger.”

His eyes widened a bit. “Did you…killed a harbinger? Y/n, that’s not how you raise your rank. You’re a trai-”

“I didn’t kill someone, why are you insisting that?”

He shrugged, leaning on the chair as he hums. He must have been playing with you as a revenge from earlier. What a child.

“It’s from a harbinger that’s been bugging me. Not in a bad way,” you cleared out before he can even decide to say a violent statement again.

“Bugging you but not in a bad way? What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

You mentally facepalmed, of course he wouldn’t know. He probably never felt that way for someone too. Now, you’re rethinking your decisions on telling him. Time for a more direct approach.

“I think I like someone.”

Silence.

You were replied by silence for almost a minute before a chuckled erupted from him. You shook your head as you listen to his laugh.

“You like someone? And you stole their badge because you like them? What a creepy move, are you a stalker?”

You rolled your eyes before you stand up, holding the file on your arms. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll need to submit this file before dinner time, bye.”

As you held the doorknob, you can still hear his laughter from your back. Maybe, you’ll tell him some other time but, you promised yourself. You even practice on the mirror on what to say, it’s ridiculous. Your eyes landed on the badge. Every time you look at it, it reminds you of the glint in his eyes then you’ll see your reflection, making you ask yourself on how did you get yourself into this.

“Hey, Scara.”

You turned around, his laughed slowly stopped as he looked at you.

“Remember the camp last month?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you asking me about such a horrible day.”

“Childe accidentally took your badge then replace it since you were pretty mad that day. It won’t be a good result if you’ve known he touched some of your belongings.”

He blinked. “And you didn’t tell me? That rascal, good thing he know what will happen.”

“I actually found it so here you go.”

You hummed, taking a last look on the badge before you throw it to him. He easily caught it with one hand, staring at it for a second. You saw how his eyes widen a bit before glancing at you again.

“This badge…is mine and what you said about it earlier…”

Your throat felt dry the moment you meet each other eyes. You tried to smile, forcing yourself to formulate some words your mind came up with.

“You’re making me feel complicated things, it’s unfitting for a harbinger.”

#genshin impact scenarios #scaramouche x reader #balladeer #genshin #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact fatui #genshin impact #genshin oneshot #genshin fluff #inazuma #scaramouche will you do the fandango?#genshin impact x reader

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shinescape · 3 years

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Hawk Eyes

Bodyguard Seonghwa x Reader

Requested!

note: i might have went overboard with this one (jk). Thank you for the request anon and enjoy the read!

At this point, you thought that the stares and murmurs would die down but apparently not so. The other students really made it obvious that they were whispering about you or more like the person following behind you.

It was ridiculous but your father being the protective person he was assigned you a personal bodyguard. You honestly didn’t want it but the Park Family has a history of working with your family and Seonghwa was no exception.

He took his job quite seriously since he was trained at a very young age. Both of you went to the same school and even then he would make sure that no one bullied or pulled pranks on you.

One time you walked into the classroom and a bucket of flour poured onto you had him furious. He was still in training back then but somehow he already ingrained in his head that he needed to protect you at all cost.

You were currently walking in the busy hallways to your morning class. The crowd always made you feel anxious and uncomfortable but knowing that Seonghwa was right behind put you at ease.

A group of boys were goofing around as they approached you and one of them accidently pushed you to the lockers with his body.

Instead of hitting the lockers, the side of your head was cushioned by a palm. Thanks to Seonghwa’s fast reflexes and close proximity, your head was saved but the group of boys wasn’t.

Seonghwa stood in front of the group and glared at them, he knew they were trying to act like nothing happened when the guy who pushed you knew exactly what he did was on purpose. He was taller and looked way too intimidating for them to leave without at least a bruise.

But you stepped in and said, “He’s in a bad mood. It’s best that you leave or he’ll slam your head next.” You smiled at them and that was enough to make them turn back from where they came from and ran away.

“You should have made them apologise.”

“Nah, it’s not like I’m going to see them again anyway.”

You still find it bothersome how your father made Seonghwa follow you to college every single day, like a shadow. Before, he would wear those black formal suits and would sit in every class you had which was seriously uncomfortable.

People were wondering if your family was dealing with some kind of underground business and thus making you friendless up till now.

After having to negotiate with your father almost ten times, he agreed that Seonghwa was to only wait outside of every class and wear normal clothes like any young adult his age.

Your assigned bodyguard was surprised when he knew about the new arrangement and you can’t believe he reacted as if you’ve abandoned him when it’s not. It took him some time to get used to it and would accidentally follow you inside the lecture hall like he was now.

You turned on your heels and lightly pushed him out of the door. “Hwa, please go and eat breakfast or waste time at the mall while I finish. It’s four hours of class.” You said tiredly, this was not the first time and he would answer the same thing again and again.

“I’ll wait out here. Text me if you need anything.” He gave you a professional smile that you wished he would not since it felt so weird when you know each other for so long. But being in this line of job, he had to do it and he insisted on it.

You grumbled knowing that he’ll stand right outside and do nothing but glare at anyone that passed by. He wasn’t paranoid, more like protective after how many incidents you got involved back in school.

Four hours passed by and everyone including you were sluggish as hell. Your back aching, arms sore and tired from all the note taking you did.

The moment you stepped outside, Seonghwa was there looking exactly how he did earlier. A smile on his face as he stepped near you. “Ready to go home?” He asked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on.

“Don’t you get tired waiting out here?”

He shook his head and before he could reply, you answered for him. “You were trained for this, I get it. Let’s go grab lunch, I’m hungry.” Seonghwa nodded and followed behind you like he always does.

“Seonghwa, you can walk beside me, there’s no one besides us.” You slightly turned around and grabbed his wrist and forced him to walk beside you.

He nibbled on his lower lip as he tried to remain his composure, eyes once in a while went down to his wrist that had your fingers wrapped around it. This is fine. I’m not crossing any lines, he reminded in his head.

Seonghwa was busy checking his schedule, your schedule to be exact when he heard the heavy doors across from him being pushed open. Your classmates swarmed out and he scanned everyone in search of your figure. His brows furrowed when he didn’t see you coming out.

He made his way through the crowd and went inside the hall, where you were seen talking with someone at the front row seats. He let out an exasperated sigh and made his way towards you. His sharp eyes watched how you and this person he doesn’t know talking so casually, unaware that everyone had left the room.

Seonghwa made sure his presence was known as he stood close to your side, the guy you were with immediately noticed him. He tapped your arm and motioned for you to look behind. There stood your bodyguard with a straight face on, glaring right at the stranger.

“Oh you’re here. I have a project to discuss with him so we'll probably head to the library then have dinner if we get to finish things early. You can go back first.” You know so well he’s not going to leave you with this person until late at night. But it was worth the try.

Seonghwa on the other hand felt irritated the moment you mentioned the guy’s name and how you had a plan up till dinner. It was unscheduled and he didn’t like one bit about it.

“I’ll inform your father what you told me. Also, I’m staying with you until you finish.” He said and for the first time ever, he left you first to wait outside. That caught you off guard but you tried not to think about it too much.

Your bodyguard who was seated a table away watched every single action of yours and your project partner. He noticed how you would cover your mouth when you laugh at a joke the male made or how you keep on adjusting your outfit when talking.

You almost never behaved that way around him and suddenly showing this side to someone that’s not him, irked him. He then realised how he hated what he was seeing and felt something he never felt before.

He felt possessive of you. After spending time together for so long and being the only friend and shoulder to lean on, he had developed a new feeling towards you. It was probably not new at all, just hidden deep down in his heart finally bursting out due to this new stranger.

His fingers curled into fists when your partner casually patted your head after you managed to complete a question. He’s being way too touchy and why do I feel like interrupting them and causing a ruckus? Seonghwa quietly shook the thought away and continued on watching the both of you.

The ride back home was awfully quieter than usual and it made you uneasy. You stole glances at Seonghwa who drove in silence and never uttered a single word at you.

When the both of you arrived back home, he usually bothered himself to open the front doors for you but instead shut the door right in your face.

Something was totally not right and you hate to admit but an upset Seonghwa was a hard one to deal with. “He’s probably tired. We have been out since morning.” You tried to assure yourself and went inside and spotted him on the second floor.

You ran up the stairs, catching up with his retreating figure that did not turn once at all to look at you. He clearly heard the door opening and you running up the stairs but he ignored it.

“Is everything okay, Hwa?” You manage to grab his wrist and try to peer at his face when he jerks his hand away harshly from you.

“No, I’m upset. Go to your room, it’s late.” He curtly said and left you in the hallway alone.

Inside the room, Seonghwa threw himself on the bed and covered his face with the back of his hand. He wanted to beat himself so bad for being so harsh to you. I should have said everything was fine like always, not making things worse like this. He grumbled to himself as more thoughts flooded his head.

He never felt this troubled before but when he finally came to sense that he wanted you all to himself, everything jumbled up. Before, it felt like nothing more than protecting his employer’s child but not anymore.

After a while, you were done with your night routine and was already in bed but your mind was still awake. Thinking of Seonghwa and what he said earlier. “No, I’m upset.”

You kicked the covers away and made a bee-line to your bodyguard’s room as quiet as possible. Making sure no one was near the staircase, you ran towards the other side of the hallway towards his bedroom.

You knocked a couple of times and even twisted the knob but it was locked. Praying hard that you won’t wake anyone up, you knocked even harder and finally heard a sound coming from inside.

Seonghwa unlocked the door and thought it was one of the maids and got annoyed. “What is it?” He voiced with a frown until he saw you standing in front of him, staring and mouth slightly agape.

The both of you then heard voices coming from the corner and without thinking he pulled you inside and trapped you behind the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to-” You words were cut off when another set of knocks came and he knew who it was.

“Young man, do you have anything to wash?”

“No, I don’t. Goodnight.” Seonghwa was about to shut the door when the lady stopped with her hand. “You sure, I changed the sheets two weeks ago. Also why are you not letting me in?” She pushed the door harder and it made you yelp and hit him from the impact.

“What was that?” She asked. “It’s just my stomach. I’m not feeling well.” His other hand wrapped around the back of your head making sure you don’t move again. The action made you still as you took in the fact that he was really close to you.

Seonghwa finally closed the door and let out a sigh. He then tipped your chin up to make you look him in the eyes. “Why are you not wearing a shirt?” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth.

“Uh, it’s my room?” He answered back.

“But, you’re living in my house.” You raised a brow at him.

“Should I make it my house too then?” He taunted back.

“What?!”

You couldn’t help but shout in surprise at the words he just said. You thought he was joking but when he stepped back and went to sit at the edge of his bed, messing up his hair. You knew this was more than that.

“I like you...no I love you. I don’t even know myself.” He stopped for a moment. “But what I know is that I hate seeing you getting shy with that project partner of yours.” He expressed which sound more like he was murmuring to himself rather than to you.

You furrowed your brows and can’t help but like the fact that he was bothered by something like that. Seeing him all frustrated with nothing but a pair of sweatpants was sure a sight.

But shortly after, it made you question yourself as well. You walked closer and stood directly in front of him and he looked up at the mention of his name.

Your palms found their way to his bare shoulders, resting there as you closed your eyes and went down to kiss him. Seonghwa was caught off guard by your sudden move and took your face in his hand, ripping it away from him.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He sounded genuinely worried.

“I just wanted to confirm my feelings. I’m sorry for suddenly kissing you like that.” You were about to move away when he pulled you back to your initial spot. He made you sit on his lap, legs wrapped around him.

You were confused by his sudden actions when just a minute ago he had pushed you away, reminding you that it wasn’t right to do what you both did.

“Did you feel anything after stealing a kiss from me?” His tone low as his alluring eyes met yours. You gulped at the sudden change in demeanor.

Not knowing what to say or react, you let him have his way with you. His fingers tapped its way on your neck before holding your jaw in place. He liked how it fits nicely in his hands as he pulled your face closer to his.

“You should answer when I ask.”

You didn’t know what took over you as you slowly thread your fingers in his hair and crushed your lips with his. He let out a moan and deepened the kiss, hands now gripping the side of your frame. You were starting to get out of breath, never would have imagined kissing him like this would be so addicting.

You peck his lips once more before pulling away, eyes half lidded as you look at him. His face flushed and the way he was breathing through his lips wasn’t helping at all.

“That answers everything, don’t you think?” You breathed out, hands resting on his broad shoulders again.

Seonghwa then unwrapped your legs around him, pushing you down on the bed before doing the same. He gazed at your features as a finger swiped the bottom of your lips.

“You better tell that guy to not get too touchy or I can’t guarantee his life.”

His pupils were round and innocent now despite looking like it could suck you in whole earlier. You scoffed at his words and played with his fringe that was covering his eyes. “Forget about him. What are we going to do next?” you asked, eyes roaming his beautiful face.

Seonghwa smirked and that's when you know he interpreted your words differently. “I’m going to do whatever I want and make sure you can’t attend class tomorrow.” You sighed at him and lightly punched his chest.

“I meant about my father, your job as my bodyguard. I don’t think he’s going to take this nicely.” You informed him, already knowing the fate of your relationship after this.

“I’ll take care of that. What you need to worry about is what’s going to happen right now.” Seonghwa's eyes were clearly filled with lust as his hand went under your shirt and watched how you tried to hold back from his cold touch.

You were starting to feel ways you could never imagine and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. It will be a long night and surely there’s no turning back on this.

A sneaking attempt, an unexpected confession and a stolen kiss had led you to this.

Nothing else matters as for now, just you and your life time bodyguard, Park Seonghwa.

320 notes · View notes

throughtheinterstices · 3 years

Text

for the one who does not wear his heart on his sleeves (feat. oikawa tooru's onee-san)

❝ oikawa tooru does not wear his heart on his sleeves. oikawa toura, his older sister, knows this well. ❞

characters. oikawa toura, tooru’s onee-san; oikawa t. x fem!reader

genre. drama, comedy, slight romance

word count. 4.8k words

warnings. themes of teenage pregnancy

a/n. i wanted to delve a bit into tooru's character and thought, "who else would let us get to know him better than his older sister?" reblogs are appreciated. and as always, i’d be happy to hear your thoughts.

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3

及川 Oikawa reaching the river

Oikawa Tooru was not one to wear his heart on his sleeves. This didn’t stop girls from clinging on to them, however.

Oikawa Toura contemplated on this every time her younger brother got himself a girlfriend.

She figured that his handsome looks, good grades, athletic talent, and irresistible charm make up for it. (Not that she would ever admit it to her younger brother. Even then, Tooru wouldn’t be able to get all the credit. The Oikawa genes were impeccably attractive, so they all possessed the same assets anyway.)

The girls started to flock him when he was really young. Tooru was a cute and energetic kid. He was always running around with a volleyball that he loved to toss and a unique boyish charm that made him beguiling.

It was no wonder that his first grade classmate in elementary always lent Tooru her princess stickers-filled pencils whenever he “forgot” to bring his own, that Tooru weighed surprisingly heavier one time in elementary school because he always had extra to eat during meal times (courtesy of his third grade seatmate), that Tooru went home blushing one time during pre-school because a cute girl kissed him on the cheek. Toura, herself, was amused by his early puppy-love kind of escapades.

But as leaves changed color and as the siblings experienced more that life had to offer, Oikawa Toura found herself concerned about her brother. Tooru, as a kid, was a fluffy cinnamon roll that everyone wanted to devour. As a teenager, he was something else. He was growing well into the magnetic Oikawa looks, with the towering height, the playful grins, the captivating russet eyes. Partner it with his fastidious methods of fixing up, he was practically teenage royalty.

But as all teenagers were, it was easy for all the attention to get into his head. So Toura took it upon herself to keep him on his toes and to give him a few slaps back to reality.

“Ouch!” Tooru recoiled from his sister’s hand. “What was that for?”

“Stop acting like a superstar!” Toura hissed, her eyes molding into the famous Oikawa glare that she inherited from her mother. She sneaked a glance toward the flock of girls they passed by a second earlier. “You’re not only embarrassing me, you’re also embarrassing yourself!”

Tooru raised his hands in defense. “I was just waving! Is it so bad to be polite?”

“Being courteous and narcissistic are two different things!”

“Me? Narcissistic?” Tooru put a palm to his heart.

“Yeah! I’ve heard a few things about you lately!” Toura accused.

“Ya!” Tooru fished for his phone. “When did Iwa-chan become so talkative?”

Toura swiped his phone away in a flash. “You think Iwa’s the only one who notices your obnoxiousness? A lot of different people come to me just to put you in your place! Do them a favor and turn it down a bit, huh?”

Tooru huffed in disbelief. “You? Just who would do that? Everyone’s scared of you!”

Murder. That was what Toura was going to do. “What did you just say?”

Toura most often gave her brother tough love. It really couldn’t be avoided with a sibling as exasperating as Tooru. It was what his thick head needed. At first, the elder sister was frustrated whenever her brother would brush her off, would be so defensive, would grumble blatantly to the side, and sometimes would even run away at the very sight of his “nagging” sister.

Later on, these younger brother tendencies would put a knowing smile on Toura’s face. Toura thought that she would be forever pulling Tooru by the ear, yapping at him to “be nice” to his juniors or to “treat that girl well.” Apparently, forever was a bit too much. She realized this once during a phone call with her brother’s best friend.

“Iwa!” Toura called into her phone, as she exited her the room of her son, who was finishing his homework.

“Hai, onee-san!” the person on the other line coughed.

“How are you?” she chirped, entering the kitchen. “I heard you’re one of the main players for the team this year! Congratulations!”

Talking to Tooru’s friends was one of the joys of her life. When they first met her, she might have gone overboard with the fierce act and left them terrified. Through the years, they slowly got over it but she was still her mother’s daughter who inherited her temper. Tooru’s friends became witnesses to her losing it a couple of times so she couldn’t really blame them for being careful around her. Toura used their wariness to have fun once in a while.

“Ah, thank you very much,” Iwaizumi answered, brief and respectful.

Toura grinned, whipping out some strawberries from the fridge. “Iwa! You’re so polite, unlike some people I know!”

Iwaizumi hurried to reply. “Don’t worry, onee-san, Oikawa’s on his way home.”

Such loyal friends, Tooru. “Hmm? I didn’t ask for him.”

“But you were going to… right?” Iwaizumi’s hesitation was too adorable.

“Yes, sorry to bother you all the time, Iwa.” Toura tried to keep her tone sweet. “Let me just ask, is there a particular reason as to why this onee-san has to make excuses for her little brother’s lateness?”

If he was bullying the first years again…

“He’s helping the first years with their serves,” Iwaizumi said. “Sometimes with their spikes too.”

Huh. “Really?”

“Hai.”

“And how’s that been going so far?” Toura asked.

“Hmm… I can’t say really…” Iwaizumi said. “A few days of practice won’t really show much results but somehow the first years don’t seem too lost. Though sometimes they do seem irked by Oikawa’s stupid perso—”

The other line went silent.

Toura laughed. How cute.

“It’s okay, Iwa! I have firsthand experience with that stupid personality of his. Totally understandable.”

She could hear his breath of relief.

“Okaa-san!” Takeru’s voice echoed from the hall.

“I have to go, Iwa. I’ll cover for him but tell him he has to wash the dishes for two weeks.”

Toura hung up, shaking her head at the thought of her (not so) agitating brother.

Though Tooru put up a prickly front, deep down inside, Toura knew her brother always listened to the important things she said. With this, Toura was relieved. At the same time, she was concerned. Rivers looked shallow from those who viewed it from afar. A closer look would let people’s eyes see the depth of its waters. What Toura worried about was that people only saw her brother for the things that were skin deep. Worse, that they only loved him for these things.

Tooru was more than those. If only people looked a little closer and deeper.

冬麗 Toura winter, beautiful

Oikawa Tooru was not one to wear his heart on his sleeves. Oikawa Toura felt she was partly to blame.

She was eighteen, just about to enter college. It was the spring of life. New beginnings. New opportunities. Adversities would come her way. That was inevitable. She expected them to come like light rainfall, showering her days with just enough raindrops to make every color vibrant and with just enough trouble for her to appreciate the good and to grow steadily as she went. She was an Oikawa, adept with the woes of the water. She would conquer it just like she did all the other times, with the cutting russet eyes of her father and the fiery disposition of her mother.

At least, she was supposed to.

Spring was the season of new life. She was prepared for all of the changes that were coming, all except for the birth of the new life growing inside of her. Toura was eighteen when she found out she was pregnant with Takeru. Tooru was nine.

The light drizzle she was anticipating was nothing compared to the storms that came.

The strongest downpour surged one night in the kitchen of the Oikawa household. Lights all around the house were dimmed. Windows were shut. Doors were locked. Tooru was tucked impatiently to bed earlier than usual.

All throughout the night until the wee hours of the morning, the usual sanctuary of home-cooked meals and family banter became a cold court of trial. Eyes were bloodshot: Toura’s from crying, her mother’s from exhaustion, her father’s from anger. Hands were shaking: Toura’s from hopelessness, her mother’s from pity, her father’s from disappointment.

Toura had never seen her parents the way they were that night. Her mother was normally the raging one, with all the scathing beration and the matching fiery gaze. That time, it was her father, her typically sarcastic laid back father, who was blazing with fury.

By the early morning, all backs were slumped. All voices were hoarse.

As Toura crawled her way back into her room, she heard the hurried shutting of a door.

Tooru was awake.

At that time, Toura didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. She just dragged herself to bed and hoped to forget, even just for a while.

As much as her parents tried to act ordinarily, Tooru was an intelligent kid. He heard the raised voices at midnight when they thought he was asleep. He heard his sister’s muffled cries as she crawled her way back into her room. He noticed her carefully hidden swollen eyes in the morning. He saw through everyone’s strained smiles the weeks that followed.

Keeping true to his family name, as the river followed the path the soil has carved for it, he followed the flow that his family had created. He never questioned the changes that happened within their home and their family. Yet, he never remained idle either.

The season was spring. However, it had never been more winter for Oikawa Toura. The sun was still high and shining down on the secluded playground near the Oikawa household; even so, Toura had never been so cold. She was donning her favorite sweater and held tightly toward her father’s coat (for comfort or for warmth, she was not sure) but it was to no avail.

Toura was seated on a park bench, with a child blooming inside her womb and the father sitting beside her.

The “father.”

Among the excellent genes of the Oikawas were some not-so-pleasant ones, such as sarcasm or hot tempers (this comes from the mother’s side though). Stupidity was not one of them. Oikawa Toura could take a hint. Hints, to be more accurate.

After dropping the bomb on her boyfriend, after having a long crying session with him, after listening to all his promises of “we’re going to figure this out,” after seeing him off as he shipped himself to Tokyo and she stayed in Miyagi, after weeks of pruned text messages, and after complete utter silence in the end, Oikawa Toura knew that he did not want to be a “father.”

Toura sighed. “Just get to the point.”

She did not even turn to know that he had whirled around to face her. That was how much she knew him. Loved him.

Hell.

“I—can’t.” The crack in his voice broke her. Or maybe it was the meaning of his words. Or maybe, she had been long broken, way back from the moment he first chose to leave.

Well, this time, I’m the one leaving.

“Okay,” Toura whispered. It was the most difficult thing to do, to pull herself up and walk away from him.

“Wait—”

Toura halted. She almost turned back and buried herself in his arms.

If not for the whirling volleyball, the sound of the collision, and the groan.

She did pivot her head a bit, just enough to see her boyf—ex-boyfriend crumpled on the floor, his hands clutching at some very painful goods.

Before she could do anything, her hand was tugged by a familiar grasp and towed away from the scene.

Right there, Oikawa Tooru, with one arm clutching a volleyball tucked and the other on her sister, was walking briskly, a resolute look on his face.

Toura did not exactly know the right response. She had always been a slave to her emotions. She knew, because she was going to become a mother soon, she had to let this go, but to hell with it, there was still time.

“Hey,” she found herself saying. “Nice kill.”

Tooru swiveled in surprise. Just as quickly, irritation morphed in his features. “I was aiming for his head actually.”

“Well then, actually aim for what you hit next time.”

After a long while, Oikawa Toura found herself grinning.

At eighteen, Oikawa Toura had to face the consequences of her actions. She had to endure their relatives’ disappointment and mocking. She had to put up with the whispers around their town. Sendai’s golden girl was ruined. The girls who used to want to befriend her disappeared. The guys who ogled at her never looked at her again.

Spring, summer, and autumn all felt like winter to Toura. How symbolic. She finally lived up to her name.

Oikawa Toura. River. Winter.

What exactly happened to the river during winter? It went cold. Sometimes, it even froze. That was how she survived it all. Oikawa Toura chose to harden herself to everyone’s frigidity, to life’s cold harsh truth.

Tooru was aware of it all. At nine years old, he learned that if he showed vulnerability, he wouldn’t leave the battlefield intact. Especially in their world. If he showed his heart to the wrong people, he was bound to get hurt.

So at nine, Oikawa Tooru buried his heart deep within himself and only allowed a few people in.

徹 Tooru to go through, committing to one thing to the end

Oikawa Tooru was not one to wear his heart on his sleeves. His love was rare.

When it came to love, Tooru was one who used his head. He only gave his love to the people and the things that he knew would be worth it. This was why he revealed his heart only to a few chosen.

To his family: his nonchalant father, his fierce mother, his headstrong sister, his cute nephew.

To his close friends: his reliable Iwa-chan, his bright Makki, his good-natured Mattsun.

And of course, to volleyball.

However, even with all the preventive measures her younger brother had taken, Oikawa Toura knew that it could not protect him from heartbreak.

“I’m going to bed. Already ate.”

Toura watched as Tooru climbed the stairs with heavy feet, sagged shoulders, and defeated eyes.

She gave an inquiring look to their mother. “He got benched today. In their game with Shiratorizawa.”

“Oh,” Toura replied.

She heard her son’s light footsteps running towards the stairs. “Toowu! Toowu! Let’s pway!”

She caught Takeru before he managed to reach the second floor and shushed him. “Tooru-ojisan isn’t feeling well today, Takeru.”

Toura watched her son pout. She mussed his hair and said, “You can play with him tomorrow. Hopefully, he’ll be better by then.”

Toura was frantically scrolling through different contacts on her phone when Tooru came in and announced, “I’ll take Takeru to his volleyball lessons.”

His older sister stared at him, dumbfounded.

“On Monday, right?” Tooru said, rummaging through the fridge.

Toura was confused. “I thought your girlfriend was going to introduce you to her parents on Monday.”

“Nah,” Tooru answered, his fingers shifting back and forth from the banana milk to strawberry milk.

“What do you mean ‘nah?’ I thought you really liked this girl?” Toura said.

“Apparently, I liked volleyball more and she grew tired,” Tooru replied, finally getting his hands on the banana milk.

Toura scoffed. “Well, I never even liked her in the first place.”

“I know.” Tooru drilled his straw through his drink. “Don’t worry about Takeru, nee-san. I’ll take care of him.”

Tooru moved to leave the room. Toura called him back. “Oi. You okay?”

Her younger brother paused for half a second—half a second too long—before turning back. He waved his hand as if to disregard the entire thing. “Of course. Onee-san, I’m Oikawa Tooru.”

Toura rolled her eyes at her grinning brother. It was when Tooru left that his older sister felt more unsettled.

He was Oikawa Tooru. He tried to show everybody that he just brushed off his worries. He had inherited their father’s devil-may-care façade and his tendency to mask his problems by joking about them. But when he’s alone, Toura knew that Tooru took everything hard.

Toura wished she could spare her brother the pain because she knew how cruel life was. She knew she could not.

Oikawa Tooru was not one to wear his heart on his sleeves. Then you came along.

Out of all the girls Tooru had had, you were different. First of all, you weren’t even his girlfriend. You were just a friend. Someone who lashed out on him for punching a vending machine and later on, found your way into his inner circle.

Safe to say, Oikawa Toura was quite alarmed, skeptical, and just a little bit curious.

“So you mean to say that you really didn’t know who he was?” Toura asked you. The two of you were sitting beside the makeshift court on the backyard of the Oikawa household, watching Tooru and his friends play volleyball with Takeru.

You buried your head into your hands. “He told you?”

“Psh.” Matsukawa appeared in front of you. “Mr. I’m-Better-Than-Everyone-Here? Of course not!”

“I told her!” Hanamaki said, taking a swig of the tea you and Toura bought.

Toura held her palm up for a high five. Hanamaki eagerly returned it.

“Ya! My own friends! How could you?” Tooru barked, hurling a volleyball towards them.

Iwaizumi easily dodged it, choosing carefully among the pastries laid out. “How could we not?”

“Aww, was wittle Toowu’s pwide hurt?” Toura teased.

Tooru made a face and turned to his nephew.

“Look Takeru, this is not something you should copy from your mother!”

Toura retaliated, hugging her son close to her. “Takeru, unlike your oji-san, you should stay humble, okay?”

Takeru, used to her mother and uncle’s banter, wiggled free of his mother’s grasp, ignored the two of them, and dug into the pastries you bought.

Toura tried not to be hurt by her son’s actions and diverted her attention to you instead.

Resting her cheek against her palm, she asked, “How did the two of you actually, well, talk to each other then? I mean, YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHO HE WAS.” She added the emphasis just to irk her brother.

Effective. He was staring daggers at her.

Lifting your face from your hands, you answered, “Well, he was out punching vending machines by the gym—"

Toura wheeled towards Tooru’s direction. “You punched a vending machine?”

“I was having a bad day,” Tooru muttered, suddenly preoccupied with snacks.

Briefly, his gaze shifted to you. You looked back at him with sympathetic understanding.

Hmm…

Mornings were hectic in the Oikawa household. Everyone had somewhere they needed to be. Movement filled the house and a string of “ittekimassu” followed. On this particular Monday, the two siblings were the last to go.

As they were putting on their shoes, Toura was intrigued by the two bento boxes Tooru had packed.

“How hungry are you?” Toura remarked.

“The other one’s for the smart girl of the group,” Tooru said, standing up and fixing his hair in front of the mirror. “She’s too engrossed in her books that sometimes, she forgets to eat.”

Clicking her heels in place, Toura asked, “Just who is she to you, Tooru?”

Tooru’s hands froze. “What kind of question is that?”

Toura gave him a pointed look.

“She’s my best friend!”

“I thought Iwa was your best friend.”

“He is!” Tooru exclaimed. “This is different!”

“I’ll say!” Toura turned her back to him. “Ittekimasu!”

“Ya! Onee-san!”

Toura rushed into the halls of her former alma mater. Her steps quickened as she caught sight of the infirmary.

“How’s my brother?” Toura nearly shoved her face into the school nurse’s. “Will he still be able to play?”

This was Tooru’s second knee injury. It would excruciatingly break his heart if his volleyball dreams ended here.

“I can’t say,” the nurse said, breaking the news softly. “He needs to see a doctor first.”

Toura’s breath hitched. “Where is he?”

“In the other room.” The nurse pointed to the door of the adjoining room.

Toura nodded. She turned the knob slowly and quietly, just in case Tooru was asleep.

He wasn’t. Toura heard his muffled sobs before she saw your figure tightly holding on to her younger brother. His shoulders were shaking. It seemed like you were the only thing keeping him together.

“This is the one thing I’m good at!” Tooru cried. “Hard work! And even in this, I failed!”

“Shhh,” you say. “It’s not a failure. It’s a setback.”

“Yeah, right.” He pulled back from your embrace. “What if… What if this is the end for me? What if all those years of proving I’m worth something, of chasing after Ushiwaka, of outrunning Kageyama… What if it all just ends here?”

Toura remained before the door. She waited to hear what you would say. Personally, she didn’t know how to respond. How does one answer to that?

“Then let it end here,” you said. Toura gasped.

Tooru’s eyes bulged.

“Chasing Ushiwaka, beating Kageyama… Let that all end here. Why did you choose to play volleyball?”

Something dawned in Tooru. “I… love to play volleyball… Always have…”

“That’s right. You love volleyball. It sharpens your senses. It makes you feel alive. I’ve seen it. This is why you play volleyball.” Your voice was as unwavering as you gaze.

You softened. “It’s not going to end here, Tooru. No matter what happens, even if it takes millions of therapy sessions, I know and you know that you’re not going to let it end here.”

Toura carefully closed the door, not wanting to intrude in their intimate discussion. Before she did, she saw the change in her younger brother’s previously defeated expression. It was now hopeful.

She did not know what would happen next. Perhaps, hope was what he needed most. Toura felt most grateful for your presence in that moment.

The crowd screamed as one of Tooru’s serves reached Shiratorizawa’s side of the court unreceived. First set won by Aoba Jousai!

Toura joined them with her own set of cheers. “That’s my baby brother right there!”

Takeru pretended as if he wasn’t related to her. You erupted in laughter beside her.

Toura faced you, flashing you a broad smile.

“I think he heard you!” you shout, pointing to the scowl on Tooru’s face, evident even from the stands.

Toura stuck her tongue out at her brother. It was obvious where he got that from.

To add fuel to the fire, Toura gestured to his jersey and tilted her head towards you, as if to say, “So you gave her your jersey, huh?”

Tooru reddened and avoided his gaze, running uncharacteristically towards his teammates.

Toura smirked. Best friend my ass.

“I told him his hard work would pay off,” she heard you whisper. “He sells himself so short sometimes.”

Toura watched as you mumble things to yourself, touched by your affection towards her brother.

Out of all the girls that Tooru had had, you saw him for who he was, not for who he was trying to let everyone see. You weren’t starry-eyed for him. You didn’t let him off the hook from all of his pettiness and faults. Somehow, you inspired him to rise above his inferiorities and become better. Remarkably, you were able to let him break down all the barriers that he put up.

It was safe to say that out of all the girls that Tooru had had, you were the one his older sister liked best.

Oikawa Tooru was not one to wear his heart on his sleeves. Because he knew that love was pain.

“Tadaima,” Tooru called softly.

It was the night before his flight to Argentina. A few minutes ago, the Oikawa household was a boisterous place, filled with Oikawa relatives and Tooru’s teammates and friends. The clamor earlier was the opposite of the silence that echoed as Tooru slipped in.

“I’m here,” Toura called from the backyard.

“What are you doing here?” Tooru asked, taking a seat beside his onee-san.

Toura puckered her lips. “I was waiting for my favorite baby brother.”

“I’m your only brother,” Tooru pointed out. “And will you please stop it with the ‘baby?’ I’m an adult now! I’m even going to Argentina tomorrow.”

“I know.” Toura sighed. “Can’t you be my baby brother a bit longer? It feels like you’re running further and further away.”

Tooru was torn between repulsion and affection. “Who are you and what have you done to my monster onee-san?”

That earned him a smack.

“Just tell me you’re going to miss me,” Tooru said, rubbing the spot that his onee-san hit.

“Tch.” Toura rolled her eyes and diverted her gaze toward the makeshift court the two of them had built back when they were younger. How time flew. Now, he was off to play in bigger courts.

“So…” Toura started.

“So?” Tooru asked.

“I’m guessing, you’re still friends?”

“Hmm?”

“With the girl you walked home earlier, your best friend, the love of your life.” Toura raised her hands in exaggeration.

Tooru had a solemn look on his face. “I’m eighteen, onee-san. I don’t even know what love is.”

Right then and there, she caught a glimpse of the nine year-old fear that had been plaguing his heart. Toura always thought that people can only inherit things from their parents. Apparently, they can inherit things from their siblings too. Just like hand-me-down clothes worn out through time, Tooru had witnessed his elder sister’s experiences and acquired her pain.

Because of this, she knew he was mistaken. He knew too much about love. That love wasn’t just stolen kisses, first dates, holding hands, and smiles. It was pain too. It was the fear of not being enough, of being left behind.

It was true that love was anguish. But after nine years, Toura was able open her eyes to different aspects of love. She found it in her son’s laughter greeting her after a tiresome day. In her father’s jokes during tense moments. In her mother’s complaints about anything and everything. In her brother’s steadfastness especially when she needed it.

She saw it in the way Tooru looked at you.

“I doubt that,” Toura said.

“I doubt a lot of things,” Tooru replied.

“But never anything with her,” his elder sister said softly, looking at him in her periphery.

Tooru shook his head.

“You love her,” she said.

Tooru whispered, defeated. “I do.”

The next day brought a sense of déjà vu to Toura. She felt like she’s lived the scene before. A boy was leaving, off to chase his dreams. A girl was being left behind, to make do of what she had.

She had to remind herself that this was different. It was her brother, always keeping true to his name. He would go through everything life had to offer and he would commit to the things that he loved until the end. He was kind in his core, loyal to the ones he loved. He was not the scumbag who couldn’t make up his mind nine years ago.

It was you, the wisest and most understanding person Toura has ever met. You thought of everything carefully and thought of everyone deeply. You were not the naïve girl who acted impulsively and just hoped for the best.

“Just try and forget me, smart girl. I’ll come for you when you least expect it,” Toura heard her brother say.

Toura always felt the need to guard her brother from the world, especially after all the brutality that she has experienced. No matter how hard she tried, this was something she could never accomplish.

When it was time for Tooru to enter his gate, Tooru looked back, just once, just at you. You returned his gaze and offered an exaggerated smile. Tooru laughed.

This was the last image of himself that he left in the minds of those he loved before he left. You made that happen. Toura wished that you were there to make him laugh all the time, even when it was difficult for him.

So before the world shifted again, while you were still within Toura’s reach, she made a silent plea, an older sister’s prayer for her little brother—

“Oikawa Tooru was not one to wear his heart on his sleeves. But he had given you his heart. Please, keep it safe.”

—this is somehow related to my other oikawa fic HERE

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3 LINK

#haikyuu #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x fem!reader #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa tooru fic #oikawa fic #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa x y/n #oikawa #aoba jousai

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch - Part 12

the Darkling x Reader

The hour was late as the stars basked in the darkness and cold winter air. The fire roared in its hearth while your still steaming cup of sleep-aiding tea sat untouched on the small table. Your talk with Alina earlier was the cause of your unrest. You didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or be frustrated with her. She is a lovely girl, most pure and kind and quite literally the definition of sunshine, but something about her irked you and you hated it.

Maybe it was her somewhat unhealthy obsession with her friend, the tracker- Malyen Oretsev, or the sheer denial and lack of understanding of her position. Sure, Mal was the only thing that tied her to her old life, a sense of home, but he didn't belong anywhere near the Little Palace and posed a threat to Alina's true potential. She should understand that, no doubt it's been explained to her many times. She was no longer a random girl from the First Army or a Child of Keramzin, she was the Sun-Summoner and had to act the part.

But there was also a nagging feeling in you since your last words with Aleksander, the ones about the stag. From what you could gather, Alina definitely wasn't power-hungry, not yet anyway, and placing an antler anywhere on her would be against her wishes. You knew deep down that whatever he had planned would go far beyond just giving her an amplifier for her sake.

You sighed and moved around on the armchair again, trying to convince yourself those were the reasons you couldn't sleep, that Alina's position in this mess was why your mind wouldn't shut off, but who were you kidding, it was her and him. For starters, she called Aleksander by his name. The second the word left her mouth, your blood ran cold.

'Is he not here?' Alina looked to you from over her mug, eyes scanning the room.

'Who?'

'Aleksander, is he away at Kribirsk again?' Your smile faltered and your grip on your own mug loosened. But Alina waited for an answer.

'Oh umm, I don't know.' You did but the shock caused your mind to blank completely.

You had known Aleksander for years before he even told you his true name, you had to earn it. She spoke of her General with a fondness, at one point even speaking of him as if he were more than just her commanding officer.

'Do you miss the First Army Alina? I know you left friends behind, not just Mr.Oretsev.'

'I suppose I don't feel at home just yet, it's a lot to take in, this whole division of orders thing doesn't help either... But he assures me I am not alone, that I have an equal in the Palace.'

An equal?

The heat of the fire was doing nothing to calm down your rising rage. Apparently Aleksander was doing more talking with Alina than you'd thought, even sacrificing his own true name, one only spoken by you and his mother, for her to utter as if it was just another name. So what if you were in his chambers, making use of his office and sleeping in his bed, he clearly had his eyes on two prizes or maybe just one.

You felt sick now, be it from the heat or the anger, you got up and opened a window. The cold and dark night was a stark contrast to the licks of the flame. It made you feel at peace, but only momentarily. You heard voices outside, slowly growing louder. You rested your head against the wall, begging for one last moment of stillness, but alas the door was yanked open and his boots echoed throughout the room. You cursed yourself for deciding to spend another night in his quarters. You thought he'd be gone longer than just 4 days.

'I do hope you made yourself comfortable' His voice was as smooth as the kvas you had downed after Alina left. You wanted to turn around, but the anger was still there and all hell would break loose if you let your emotions run wild again.

'I did thank you. At least you have a desk'

'I'll get you one first thing in the morning'

'No need, I already requested one' Your voice was void of any emotion. Don't start a fight.

'Are you alright?'

'Just tired, being diplomatic is hard work' It sure was right now.

'Might I suggest actually getting into bed then?' His hand slowly came around your wrist and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom but ironically at the simple touch, your anger grew, when it usually has the opposite effect. You saw out of the corner of your eye that he had a genuine smile on his face, one that tended to make you melt but not now. You shrugged him off and walked in the direction of the door, leaving him utterly confused.

'Y/N what's going on.

'I'm tired, I'm going to bed' You tried so hard to act normal, not in any way pissed.

'Y/N look at me'

'Goodnight Aleksander' You couldn't help it, the mockery of his name just came out. There goes the diplomacy.

You heard him quickly walk towards you and tried to get to the door first to escape the tense atmosphere you created but he got there first, blocking your way.

'What?' You threw your hands up in exasperation not yet looking at him.

'Did something happen whilst I was away?'

'No'

'Then what is it'

'Nothing'

'Don't lie to me Y/N'

'Oh but it's okay for you to lie to me' Your eyes finally bore into his.

'Excuse me?' His expression read baffled; annoyed; pissed.

'Move away from the door Aleksander'

'No! You're going to be mature and have an actual conversation with me for once' He asked for it.

'Alright fine, Let's start with Alina''

'Y/N'

'I had a lovely little tea party with her today. Sweet thing. She loves to talk once you get her going. She told me a lot of fascinating stuff, including your name! How interesting don't you think.' Your voice was so cold it even made you shiver.

'I can explain'

'I'm not finished.' You felt that pull in you, that pull that comes before you put your fire or shadows to use but crammed it down with all your might. 'Her best friend hasn't been replying to any of her letters and I can recount there are many of them. Guess what I found in one of your drawers? They are all very poetic don't you think? I'm all for helping her adjust, but that's not help, that's manipulation Aleksander.'

'She won't let him go, It's dragging her down.' He said through gritted teeth.

'Dragging her down or away?' The double meaning in your words didn't go unnoticed by him.

'Y/N all I want to do is go to bed right now, I've had a long day, please.' His hand reached out for yours but you scoffed and moved away.

'You wanted to have this conversation, General, don't shy away when your actions are questioned.'

'Fine' He unblocked the door and crossed the room, throwing his cloak and kefta on the floor with a heavy thud. 'Is there anything else you wish to accuse me of Y/N dearest?'

'Look at you, so bitter but I haven't heard you deny any of it'

'You may go now if you like.' He picked up a decanter of whiskey and poured himself a generous glass

'Since when are you this childish Aleksander. Have I missed something in my 100-year absence?' You mocked.

'You left me with all of this' He gestured to the palace. '-That's what happened.'

'Don't turn this around on me, and I told you that wasn't a choice.'

'The Y/N I knew would have come back and not hid like a coward'

You stilled and waited for any sign of apology, but it never came. He meant it even though he knew how much such a simple statement would hurt you. You turned slowly and walked to the door.

'While I'm gone, at least have the common decency to change the sheets before you bring Alina in here' you shut it loudly behind you and heard the breaking of the glass, no doubt thrown at the door as you were leaving.

What a day.

Taglist

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

Ok so idk if people can see this but I posted this like a week ago and apparently nobody seen it so here it is!!!!

Part 13

Here's my masterlist!!

#shadow and bone #grisha #imagine #the darkling #the darkling x reader #alexander #alexander morozova #ben barnes #fanfic #alina starkov #Alexander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #keftas

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dokidokey · 4 years

Text

who would have thought that passing a 20-page paper 5 days late would lead you to dabi?

word count: 3,765

tags & warnings: bad boy x straight a student au, college au, fluff, a pinch of endeavor slander, brief mention of throwing up, brief mention of abuse (nothing explicit, the word just gets mentioned once!)

notes: hi zeze (@reddriot), i’m your secret santa! sorry this is so late, we’re on our way home at this ungodly hour and i finally have some stable connection now lmao. i’m so so sorry but also, happy holidays! i hope you enjoy what my pretty much dry and blank mind managed to cook up lol i’m so thankful and i met you and got to know you. <3 thank u for everything. and the title lol omg i’m so bad at titles but i kind realized it rhymes with ornaments, so i left it at that.

The day you met Todoroki Touya was not a good day. You would even consider it a bad week, actually. Apparently, you were a week late on a 20-page paper for History and you didn’t even know. It irked you because you have no other excuse except that you didn’t know. There was a totally different due date in your head, one that wasn’t five days ago. So when your teacher shook her head disapprovingly while tucking your 20-page paper against the smooth surface of her desk, you had no other choice but to leave the room.

You wouldn’t want a teacher to see you cry over a late submission. You certainly wouldn’t want other students roaming the hallway to see you cry either, so you had to fight off the warmth pooling at the corners of your eyes. The last corner leading to the campus library was where Todoroki Touya presented himself.

The impact of your bodies bumping against each other came first, then the stinging pinch of something hot against your skin next. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you pulled your arm away, eyes widening at the sight of a small, circular burn mark on your forearm.

“You burned － Why are you smoking here?” The accusing tone in your voice immediately disappeared and replaced by panic as you watched a quite familiar face bring a cigarette to his lips, perfectly poised between his long fingers. “You’re not allowed to smoke on campus grounds!”

A puff of smoke swirled through the air as he huffed, the corner of his lips twitching as he eyed you up and down. The intense, blue eyes taking over your body sent shivers down your spine, arms protectively crossing over your front to try and shield yourself from his gaze.

“Not if I don’t get caught,” he smirked, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. The man was familiar; face and most of his skin that’s exposed under the leather jacket were covered in scars, a dark contrast against his fair complexion. You’re sure you will never forget him if you knew him, but the familiarity of his face doesn’t ring any names in your head.

He puffed out the smoke in a harsh breath, the delicate sound seeming so loud in the quiet and isolated hallway. For a moment you forgot about your late History paper and the chances of you getting anything lower than an A.

Both of your palms met the fabric of your denim-clad thigh in a light slap, arms sagging and voice raising. “If you and I get caught－!”

“Then leave.”

The deadpan and harsh delivery of his words left you open-mouthed, the disapproving look of your teacher once again flashing in your mind. The corners of your eyes warmed again, stinging more than the way it did earlier.

You’re croaking out an unwanted explanation before you realized it. “I － I might get detention and－,” you sniffled, trying to prevent the tears from flowing because you know how embarrassing that would be, so much so to this mysterious person who you found familiar but not really. “And my parents－.”

A scoff cuts you off. You watched as he killed the ember of the cigarette using his bare fingers, pinching the lit end between his thumb and forefinger before tucking it in one of his front pockets. If it weren’t for the strong stench of the cigarette, no one would suspect that he was smoking here, in front of you, inside campus grounds.

“Of course. Precious little [Name] can’t have bad grades and a bad record.”

He said it as if it was so bad. You wouldn’t normally find offense on jabs like those, but today wasn’t just your day. Your retort died down quickly in your throat though when you realized he said your name. He knew you.

With furrowed brows and quivering lips, you asked, “how do you know me?”

The dark-haired man leaned on the concrete wall, shoving a hand down the pocket of his pants. “Who wouldn’t know the teachers’ favorite student? Straight A, little miss [Name].”

It was your turn to scoff. “Favorite,” you mocked, eyes rolling, “I didn’t know being the favorite meant not considering the fact that I didn’t know the deadline was 5 days ago without anyone else informing me.”

A smirk blossomed on his stupidly handsome face. “For once you didn’t get away with something, huh?”

“Didn’t get away? I didn’t know! I had no idea! It’s not my fault.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s true.”

“If you say so,” he chuckled, pushing himself off the wall and taking two steps back, eyes still on you. He winked, then turned around. The silence in the hallway felt deafening as you stood there, but the quick footsteps of his figure walking back towards you eats up the quiet. “Or on second thought,” he says, tapping a foot on the floor, “I can excuse you to the teacher about your late paper.”

It seemed like the tears of frustration pooling at the sides of your eyes retreated back to your tear glands, ears more than ready to hear out whatever his proposition was.

“If you act as my fake girlfriend for a Christmas dinner with my family, I’ll tell the teacher that I tricked you about the deadline.”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “And that’s going to work?”

“Have you seen me, doll? I’m that boy your teacher refers to as a bad influence.”

“You should not be hanging out with people like him, [Name.]”

Mrs. Nakamura’s disappointed tone does nothing to stop the smile spreading on your face, though you tried to suppress it to not come off as suspicious. You’re nodding your head like you’re agreeing with her, knowing that that will not happen any time soon because you have a Christmas dinner with your boyfriend’s family in less than three weeks.

“Go on then,” your teacher waved her hand, “you aren’t marked as late but remember what I told you. If you keep that boy around you, trouble’s sure to follow.”

The hallway didn’t feel as dark and lonesome as it did earlier. It’s surely not because of the other person walking along with you. You’d like to think that, but a part of you knew you might just be lying. And it was stupid, really. Were you really harboring a crush over him? You. . . don’t even know his name.

“What’s your name?”

A choked laugh was the reply you got. “What? You don’t know me?”

“You’re familiar. I just can’t put a name on you,” you shrugged.

“Touya. Todoroki Touya,” he answered, grimacing. “But call me Dabi. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Are you saying we’re friends?” You grinned, looking up at him. He was tall, okay. So much more taller than you. You barely reached his shoulders.

“Technically, you’re my girlfriend, so no. We are not friends.”

You decided technicalities weren’t so bad when Dabi almost never left your side. The sudden (and quite cliché yet comic) pair you two made didn’t go unnoticed by the teachers. Mrs. Nakamura reminded you every single day about Dabi and his troubles. You aren’t aware what kind of troubles Dabi is associated in yet, but you’d like to think you’ll get there.

When you agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend, you didn’t think it would be this kind of long-term thing. You thought that maybe he’ll leave you alone after that day and just hit you up again on the day of the dinner, but you were so wrong.

You’ve never liked being wrong as much as you did about him.

“Stop fussing, my mom’s going to love you.”

He’s said that for the fourth time now. You’re making him more antsy than you are with your bouncing leg and deep sighs every ten seconds.

“And your dad?” You glare at him, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans and bouncing your leg again. He rolls his eyes as an answer.

In the short, three weeks you’ve gotten to know Dabi, you learned a lot about him. One, he hates his father passionately. Two, the teachers don’t really like him (but that sounds so mean when worded like that so you like to think he just isn’t the favorite student.) Three, he’s allergic to fish. Four, he pays attention to every single thing you say. Five, he’s actually the eldest out of the four Todoroki children and lastly, (this is more about you than him) maybe you let your little crush fester more than you planned.

You’ve had to berate yourself multiple times that he is not your boyfriend. You and Dabi are not in a real relationship. This is all a product of your grades being saved and an arrangement to fill up an empty seat at his family’s dinner for Christmas.

“What if your sister doesn’t like me,” you say meekly, “or your brother. And your other brother.”

Dabi shifts on the bench you both are sitting on to face you properly, placing a warm hand over your sweaty ones. “Stop it. They’re going to love you.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes but really, you’re just having a hard time making your brain function properly to process a reply when his hands are there, on top of yours, warm and soothing. It makes your heart do a little happy dance inside your chest that you know it should not be doing, but you can’t help it.

You’re way too deep into this hell, and you don’t know how you’ll take it when he cuts you off after you both benefit from this arrangement you have.

When Dabi pulls you up to stand up before he walks you home, you try to remember how his hands felt against yours.

“You look nice.”

Nice. You had to rummage through your closet for this halter dress, the most decent thing you can find that can fit for a Christmas dinner. It’s 6 PM on the 24th of December and even though this isn’t how you expected to spend the night before Christmas, here you are anyway.

“You look nice too,” you compliment, taking in how Dabi is wearing an actual pair of decent slacks and a button up. A nervous laugh bubbles out of your throat. “You said it was a simple dinner date so I was kind of expecting you to just show up in one of your old, ragged jeans, you know?!”

He quirks his head to the left, the sides of his lips turned up. Dabi offers you his hand as you descend the few steps from your apartment door. “It was,” he says, “but my mom made me wear this when I said I’ll bring a girl over.”

“Haven’t you brought a girl over before?”

A mischievous smile spreads over Dabi’s face, a thumb pressing a gentle pressure on the back of your hand. “No. You’re special because you’re the first one.”

Great. It’s not like you’re not nervous enough about meeting the Todorokis. He just has to tell you you’re the first girl his family will meet. What makes it worse is that you aren’t really Dabi’s girlfriend. It seems a little selfish on both of your parts to let the rest of his family get to know you and then you’ll never see them again because, well, this arrangement can’t last forever, can it?

“And you have a car?” You gasp, eye zeroing in on the sleek, black vehicle parked across the street where you both are heading. “You have a car?”

He chuckles, shaking his head side to side. “This is my dad’s, actually.” He says it again with an eye roll, opening up the passenger door for you. “He only made me use it to impress you.”

“Like I’m not impressed enough?” You huff out a laugh, palms gliding over the dashboard.

“Impressed by what?”

You, you’d like to answer, but for the sake of your sad excuse of a relationship, you keep your mouth shut.

“Things.”

The ride to their place was filled with back and forth banter from you and Dabi. He’s tried to calm you down when a new wave of nervousness surged within you but as you stand in front of their door with hands sweating an entire Pacific ocean, it’s obvious his attempt didn’t work.

“Calm down,” Dabi says, forehead scrunched as he watches you fiddle with the skirt of your dress. You’ve been standing there for about two minutes now and if your goal is to make your nervousness rub off on him, then you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Is my hair okay?” You fuss over some more, smoothing out the unruly strands that weren’t even there. “Is my face－?”

Dabi grabs your hands in his, calloused fingers wrapping around yours. The words die in your throat as you look up at him with wide eyes, mind blanking out at the warmth on your palm.

“You look beautiful, okay? If you touch your hair or smooth your skirt one more ti－.”

“I knew I heard you guys!”

An enthusiastic voice of a girl almost the same height as you rings through your ears and you look over to see his sister, Fuyumi, white and red hair parted in the middle and over her shoulders. You’ve seen her in some pictures in Dabi’s phone because you’re in that stage where you can just casually unlock and go through Dabi’s phone. (You haven’t seen anything unusual yet, just some candid pictures of you that you have no idea how he took. Bless your poor heart after you discovered that album dedicated just for you.)

Fuyumi places her hands on her hips, smiling brightly at you. “I thought Touya was just lying about you to escape the marriage arranged for him but turns out he isn’t.” She opens the door wider for you and Dabi. “Come in. Mom’s been waiting for you.”

The Todoroki household is neat. Minimalist. You aren’t sure if it’s spacious or it’s an illusion due to the lack of decorations inside. Fuyumi immediately hugs you after you and Dabi are completely inside, and she leads you away to meet Natsuo and Shouto. The sight of Natsuo startles you at first. He looks exactly like how you envisioned Dabi to be if he didn’t have scars. And seriously, what’s up with this family having scars? You noticed a dark crimson circling Shouto’s right eye.

Mrs. Todoroki is the most welcoming of them all, if not as much as Fuyumi. Her hand immediately went to your hair, patting softly and smiling delicately at you.

“I never imagined the day would come when Touya finally brings home a girl,” she whispers. The sight of her eyes getting glassy is enough to make your own gloss over, though it’s for an entirely different reason. How cruel can you and Dabi be to pretend and lie like this in front of his mom?

“Oh, please don’t cry! Did I make you cry?” She laughs tearfully, squeezing your shoulder. You choke out a laugh at her reaction, shaking your head no.

“I leave her alone for five minutes and you already made her cry?” Comes Dabi’s voice at the entryway of the kitchen, his tall frame blocking the path. He walks over to where you and Rei are standing, placing a warm hand on the small of your back. “What did mom say to make you cry?”

Rei sniffles and you dab a finger under your eyes, trying to keep your tears at bay. “Nothing,” you reply, unconsciously leaning back on his chest as you keep your emotions in check. In front of you, Rei has a fond look in her eyes as she watches Dabi tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and your wobbly smile directed at her son.

Your little moment is ruined when the front door shuts close with a loud rattle. Dabi tenses behind and you crane your neck enough to see across the living room a tall and broad man with bright red hair.

“That’s your father,” Mrs. Todoroki sighs.

The food is good but the dinner is awkward. Todoroki Enji made sure that either you nor Dabi will be able to sit through tonight peacefully.

“I’m surprised you managed to stick around my son this long,” Enji rumbles, looking at you briefly before going back to his meal. Four months. That’s what you and Dabi came up with for your pretend relationship. You’ve been dating for four months and you both knew each other after getting paired up for a History project. It’s not much of a lie since you did meet because of History.

“I’m surprised Dabi managed to stick around me this long,” you reply nervously, trying to make light of the situation. It seems you only made it worse when Enji’s sharp eyes bote onto yours.

“Dabi?” He inquires, head tilting to the side. The rest of the Todorokis are quiet except him. “You call him that?”

You nod, stomach churning. Any time now and you might just throw up. “You call him by that name, huh?” He chuckles hollowly, shaking his head. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you here, much less as Touya’s infamous girlfriend. If I didn’t know better, he just hired you as a fake girlfriend to run away from tradition.”

Tradition. Right. Dabi has mentioned to you once that his parents were arranged. He’s told you how he knows his father doesn’t really love his mom. You know about the abuse and the way he treats his family.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong because what Dabi－,” you pause, turning briefly to look at him, “Touya. What Touya and I have is pretty much real.”

Enji scoffs, a large, heavy palm slapping on the smooth surface of their mahogany table. “Tell me that again when you’re still here a year from now.”

“Sure,” you smile, cheeks aching with how forced it is. It baffles you how Dabi’s father has all the authority in this household －how no one dares to object or talk back.

Todoroki Enji decides to surprise when deep chuckles start escaping his lips. “You,” he points a finger at you, “I like you. You’re brave. Not a single person in this household can face me like that. You’re too good for that boy,” he nods over Dabi’s direction. From your peripheral, you can see just how tight Dabi’s hands are clenched, and you reach over to place one over his.

“Actually, he’s too good for me,” you quip back. You have no idea where this sudden surge of confidence is coming from, but that doesn’t matter. You need to say what you have to say. You wouldn’t be seeing this family ever again after this anyways. “Touya is actually a good man. He’s more than what meets the eye. Maybe you’ll know that if you paid enough attention to him － and all your children, honestly.”

There’s no taking back what you just spewed out. Too stunned, you aren’t aware of the smug smirk and raised eyebrows Dabi is sporting. You don’t see the way Natsuo is trying to fight off his smile. Mrs. Todoroki and Fuyumi have a hand in their faces and Shouto, for the first time since you arrived, looks at you wholly and quite in awe. With your blood rushing in your ears and heart beating erratically, you open your mouth to excuse yourself, but Dabi beats you to it.

“Now if you would just excuse us.” And he’s tugging on your hand. You whisper out a quiet “I’m sorry,” when you pass by Rei, and you’re out of the front door.

“So,” you grin, hugging the mug of hot chocolate to your chest with your feet tucked beneath you. “On a scale of one to ten, how good was I at ruining your family’s dinner?”

After that whole dinner fiasco, you both just decided to go home to your apartment. Dabi is currently sprawled over the other end of your couch, his feet perched on the coffee table (you told him three times already to put it down) and three of his shirt buttons are undone. He’s got his own cup of hot chocolate on his hand, the other playing with the frills of your throw pillow.

“An eleven,” he grins back at you. He leans over and places his mug on the table. “That took guts.”

You nod. “It did. It just didn’t sit right with me how he talked about you like that, like － I remember you telling me how he used to be all over you as a child, but after Shouto was born, he neglected all of you. He isn’t － That’s not － What kind of father does that?” You sigh, groaning when you remember Rei and the rest of his siblings had to witness that.

“That is so embarrassing. I’m pretty sure your mom hates me now.”

“Trust me,” Dabi chuckles, sitting upright and moving closer to you, “she does not. You should have seen Natsu. He was about to lose it.”

“Still,” you press, throwing him a dirty look. “Who talks like that to their boyfriend’s dad on the first meeting?”

Dabi stares at you, turquoise eyes brighter than ever. “So I’m your boyfriend now?”

You’re pretty sure your heart just skipped a beat at that. “I mean, t-technically. Right? That was － That was what we － That was what we were pretending to be.”

Reality dawns on you again. This is all pretend. No matter how warm Rei and his sibling welcomed you, no matter how much Rei adored you, you’ll never see them again. This is a one time thing － something beneficial for the two of you. And as much as it breaks your heart that you got attached to Dabi that fast, you try to hide your sadness by saying, “at least I won’t see them again, so technically, talking back to your dad is fine.”

“Do you want to though?”

“I － What?”

Dabi leans closer. “Do you want to stop pretending?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. “Is this a trick question?”

He goes closer. The tips of his hair are grazing your forehead. Even this close, Dabi seems to be looming over you. “I wouldn’t mind making it real.”

“I really don’t want to see your father again,” you whisper. Dabi barely closes the gap between the two of you, nose touching yours.

“We can arrange that.”

more notes: tbh this kind of strayed, uh, kinda far from the bad boy x straight a student au but that’s just because most of what i plan ends up straying kind of far from the original idea. but never mind that, i’m happy with how this turned out. EXCUSE ME THAT LAST LINE? WITH THE ARRANGE THING? HELLO? AM I GIVING MYSELF TOO MUCH CREDITS? I MIGHT BE, BUT I DON’T CARE. also ze (´ ▽｀) if you ever get tagged by me on another dabi fic, it’s just me making up for this late post i am sorry.

#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi scenarios #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha angst #bnha fluff #omfg my first dabi fic bye

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dramaqueeenamby · 3 years

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𝙎𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝗈𝖿 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 | seven

Parings: CEO!Chris Hemsworth x Stripper!OC // Words: 7.8K // Type: Series // Taglist: Yes/No (Inbox me to be tagged or removed) Warnings: Sexual harassment, racial themes, discussions pertaining to child death, miscarriage, alcohol/drug use, and suicide attempts. Angst.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the inexcusable delay in updates. This chapter is hella long and perhaps should have been split into two, but I promised ya'll some answers in the last chapter, so here they are!

“What is that haircut?”

“Why are you zooming in?”

Kaya said nothing, continuing to pinch her fingers to gain a closer look, her smile widening by the second. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. “

Chris rolled his eyes. “All children go through phases.”

“This is beyond a phase, my friend. Don’t even get me started on the outfit.” As she erupted in yet another fit of giggles, he took advantage of the opportunity to snatch the iPad away from her.

“Go to sleep.”

Quieting herself down, she wiped at her eyes. “No. Come on. I’m enjoying this, and like you said, you were a dumb kid. How were you supposed to know these photos would haunt you till’ the end of time?”

“Only if they get out.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, sir.”

Chris closed the app and looked over at her. “What about you?”

Kaya’s brow lifted. “What about me?”

“What about your phases?”

She snorted. “Absolutely not.” He continued to stare her down, prompting her to cave, a surprising move even for her. Kaya’s tenacity was typically much stronger than that. “Fine.”

She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, opening Google Photos and scrolling mindlessly. She knew that any horrifically embarrassing snapshots would be from as far back as her library went. The older the photo, the higher the likelihood she would regret ever caving.

It took roughly two minutes for her to locate a set, her eyes shutting and a small moan leaving her partially closed mouth.

He smirked. “Found it?”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Without a doubt.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “At least you’re honest.” Blowing out a breath, she issued a formal forewarning. “In my defense, I was young and dumb.”

“How is that diff—fine, I will reserve my judgment.”

“Liar.” When he said nothing else, she took another deep breath and gradually pulled her phone away from her breast, twisting her wrist so that he could see the screen. “I give you, thebaddestputa69.”

She watched the corner of his lips lift upward as he fought off a smile in favor of a smirk. “Hotmail or aol?” Her surprise at his knowledge of the fallen email servers must have shown because he commented, “I’m old, not ancient.”

She matched his smirk and leaned over to whisper. “Hotmail. Definitely hotmail.”

“AIM username?”

“Come on, the same as my email. I wasn’t creative enough to have multiple aliases.”

He chuckled, grabbing her phone to examine the photo. “I certainly do not miss the peace sign era.”

“I’m pretty sure I used that same pose in all of my photos back then.”

He gestured to the plastered graphic that read ‘jealousy is a disease, get well soon’. “With the same masterful level of editing, I’m sure.”

“But of course, blingee and picnik were a staple.”

A comfortable silence befell them as he returned her phone, and she quickly swiped up to close the app. Kaya was grateful that he didn’t swipe right or left, something she was expecting him to do, if she was being completely honest with herself.

Kaya yawned and naturally laid her head on his shoulder as she reached over to grab the book she was reading when they somehow got on the topic of rebellious and wild phases of days of past.

“Are we th—”

“Finish that sentence, and I will personally throw you out of this damn plane myself.”

Kaya looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed, and mouth pronounced. “It’s a legitimate question.”

“No, it was a legitimate question. However, it stopped being one when you asked me the fifth time.”

“I’m just trying to keep the conversation going. Damn.”

“No, you’re just trying to pester me.”

“Look, it’s obvious you don’t want to hear me talk anymore, so I’m just going to shut my mouth for the remainder of the flight.” He snorted. “What?”

“We both know that’s not possible.” He finally broke his gaze from his phone as he looked over with that knowing smirk that she despised. “You always have to have the last word.”

“That is not true.”

“Kaya, you’re like a child.”

“Keep it up, and you’ll be the one who’s personally tossed from this jet.”

“See what I mean.”

Groaning, she threw her hands up and shook the book in her right hand. “This is the second book in this series.”

“And?”

“And I started the series when we were still on the taxi.”

He shrugged. “Read slower.”

“Chris!”

He laughed, reaching to place his hand on her thigh as she sighed while banging her head back against the headrest. “Relax.”

“Don’t you think if I could, I would?”

“You were doing great five minutes ago.”

“That was in the past.”

“Next time, we’re taking separate jets.”

She didn’t know why but hearing him refer to future happenings both excited and saddened her, for more reasons than one. She cleared her throat. “This is a work trip, right?” He looked down at her as she placed the book down on the ground and held onto his bicep. “You know, something for your company.”

He studied her for a moment and looked up, closing his eyes as he laid his head back against the headrest. “I have the cover of this month’s GQ Italia.”

“Fancy,” she remarked, still unsatisfied with his answer-non answer. “So, I was right. This is a work thing.”

Chris thought about what she said, what she asked, as well as his response before he replied. “They offered to contract a photographer in LA.”

Brows scrunched, she had to ask, now more confused than she was just a few minutes ago. “So why go to them?”

His silence only irked her, the seconds dragging into minutes, which felt like hours. Frustrated and impatient, she called his name again. “Chris-”

“Jesus,” was all she heard before his lips were on hers, palm of his hand pressed against her cheek. Everything else after that was a sensual blur. His other hand moved to her hip, pulling her onto his lap, never once breaking their kiss. She placed her hands on his shoulders, giving a light squeeze, inching her body closer to his, close enough to feel the heat that always emanated over him.

And then, it was over.

Eyes fluttering and breath staggering, she nearly whined when he ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip.

“This isn’t work for me.”

----

“This is our room?”

Chris looked up and chuckled, watching Kaya spin around the middle, eyes soaking in their suite. He placed her bag near the closet while crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“It is.”

Kaya nodded and grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt, tugging it over her head. She extended her arm out and turned around, lifting a brow. “And we have maid service, correct?”

He eyed her. “Of course.”

Kaya smirked and let the garment fall to the floor.

Chris chuckled. “You wanna explain that?”

“What?” She played innocent, fingers toying with the waistband of her joggers as she began to shimmy out of them. “Staying in a fancy hotel where I don’t have t0 clean up after myself?” She walked toward him, moving to grab her suitcase so that she could find her next outfit. “Granted, we have the maid service at home, but—” Both Christopher and Kaya paused at her statement, equally surprised by how easily it flowed, but more so with the statement itself.

Defense immediately kicked in and Kaya cleared her throat. “I mean, ya know, your place.” She refused to make eye contact that exceeded ten seconds, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and dragging it in the direction of what looked like the bathroom.

“Dibs.”

Her feet weren’t moving fast enough for her liking. In fact, they were slow enough that Chris was somehow able to cross the room and grab her by her arm. She looked up, managing to remain calm while inwardly panicking.

God, please don’t let him ask anything.

“Don’t take too long.”

She swallowed. “Why?”

Her grip on the handle tightened when he moved his hand to her face, the back of it brushing against her cheek. Had he been paying close enough attention, he would have noticed the way she shivered at his touch.

“You want dinner, don’t you?”

-----

“This isn’t exactly what I meant.”

Kaya looked up from her pizza, pausing mid chew. “What? Pizza in Italy? This is goals.”

He intended to take her to a fine restaurant, one where only the elite could afford to dine. Instead, she requested pizza delivered to their room. Kaya never ceased to surprise him. “And why are you eating pizza with a fork?”

She shrugged, adjusting the thin strap of her shirt. “Because pizza is messy, and my life's already messy enough. I avoid when I can.”

Chris didn’t say anything, simply watching her eat. She caught his gaze and looked away. If she could, she’d go back in time and stop herself from ever saying what she did. It’d ruined everything. He’d been acting different around her since, and she hated that. She also hated that she hated it.

Since when did she give a flying fuck about what people thought of her? Let alone him.

It was out of character for her, and she didn’t like it.

She didn’t like it at all.

Similarly, Chris also found it difficult to focus on anything other than the encounter from earlier, but not for the reasons Kaya thought.

Not even close.

“So, what’s the agenda for this trip?”

He chuckled and brought the champagne to his lips. “And ruin the surprise?”

Her eyes narrowed as she replaced the fork with her fingers so that she could eat the crust piece by piece. “What surprise?”

“What kind of question is that? Who gives away a surprise?”

“Are you capable of ever just answering my questions with a straight answer?”

He pretended to think. “I could.”

“But?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You and fun? Never realized they were synonymous.”

“I’d like to think we have fun.”

“We have sex. Really, really, great sex.”

“You don’t consider that fun?”

“Fun isn’t a strong enough word to describe it.” He lifted a brow, and she scoffed, tossing a red pepper packet in his direction. “Stop it. I am trying to have a mature conversation here.”

“Not quite sure how possible that is when both parties are inebriated.”

“Bullshit. You know damn well neither one of us is drunk. You haven’t seen me drunk. Hell, I haven’t seen me drunk in a while.”

The way her tone changed toward the end of her sentence garnered his interest. “Why not?”

She looked at him, her smile faltering as she nervously cleared her throat. “I—uh—I get really bad migraines, and Excedrin is the only thing that works for me.” Telling him the truth, well, a fraction of the truth, felt strange yet relieving, probably because she’d spent so much of her life hiding and lying that the truth was unfamiliar territory. “Needless to say, meds and alcohol? Never really a good combo.”

“You’re drinking now.”

“I haven’t taken any medicine yet.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.”

She smiled sadly. “I will.” A beat. “It’s all I have.” Kaya snatched another piece of her crust and swallowed fully before explaining. “That’s why my sleep schedule, if you can even call it that, is so fucked up.”

He thought about it. “Excedrin has caffeine.”

“An insane amount.”

“It helps your migraines—”

“And keeps me up in return.” When he grew quiet, she offered. “Trust me. The insomnia is much better than the pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

She grimaced, eyes darting in either direction. “Why?”

He sighed and ran his hands all over his face. “That’s why you get so upset when I wake you up.”

“I wouldn’t say upset.”

“You threatened to slit my throat in my sleep.”

“Okay, maybe I was a little upset,” she confessed, and they shared a laugh before his tone grew serious again.

“I’ll be mindful of that.” Head tilted to the side, a sign she was still confused, he continued. “So that you can sleep.”

She smiled teasingly, abandoning the last bit of her food, and pushing her plate to the side. “Is that consideration I hear?”

“It is.”

The way he was looking at her, the lack of typical sarcasm in his tone, it was both welcoming and conflicting. Crawling across the floor, she moved his plate to the side and climbed into his lap.

Hands on his shoulders, she lowered her voice and whispered into his ear. “Well, I’m up right now.”

He made a sound and brought his hands to her hips. “You are.” Her eyes shut when his lips moved to her shoulder. “You should get some sleep.”

Immediately, she coiled back and glared. “Are you serious right now?” He laughed, which only upset her further as he stood up, her legs locking around his waist. “It’s been at least 8 hours.”

“You keeping a timer or something?”

“Look.” She waited for him to place her on the bed before she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tugging so that he laid back on the mattress. She quickly climbed on top of him. “If there’s one thing I know about us, we are ideal intimate partners. Our sexual chemistry is astronomical.”

His eyes drank her in. “Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

His voice lowered. “Is that all you think we have?”

At that moment, Kaya realized a couple of things. This was wrong. She was suddenly very much uncomfortable. And this was a mistake. This was why she didn’t tell the truth. It meant putting yourself at risk for being vulnerable.

She was never good with that.

Clearing her throat, she climbed off him and flashed a crafty smile. “I’m gonna go shower.” She couldn’t handle seeing his face, so she turned around, purposely pretending she had to look around the room to search for her luggage.

“You should know I hate sleeping with blankets.” Kaya needed to redirect the conversation to another topic. This was becoming all too much for her.

He sat up and rolled his shoulders. “So, strip the bed? Got it.”

“Absolutely not. I could freeze.”

“You just said—”

Kaya stood by the door that led to the living room area and smiled sadly. “I’m a hot ass mess, Chris.” A beat. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

-------

We need to talk when you get a chance. Please?

No matter how many times she looked at the phone, a new incoming gray message never appeared. She waited and waited, even scrolling up only for it to bounce back with no change.

She missed Nia. She missed their banter. She missed making tik toks with her. And she especially missed the advice giving, of which she could desperately use right about now.

Something was happening between them. With her and Chris. Of which she didn’t know, nor did she understand. It drove her mad because it was a new experience, one where she didn’t feel as though she always had to walk on eggshells.

Being with Chris….

“God.” She ran her hand over her face. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t with Chris. Not like that, anyway. This was a business transaction. They were both using each other for selfish purposes.

Maybe it was the sex. Nia always warned her that behind every sexual encounter, there was at least some trace of feelings.

Kaya always thought that was bullshit.

Now….now she wasn’t so sure.

“You alright?”

She looked up from her chair and saw Chris walk in. She chewed the inside of her cheek as he sat down in the chair opposite of her. Kaya took in his wardrobe, so casual and laid back. She’d never seen him in denim before, but he looked good.

She didn’t even know the photographer, but she was a fan. A billionaire in Levi’s? Iconic.

“How does it feel to dress like us common folk?”

“Poor.” He winked as she glared. “We should be done soon.”

“Don’t rush on my part. The snacks here are delicious, and who knows, I could play dress up.” She wiggled her brows and straightened when there was a knock on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the photographer spoke up and offered Kaya a friendly smile. “You’re Kaya, yes? I’m Elena.”

Kaya was surprised by the fact that this woman was both speaking to her and actually knew who she was, so her response was delayed. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.” She offered her hand and noticed the woman was staring at her. Welp. It was nice while it lasted. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized but continued to stare. “It’s just...has anyone ever told you that you have amazing bone structure?”

Kaya sputtered. “Not unless they wanted something from me.”

Elena smiled. “Well, I suppose this is no different.”

“I don’t understand,” Kaya asked, looking over at Chris. He was surprisingly quiet.

“How about we get some shots of the both of you?”

She immediately protested. “Oh no. I—I’m just here for moral support.”

“You did say you wanted to play dress up,” he reminded. She glared. Of course he would choose to speak up now.

She turned her narrowed eyes on him and harshly whispered. “Not while being photographed.”

He placed his hand over hers. “Relax.”

Kaya remembered that they weren’t alone and therefore, had to keep up the act. Even if it was starting to feel less and less like acting.

“I’m used to people watching, not photographing.” He lifted a brow. Laughing, she slapped his chest and took a deep breath. She looked over at Elena. “Will I at least get to see them before you pick which ones to use? If any.”

“Of course.”

Kaya caved. “Fine.” He kissed the top of her head and mouthed a thank you. “You owe me.”

“Sure, I do,” he dismissed, slapping her on her ass as Elena grabbed her to drag her away.

“Time to make magic.”

-----

It was a bad idea, one of many that had occurred, Kaya realized.

When she joked about wanting to play dress—up, she didn’t think that it would actually happen. She didn’t think that she’d become involved in his shoot. Kaya especially didn’t expect to have as much….fun as she did.

And she hated that, too. The fact that she managed to smile and laugh more in one setting than she had in, hell, longer than she could remember. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.

She really, really didn’t like the way Chris looked at her every time she walked onto set in a new look, and there were a couple of them. The way he focused on her, eyes taking in every bit of her form, all the way down from her shoes up to her hair. Like he didn’t want to look away. Like he couldn’t look away. She despised the way he held her when they were photographed together, often being the reason for her smile or laughter with his comments that he whispered into her ear, sneaking in a kiss against her temple or holding her against him.

It was all so domestic and sweet, and it made no sense.

He was starting to make no sense.

And she especially didn’t understand why she was putting off leaving the bathroom, having sat on the toilet for at least 15 minutes.

As if on cue, two loud knocks on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“I’m coming, damnit.”

“That’s what you said last time. Come on, Kaya.” She was both surprised and annoyed that it was Chris. She expected it to be members of the glam team that he’d hired to help her prepare for the GQ function he was invited to, and of course, she was forced to accompany him. Turns out he wasn’t just chosen for the cover. He was man of the year. “We’re going to be late.”

“Maybe you should just leave me behind,” she muttered.

“Maybe I can just kick this damn door down,” he countered.

“Then you’ll have to pay for the damages.”

“Then I’ll buy the damn hotel,” he shot back testily. “I’m not going to ask you again, Kaya.”

She scowled and rolled her neck. Kaya knew he was being serious. The bastard could buy his way out of anything.

If only….

Blowing out a deep breath, she swallowed and stood, holding up her dress. It was undoubtedly beautiful, gold, a slit in the middle of her chest and on her left leg exposing more skin than she would have thought appropriate. Her curls were styled in a fancy updo, and her makeup was equally as bold as her dress, finalized with a red lip. She knew that she looked good, and that’s what scared her.

Chris had been looking at her like that all day, and she couldn’t keep handling it.

If she could even consider it handling. Managing was perhaps a better term. Poorly managing was the perfect term.

Kaya ripped open the door and plastered on a fake smile. “Happy?”

And there it was, his eyes widened and softened as he gave her a onceover. “And don’t tell me I look beautiful, cause’ I already know it.”

Kaya figured if she said it for him, she wouldn’t have to deal with the weird and uncomfortable knotting in her stomach that she experienced every time he complimented her.

And it worked, he said nothing, only helping to hold up her dress as they walked to the SUV that would escort them. In the car, she was also pleasantly surprised that he didn’t attempt to make small talk with her during the drive. She was certain, however, that it was because he took at least three different work calls during that time.

She made drafted Tik Toks in the meantime.

When they finally arrived, Kaya nearly ran out of the car right then and there.

“Is that a red carpet?” Her mouth dropped. “What the hell? You said nothing about having to walk a damn carpet that is red.”

He chuckled. Kaya realized his hand was on the exposed portion of her thigh. “Stay close to me, and I’ll take care of you. You’ll be fine.”

Kaya was used to having eyes on her, but that didn’t mean she liked it, especially when it didn’t involve money being thrown her way. “I don’t have to say anything, do I?”

He squeezed her thigh. “You’ll most likely receive compliments.”

“I can handle that,” she spoke more to herself than him. “Just long as no one asks if I prefer cats over dogs or whatever shit they ask.”

He laughed quietly and looked at her. “You ready?”

No. “Yes.”

Chris climbed out the car first so that he could help her out of the vehicle, and as soon as she stepped out, she cursed to herself. There were so many damn people. People taking photographs. People being photographed. People helping both the people the photographed and the photographers. And then there was her. She felt so out of place.

If he wasn’t already holding her hand, she would have grabbed for his.

Kaya used her left hand to hold up her dress, while making sure that she stayed close to Chris who led the way, smiling for the camera while sparing her glances every so often to assess her level of comfort.

Kaya played along, evoking a smile as she posed with him for a few photos. That’s when it started again. Like the photoshoot from a few hours ago, she found herself feeling less forced and more comfortable. Like, it was natural.

Like it was real.

Kaya was eventually allowed to stand to the side as he gave a few interviews, some in English, most in Italian. She’d meant to ask him earlier when the hell he learned to speak so many languages. This was the third she’d learned of. She had a feeling at least one or two journalists asked about her, because he would look in her direction and shoot a wink or something of the sort.

Her smile was a natural reaction.

The process was less daunting than she anticipated, not that she’d ever admit that to him. It was once they moved inside that Kaya realized they’d yet to reach the hard part. That hardest part was “socializing” with the guests, many of which were white, spicy white at best. She spotted some minorities but found that they were just as distant as the rest.

The vim of the event was welcoming, however, which confused Kaya to some extent. She simplified it down to the event was nice, the people were trash, and Chris was both an ass and a gentleman for forcing her to come.

He’d introduced her to a few people, most of which spoke poor English. That, she could acknowledge, was nice. Not the strained English, but his obvious concern for her wellbeing. He was going out of his way to make her feel as comfortable as he could.

It was also irritating because it resurfaced those damn knots.

They were seated at a table, and he was texting someone when she leaned over and tugged on his sleeve. Kaya also took a moment to appreciate how nice he looked. The man was something sinful in a suit. “I think I know him.”

He looked up, immediately locking his phone. “Who?”

She gestured with her chin. “The guy over there talking to the girl with the green dress. But don’t look at them.”

His eyes lifted to the ceiling. Right before he proceeded to look right in that direction.

She laughed despite her irritation. “What did I literally just fucking say?”

“I’ll never understand why people want to do something without actually doing it. I don’t have the time.” She shook her head. He was so impatient. “And how do you know him?”

She lifted a brow. He asked with a newfound sense of urgency. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed it came from a place of jealousy.

Kaya studied the stranger across the room again when her eyes widened. “I know. He’s that actor from that porn movie we watched.”

“We don’t watch porn, Kaya. We make it.”

“Stop it.” She leaned closer, hating that her smile contrasted the frustration she felt with how vulgar he was speaking in such a public setting. “And you know the movie where they…..ya know, basically the whole time, and he kept asking in that godawful delivery, are you lost, baby girl?”

Her equally terrible impression caused him to laugh quietly. “I think that is him.”

“I told you.” She spoke a little louder than she would have liked due to her excitement at being correct. “He looks better on screen.”

Chris glanced over at him once more and scoffed. “He’s scrawny.”

“Sir, not everyone is like you and built like a fucking tanker.”

“Not my problem.”

Kaya rolled her eyes and gathered her dress. “I’ll be back. I have to use the restroom.” She stood and leaned over, arms around him from behind as she whispered. “Try not to be too much of a dick while I’m gone, okay?”

He turned to look at her. “And where’s the fun in that?”

Turns out finding the bathroom was a harder task than she’d anticipated. She’d asked one of the servers while maneuvering through the crowd, but it also turned out that Kaya wasn’t the best with directions. She did find it, though.

Eventually.

Kaya was navigating her way back to Chris when she was stopped by a man in a suit along the way.

He was of average height, average build, and average attraction. She was immediately annoyed.

“Hi,” Kaya greeted with a tight smile.

“Hello,” he smiled. Add in average dental health. “You are very beautiful.”

Kaya realized he didn’t have an accent, either. American, most likely. “Uhh, thank you.” When she moved to walk past him, he blocked her. “Sir, I really should—”

“How much?”

Her eyes darted to either side. “I’m sorry?”

“Money is no issue, as I’m sure you can see, and I’d like you for a week.” He stepped closer, bringing his hand to trail it down her arm. “Longer even, perhaps.”

“Sir, I have no idea what you are talking about, and please do not touch me.” It wasn’t so much of a request as much as it was a demand. “Now, I really should—”

“You’re not American.” Kaya continued to be confused as hell when his eyes lit up with excitement. “That explains why you look so exotic.” Confusion easily morphed into rage as she finally caught on to what he was referring to. “I bet you feel di—”

“You’re disgusting,” she hissed, pulling away from him. “I am not a fucking prostitute—”

“Call it what you want, girl,” he dismissed. “I don’t judge. I can pay you well.”

“Go fuck yourself, you sick son of a bitch,” she cursed, turning away when he grabbed her arm. “Let me go.”

“You think that you’re special?” He’d taken on another tone, one that conveyed his anger at being rejected. “The fuckin’ stall I just pissed in is worth more than you, bitch.”

Kaya refused to allow him to see her cry, but she’d be lying if she tried to say that his words didn’t sting, especially his next verbal attack.

“You can slap on that expensive dress and let Hemsworth make you feel special, but I know, you know, and everyone else in this fucking place knows that you’re nothing but a cheap, illegal whore—” Panic arose when he moved his hand to the exposed skin of her thigh, squeezing tightly. His hand started to inch upward when Kaya acted on instinct. He cursed aloud while Kaya gasped as she realized that she’d silenced him with her fist dead square in the middle of his face. “You fucking bitch!”

Shock and fear took over as Kaya gathered the bottom of her dress and ran, as much as the gown and her heels would allow, that is. Certain he was going to chase her for retribution, she consistently looked back, unaware that she needed to be just as aware of what was in front as what was behind.

She shrieked and immediately went to pull herself away from the strong body she’d collided with.

“Kaya.” Refocusing her attention, she looked up and realized it was Chris. “Where the hell—” He stopped amid his statement when he took in her appearance and realized that she was crying. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Kaya looked down, speaking more to herself than him. Not that it mattered. He was judging based on what he saw instead of what she said. He’d learned by now that her words rarely matched the truth. “Let’s just go—”

“Kaya,” he repeated, softer. Chris brought his hands to her face, forcing her to meet his gaze as he asked again, slowly. “What happened?” A strike of anger flashed in his blue eyes. “Did someone touch you?”

“No,” she answered, quickly. Too quickly.

The anger escalated exponentially. “Who? Tell me.”

Kaya could have slapped herself. She wasn’t helping the situation. She was making it worse. “It doesn’t matter, I hit him, and now he’s probably going to sue you—”

“Where is he?” Chris was looking behind her, eyes flaming. He was livid. “Show me. Now.”

“No.” Speaking was becoming an increasing challenge, especially against the backdrop of overwhelming emotions. Everything she’d been feeling, preventing herself from feeling, and afraid to acknowledge was gradually bubbling to the surface. “Just—just let me go back to the hotel. I’m messing everything up for you.”

He calmed for a second, realizing what was happening. Chris was unfamiliar with this side of her. Unfamiliar with seeing her so vulnerable. “What?”

Kaya suddenly realized that her eyes were burning again. She was fighting back tears. “I’ll give you back the money for the day, it’s—it’s fine, you’re better off without me here—”

Her offer to pay him incensed Chris. This wasn’t about the money. It stopped being about the money a long time ago, even if he hadn’t realized that until today. “I don’t want the fucking money, Kaya.”

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Don’t—don’t say that.”

“Why? It’s the truth.”

“Please,” she plead. Control over her emotions was a battle she’d all but lost at that point. Her words, she was certain, would be next.

He raised his voice. Chris sensed, saw that she was uncomfortable, but he also realized that this was what she needed. A push. “Why?”

“Because this all about the fucking money, okay?” She matched his volume, accepting that her tears were going to fall no matter how much she willed them not to. She’d lost the war. “It has to be about the money, because if it isn’t then that means you care, and—you can’t, alright?”

He studied her, wondering if she realized this conversation was difficult for him too. He brought his hand to the side of her face. “Why is it so impossible for you to accept that I fucking care about you?”

She looked up, glistening eyes and wavering voice. “Because then I have to admit that I care about you too, and I can’t do that.” She spoke to herself, as if vocalizing it would cement a decision that was already out of her hands. “I won’t do it.”

“Why?” He pressed. Chris brought his other hand to the other side of her face, cupping it and moving closer. He gave zero fucks about where they were and who could have possibly overheard. “Why are you fighting this so hard?”

She pulled herself away from him, back colliding against the wall as she blurted, “because all I do is hurt the people I care about alright?” In that moment, Kaya realized she was so far gone that the point of return was no longer an option. Her mouth trembled as she struggled to form her next sentence, listing off names with her fingers as props. “Mami, Papi, Nia. Hell, my own brother is dead because of me.” A beat. “I’ll only hurt you, and I care about you too much to do that.”

“Kaya—"

A newfound heaviness started to weigh upon her chest, another blockade to her speech. “I’m standing here in a dress I can’t afford, a building I can’t even fucking pronounce, and with a man I don’t deserve.”

His voice lowered. “Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I don’t deserve you?” Kaya looked at him, her eyes softening before she squinted, her face scrunching up in obvious pain.

He took note of this. As invested as Chris was in finally getting Kaya to open up about how she really felt, her wellbeing would always be his primary concern.

“Kaya.” He placed his hands on her waist, steadying her. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” She blinked several times, blinding lights obscuring her vision. “I—can’t—" Kaya felt the firmness of his chest, inhaled the scent of his cologne, and heard her name on his lips before everything faded to black.

-----

She awoke on her side, body clutched against a pillow, and a thin sheet covering half her body. Never one to take her time returning to her senses, she forced herself to sit up, eyes still scrunched from the sleep.

Looking down she realized she was dressed in only one of Chris’s dress shirts, her dress discarded.

Memory returned as Kaya replayed the events that transpired prior to her slumber. The photoshoot. The party. The asshole.

Chris.

“I don’t care. Tell them to send it in the mail or something.”

She recognized his voice traveling from the living room area, prompting her to swing her legs over the bed, her toes submerging into the soft carpet. She’d never been in such a fine hotel where the carpeting probably cost more than six months’ worth of rent on her one-bedroom apartment.

“Evans, I don’t give a flying fuck about any of that right now. You can handle it. I don’t care.”

Kaya contemplated remaining where she was, eavesdropping without being detected. She quickly decided against it. She’d done enough.

Her feet carried her out of the room, and she stood in the doorway where she saw he was standing against the massive window that provided a breathtaking overview of the city.

Again, she considered leaving him be, but he either had exceptional peripheral vision or caught her reflection in the window because he spun around. Kaya’s eyebrows furrowed when she realized he was still dressed in his suit, with the expectation of the jacket and dress shirt which were both discarded, leaving the white undershirt.

Uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, more concern than that, she settled onto the sofa, pulling a decorative pillow to her chest as she crossed her legs.

“I have to go,” he spoke briefly before pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up.

Kaya swallowed. He’d yet to speak, so she took the opportunity to do so. “Still don’t believe me when I said I’m a hot mess?”

“What happened tonight, Kaya?”

“Which part?” She knew that playing coy wasn’t the best route, but she was forever stubborn and would fight until she had nothing left. “Where I ruined your evening, assaulted a millionaire, told you one of my deepest secrets, or fainted in your arms? There’s a lot.”

“All of it.”

She looked away and licked her lips. Kaya felt cornered, absolutely trapped. Emotionally. She’d always assumed being physically stuck would feel far more suffocating and frightening. She was wrong.

Kaya considered her options, though far and few in between. She could deflect. She was a master at that. She could redirect blame onto him. Call him out on even making her go on the trip, for not telling her ahead of time what to expect, maybe throw in a few insults. And lastly, the most frightening of them all, she could be honest.

That was the scariest of them all.

“I lied to you.” The words spilled out before she realized it, but Kaya accepted the fact that she was tired. There was only so much she could carry, and she’d reached her limits. “My—my parents aren’t dead. They still live in the same house in Parlier that I grew up in with Denes. He’s—he was my brother.” It felt strange talking about, verbalizing what she’d quietly struggled with for so many years. And yet, there was a peace that accompanied the release. “He was such a beautiful little boy, but….different. He didn’t talk much, life skills were….hard for him, and he had these fixations on certain things. He didn’t like change.”

“Kaya, you don’t—”

“When I was eleven, and he was eight, my parents found out they were pregnant. They’d been trying for so long….they were so happy.” She roughly wiped at her face to do away with the silent tears that fell. The crying, however, was inevitable. “One day, they had a checkup appointment, and the babysitter fell through, so they asked me to watch Denes.” She nodded slowly, reverting to the same rush of emotions she felt that day. “I was so….mad, because my friend had just gotten Guitar Hero, and I was supposed to walk down to her house so we could play it.” To that day, Kaya felt a strong surge of rage whenever she ran across a throwback picture or read an article referring to that game. It was a trigger.

“My parents promised that I could go when they returned, but I just couldn’t wait.” Her nose turned up with disgust, disgust directed 100% inward. “I just had to go play that stupid fucking game.”

“Denes loved birds. They were one of his fixations. They think—they think he saw one outside our living room window or something and walked outside to see if he could catch it because, of course, I forgot to lock the front door.” She stared off into space before closing her eyes. “I had just walked into my friend’s house when I heard someone scream like I’ve never heard a scream before.” Kaya tugged the pillow closer to her chest and lowered her head. “I ran back so fast because I thought—I thought I could help him. I thought I could save him.” Her voice cracked. “—But there was so much blood, and he was so hurt—he died in the middle of the street, bleeding, terrified, and it was all my fault.”

Chris closed his eyes and shook his head. “Kaya—”

“They never found the driver,” she added quietly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “The shock of it all……it was too much for my mom, and she miscarried.” Kaya laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of humor. “I spiraled after Denes passed. Everything bad and terrible I could get myself into, I did. I—I skipped class, I partied, I drank, I tried drugs.” She scoffed. “I lost my virginity when I was thirteen to some guy whose name I still don’t know because I was so drunk.” She leaned back into the sofa, staring at the intricate pattern of the rug. “I just—at the time, I thought if I did enough, I could make my parents hate me, because it’s what I deserved. But for everything I tried, they kept giving me chance after chance.”

“So, then I attempted suicide, twice, and I couldn’t even do that right.” She groaned and wiped at her eyes again. The cuffs of the shirt were nearly soaked. “I realized that God or the universe or whomever clearly wanted me to suffer and to live with my guilt, but in the midst of trying to punish myself, I failed to realize that all I’d done was cause my parents more pain.”

“Day of my high school graduation, I woke up at the crack of dawn to pack up my bags, told my parents that I was going out with some friends, but I’d be home by 7—and I haven’t seen or spoken with them since.”

She clapped and lifted her hands. “And there you have it. You’ve now seen me naked; you’ve seen me cry, and now you know that I’m a murderer—”

“You’re not a murderer, Kaya,” he was finally able to complete his sentence, still very much in shock over what she’d disclosed. “And what happened to your brother wasn’t your fault.”

Chris watched her demeanor soften, shifting from her previous facetious tone to a more somber tone. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m saying it because it’s the truth. You were a child.”

She shrugged sadly. “So was he.”

“That still doesn’t make it your fault.”

She turned away from where he sat across from her. She hadn’t even realized he’d moved from his initial position by the window. Untangling her legs, she moved the pillow to the side and stood in front of him. “Why are you so nice to me? You should be running for the hills.”

Chris brought his hands to her waist and pulled her in between his spread legs. “Why do you keep asking questions you already know the answers to?”

“Even after everything I’ve done?” She whispered, emotion betraying her for the umpteenth time that day. “You—you still—you still feel….like that about me?”

“You’re stubborn, impulsive, argumentative, flippant, and undoubtedly one of the most complicated women I’ve ever met.” He slowly stood up, never once breaking eye contact as he cupped her face, fingers brushing away the dampness of her flushed cheeks. “And yet, seeing you smile is the highlight of my day.”

She chuckled and nervously cleared her throat. “So, was today subpar? Like, medium light? Half-light? It all went downhill after 12pm.”

He shook his head and kissed her forehead. “You are, in fact, a hot mess.”

Her fingers grasped at his sleeves. “I really am sorry about ruining your evening.”

“You didn’t ruin my evening, Kaya.” He brought his hand to her hair, pushing back the tendrils that had fallen from her updo. “Thank you for opening to me. I know that wasn’t easy.”

“It’s a lot easier opening up my legs,” she muttered, watching as he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry—you’re right. It’s—it’s not easy, and I don’t like talking about….feelings.” Her eyes lifted as she chewed on her bottom lip. “But, I do have feelings for you.” She shut her eyes and licked her top lip. “And there’s something else I need to tell you.”

His gaze softened. “Anything.”

It was so simple, the opportunity was available, the setting was perfect. She’d already told him the hardest part, now all she had to do was tell him the rest. The problem though, was that what she’d shared hadn’t changed much. It only helped him to understand her better. It would potentially improve their relationship.

This would destroy it.

She cleared her throat again. “If you tell anyone I’m capable of crying, I will smother you in your sleep.”

He chuckled and kissed her temple. “It’s late. I’m going to shower.” He studied her. “Try not to get into any more trouble, yeah?”

She smiled softly. “I make no promises.”

He gave her side a gentle squeeze before yawning as he walked back into the bedroom. Finally alone, she fell back onto the sofa and hugged the pillow against her body. Kaya felt both disgust and frustration. If there was a perfect moment to tell him, that was it, and now it was gone.

She was running out of time

-------

TAGS: @islandvamp @toni9 @destinyg237 @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @missyperle @kpizzletrash @brittyevans @mani-lifes @amorestevens @periodtcevans @hello-therree @shegoesbyarose @lettytheletdown @yanniebunnie @iwrite4poc @nycoledon @fangurlingismyforte @babe-im-bi @amirra88 @cocoamoonmalfoy @goldenrosexx @liquorlaughslove @ljstraightnochaser @jurneesjourney @bestyums-ever84 @notacamelthatsmywife @champagnesugamama @cest-la69vie @yanniebunny5151 @goldenrosexx

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#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fandom #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth x black!reader #chris hemsworth x black!oc #chris hemsworth x woc!oc #series: seasons of love

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obae-me · 4 years

Text

The Demons Inside- Part 2

Part 1 (Lucifer) Part 3 (Levi)

Description: Mammon’s Part of the request “The brothers reacting to an MC crying suddenly in front of them and then trying to act as if nothing happened”

Words: 2201

Mammon groaned, sinking down deep into the chair. He slumped down so far, his face was nearly eye level with the low table. How long had it been now? Two hours? Four? An entire night? The lecture his older brother was torturing him with was worse than being strung up on the ceiling. All of this over some dumb assignments.

“Mammon, are you listening to me?” The deep grumble of Lucifer’s voice snapped him back up in place. The demon of pride continued briskly pacing back and forth, gesturing towards the strewn papers on his desk. Even just a flickering glance over the parchment would reveal how poorly they were done. Red marks, endless corrections, poor letter grades. Oh how he hated the study. Lucifer only ever brought him here of his own volition when he wanted to chew Mammon out in private. When his brother was angry with him, he wasn’t afraid to let the entire household and Devildom know it, but when he was disappointed? He was forced to have one on one time, listening to Lucifer scold him with something darker than anger in his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve been listening to you prattle on for the past few hours now!” Mammon exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Lucifer’s eyelids lowered as he stopped pacing to look Mammon straight in the face. “Mammon, it’s only been twenty minutes.” With a wave of his hand, he brushed that irk aside, slightly impressed he used the word ‘prattle’. “Diavolo addressed me directly to confront you about this, Mammon. Do you understand the position you’re putting me in, the situation you’re putting yourself in?” The words were coming out of Lucifer’s mouth through gritted teeth. With one of his gloved hands, he plucked up a single assignment out of the many, showing it to his brother as if he didn’t already know what a failure it was. “Why can’t you just be like your brothers and get things done?”

How many times had they been through this now? How many times would they go through this same song and dance as if Lucifer didn’t already know the answer. Why him? Of all his siblings, why him? He severely doubted his older brother dragged his brothers down to have an in depth talk about their sins. He knew none of them were as severely punished as he ever was.

“Because I don’t want to! Why always me, eh? When was the last time you had Beel in here to talk about his eating habits?” He had almost had enough, he was out of his seat, hand on one hip, his teeth almost grinding together out of anger. Another push and he wouldn’t be able to control his form. The aura around him was already starting to thicken, the air getting hotter.

“Diavolo doesn’t approach me directly about Beel’s habits, but he ordered me to talk to you!” Lucifer closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, his voice calmer. “Sometimes we do things we don’t want to do.” Lucifer normally wouldn’t have hesitated to always be towering above his brother. Typically, at this point, his wings would’ve been unfurled, his eyes glowing, his form large and intimidating. But for right now, he stayed in his normal image, the bags of exhaustion and worry unable to hide themselves under Lucifer’s eyes. The firstborn pressed both of his palms on the surface of his desk as he leaned forward. “I know it’s harder on you than the others. I know how hard you fight against your sin, but I know you have the strength to-”

“Ah, don’t bring up that sorry line again, I’ve heard it enough.” Mammon looked his brother in the eyes before turning his back on him. “What’s the point? I’m outta here.” Mammon ran a hand through his hair to clear his vision. He had half a mind to keep his vision blurred with them, it was preferable to seeing his brother like this. It was better when he was angry. He hated it when it was...too real, too personal.

Mammon turned to leave, and instead of Lucifer dragging him back to save his own pride, he only called out to him one more time, haughty plopping down in his chair. “I know you’re capable of it, Mammon. Get it done. You’re...dismissed.”

“Tch.”

* * *

His skin still prickled with irritation, but he thought he had a plan that would best suit everyone. He knocked on the door, adjusting the many books and papers under his arm to prevent him from losing his grip. He had that typical golden Grimm-making smile on his face when the entrance swung open. The rush of air from within the bedroom flooded out the door, and he felt his body calm down with the scent and sight of MC.

“Mammon?” MC rubbed their eyes, they hadn’t quite been to sleep yet, but it was very late in the night, and anytime now Lucifer would be doing his Light’s Out rounds. They were already in their pajamas, a pencil still lingering in their dominant hand.

“I have a favor to ask of you, MC,” Mammon started, assuring himself that this would bring about the best outcome. Lucifer would get what he wanted, he would get what he wanted, and MC would get whatever they wanted for their efforts. He pulled out the large stack of books and papers from the crook of his arm, presenting them to MC. Their eyes went wide in a bit of shock, and MC braced themselves for the question they already knew. “Can you do my homework for me? It’s not too much, just a few essays, reports, multi-question assignments. You do this for me, and I’ll--get this--pay you for the work, eh?”

“I-uh…” MC stuttered as Mammon practically shoved the books into their hands. He beamed at them, looking at them with hopeful pleading eyes. MC was always so nice, they never hesitated to extend a helping hand, and it was just what he needed. MC struggled to carry the books in their arms, maybe it had been more than he expected. “I…”

“I’ll help carry these to your desk, what do you say?” He didn’t give them much of a chance to say anything regardless. He plucked the books back up, heading into their room while MC still struggled with words. The desk MC was using was already a mess, covered in stacks of tomes, multiple notebooks, and a plenty of assignments, more than should be assigned to one person. He raised an eyebrow as he placed his own books alongside the rest. He went to question them. “Oi, MC, what’re-” He swiveled his head to glance back at the human.

They had their head down, hands covering their face as their shoulders shuddered. The hair on the back of Mammon’s neck immediately stood up on end, the heart in his chest felt like it sunk down to the floor. Without another word, he was at MC’s side. The room, for him, was almost moving around him in circles as he watched MC cry. He bent his knees and squatted down slightly so he could try to look at MC’s bowed face. He grabbed them by the shoulders, thumbs rubbing their skin in small circles.

“Hey, hey, MC...listen you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. It was a joke! Yeah, a joke!” He forced out a laugh. MC didn’t laugh with him. Emotional walls he kept surrounding were cracking. Tonight had not been his night. He quickly left MC, taking heavy but quick steps back to their desk. Stupid, he was stupid. He grabbed his books back, talking to MC while he gathered his work. “So, I’ll-uh-just take these back, and-”

“No, wait.” He felt a hand touch his arm. MC tugged at the fabric of his sleeve. They were no longer crying, and for just a moment, Mammon wondered if he imagined the whole thing. Their eyes were a bit puffy, but already they had their usual smiles plastered over their lips. They were acting like nothing had happened. “I’ll do it. I’ll do your work.” They touched his hand and guided the stack back to the hard and cluttered surface. The gentle gesture caused his cheeks to go a bit red. Their actions were leaving him winded. Were they upset or not?

“I mean, if you want to.” With those words, Mammon saw MC’s lip twitch. As an avid and talented gambler, there was one form of body language that he was well acquainted with. Tells. Little physical involuntary forms of a lie. His eyes narrowed, and he took the time to actually get a closer look at all the work MC had. Assignments with MC’s handwriting but labeled with different names, multiple copies of the same book, even tasks from classes MC wasn’t even enrolled in. Nerves in his body jolted. His legs almost felt like shaking, what was he doing? Was he just another scummy demon dumping their work on a human? His human. What had he done?

“I don’t mind, Mammon.” MC placed his stuff to the side, alongside all the other works MC had taken upon them. They adjusted a pile of parchment, the tip of their finger fiddling with one of the corners. Their somber look of recognition that someone else would be taking credit for their work. “If it makes you happy, I’ll do it.” He watched the muscles in their throat strain to say the words. They didn’t want to. They didn’t want to do this any more than he did, and they were doing three times the work.

“And that’s what you want, huh? To do other people’s duties?” He found himself growling. MC looked up at him with mild shock. “So what happened, eh? Did they threaten you? Trick you?” He wanted to tear up everything on that desk, but he clenched his jaw and waited.

MC shook their head slowly, their hair falling in front of tired eyes. “Nothing like that, they just asked. Just like you did.”

Those words stabbed through him like a dull knife. He wanted to scream but the air in his lungs quickly went absent. He was finding it hard to breathe. “And you said yes? Why?” He took a few steps closer to them. He could feel their body heat, hear their ragged breaths.

MC squirmed in place, their lip betraying them. They were going to cry again. “Well...just because.” For some reason the lecture he had been privy to earlier reverberated around in his brain. MC’s gaze flickered around the room, avoiding him. He envisioned Lucifer and himself, the tough love his brother had shown him. He scoffed and shut his eyes as he silently thanked his brother for all that he taught him.

He gently took MC’s face in both of his hands and forced them to look at him. “Do you want to do it?” He knew the answer already, he just had to keep working on chipping away their stubborn wall. They continued to stammer, giving vague answers that avoided being a direct yes or no. “Do. You. Want. It?” He enunciated every word, wiping away a single tear that strolled down MC’s face. He was almost there. They grabbed his wrists, trying to break free, but Mammon wouldn’t let them go. He could hear their chest puff out suffocated sobs.

He watched their shields crumble down in front of him. MC leaned into his touch, tears unable to be held back any longer. “No...I don’t. I don’t want to do it anymore.” They allowed him to pull them close, and he let out a brisk sigh.

“You’re too selfless for your own good. It’s running ya ragged.” He fiddled with a strand of hair on the nape of their neck. “Can’t you be a little greedy?” They didn’t respond, they just kept on crying. He held onto them tighter. He tisked. “Listen, I’ve got a special one-of-a-kind deal for you.” He felt them start to calm down, slowly but surely. “Take some of my greed for yourself, eh? Greed isn’t always about money or power. Sometimes it’s about doing what you want, solely for the fact that you want it.” Their head swiveled up just enough so he could see their eyes. He almost choked up just looking at them. He cleared his throat. “You clearly don’t have a selfish bone in your body, so I’ll just have to do it for you. We’re tearing up those assignments. And…” He took a deep breath in. “Because I’m so great, this once-in-a-lifetime offer comes with me, Mammon, doing your work for you. IF-” He dried their eyes, thankful their fit had come to a close. His hand lingered on their skin. “You promise to do something for yourself in exchange.”

MC weakly agreed, and Mammon piled up MC’s work on top of his own to take to his room. He was unaware of the dark shadow lingering in the doorway that stepped away like a whisper. Striding away with a proud smile on their face.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader

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