#sorry for the emotional letter LOL but i figure the story should be out there. maybe it'll mean something to someone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

griffintail · 3 years

Note

I had this idea, I dunno if it’s dumb or not, but I figured if anyone knew it would be you! Y’know, cause you seem like you know way more than me about all these mcyt guys and gals? Anyways, I saw that a lot of people headcanon that Shlatt was Tubbo’s dad, and seeing all those dad!Shlatt AUs gave me an idea:

What if after Shlatt’s dead, after things have settled, after Tubbo becomes president and spends most of his time cleaning up the messes and mistakes Shlatt left behind- he discovers he wasn’t Shlatt’s only child. He finds handwritten letters in Shlatt’s files from a distant village, all of them fairly recent, asking him for child support money, or asking him to take “his mistake” with him. But the last letter Tubbo finds is a typed one informing Shlatt that the woman who sent all the previous letters has died, and that he has 1 month to come collect his child, or they’ll become a ward of the state; it’s been roughly 2 and a half weeks since that letter arrived. How would Tubbo react to all of this, and more importantly, would he take on the responsibility of becoming his new sibling’s guardian?

I don’t know how I became the person to come to for this lol. I hope you enjoy!

The Girl with the Horns

Pairings: Brother! Tubbo x Child! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of emotional abuse, Implied Buillying, Swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo looked up the old White House building, taking a deep breath before going in. Inside, he immediately scrunched up his nose at the familiar smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

“Damn it, dad.” He muttered under his breath before starting to clean up the building.

He said he’d clean the building out himself as his father was the one who trashed it and now was that day. A lot of his presidency was cleaning up Schlatt’s mistakes before he even ran the rest of his new country. He sighed as he put another empty bottle in a trash bag. Schlatt had really lost it running things.

Slowly but surely, Tubbo was able to get the White House to a much cleaner state. He was now in the main office and was searching the drawers for his father's inevitable “secret” booze stashes when he found some handwritten letters tucked in the very back of the drawer. Frowning, Tubbo took them out and saw them all addressed to Schlatt.

Sitting down, Tubbo read the letter on top and his eyes went wide, back going straight as he reread the words before him.

I want money for this child you helped bring into this world!

A child?

The rest of the letter was talking about asking for child support and Tubbo was floored. Quickly, he read the next letter and it was much of the same, demanding Schlatt to take responsibility.

“Holy shit…” Tubbo muttered. “I got…I got a sibling?”

He made his way through the rest of the letters, his heart clenching when the woman writing the letters called his poor sibling a mistake or made stabs at Schlatt.

Then the last letter was a lot more formal. It was stamped with an official seal and dated. Schlatt had opened it as told by the broken seal but had obviously also put the letter back without a care after reading. Tubbo’s breath hitched as he read the letter though.

Dear Mr. Jschlatt:

We are sorry to inform you Miss Trentha has passed in an accident.

Behind, she has left a five-year-old (Y/N), of which in our records has your name on her birth papers. We will give you a month’s time to make a decision; after, we will have no choice but to send (Y/N) to become a ward of the state.

Tubbo quickly looked at the date of when the letter was sent.

“Two and a half weeks!” Tubbo exclaimed as he jumped up. “Shit! What should I do?”

He looked around the office he had spent time cleaning trying to process everything at once, words failing him. In a few short moments, he had found out he wasn’t an only child, that Schlatt hadn’t even looked back at this girl or her horrible mother, and that the sibling he just found out about was going to become a ward of the state! Schlatt had at least been kind enough to Tubbo to let Philza raise him but this child going into the adoption system…

“I-I got to run L’Manberg. There’s so much to do.” Tubbo ran a hand through his hair as he panicked.

But then Tommy’s words echoed in his head.

You can’t become the next Schlatt.

Schlatt was obviously going to let this child fend for themselves, Tubbo couldn’t be his father. He had to at least meet them. With a new will, he gathered around his friends, and with reassurances that they had L’Manberg covered, Tubbo set off on a horse to the village. It was a good three-day journey, so he’d only have roughly a week left to make his decision of what he was going to do.

Coming to the village, Tubbo took a deep breath as he stared at it. What was she going to be like? She probably didn’t have the best raising based on the letters that the mother sent. Tying up the horse outside the main hall, Tubbo went in, going through the various processes to prove that he was indeed Jschlatt’s child and proving that his father was dead.

After, they took Tubbo to a home where a bunch of children were outside playing but there was one that stood out among them and it wasn’t because she was sitting alone. It was because she had tiny horns on top of her head that were just starting to come in. Tubbo put a hand on his horns that were just starting to curl without thinking.

“That’s (Y/N).” The man that led him here nodded to the little girl.

“She’s five, right?” Tubbo asked.

“Yes. She’s not very talkative, but you can introduce yourself to her.”

Tubbo had few guesses why she didn’t want to talk. He went over, a few of the other kids were pointing at him. (Y/N) was using a stick to push images in the dirt, looking up when a shadow got in the way of the sun. Tubbo smiled when he saw her surprise when she looked up at him, he sitting next to her, wearing his casual wear rather than his suit.

“Hi. I’m Tubbo.” He introduced himself to her.

(Y/N) was silent as she stared obviously at his horns. “You have horns…”

“Yeah, I do. I’m a ram just like you.”

“Really?” She met his eyes now.

“Mhm. I, uh, I actually knew your dad because he was my dad.”

She shifted as she looked back at the ground. “Daddy was a bad man.”

Tubbo winced, putting a hand on his neck. “Why do you say that?”

“Mommy use to say that.”

“Ah. Well…dad wasn’t the greatest, I agree. It wasn’t nice for him to leave you alone.”

The little girl was silent and Tubbo tried to think of a subject change.

“Do you like drawing?”

She nodded. “Mommy wouldn’t let me use paper but I like drawing in the dirt.”

“Oh…do you…have any friends?”

She put a hand on one of her little horns and he immediately understood.

“I get it.” He smiled gently, putting a hand on his horn. “I didn’t have a lot of friends until I met my best friend Tommy. I’m sure you will find some friends.”

His heart melted as she gave him her first small smile. “I hope so.”

He sat with her just talking away, the time passing so fast without either of them knowing as they talked. He felt like he learned so much but so little about her; yet, he loved every moment sitting with her. She had to go back with the other children of the orphanage but within a few hours, Tubbo made up his mind. He couldn’t leave this little girl with everyone else; he’d take her back to L’Manberg.

So, in the morning, Tubbo put on his suit to be professional and he did the paperwork before waiting for them to bring (Y/N). (Y/N) came in timidly and Tubbo smiled gently as he crouched in front of her.

“Hey, so, I don’t want to leave without you, would you like to come with me? I can introduce you to a few of my good friends.”

“…They’re all nice like you, right?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, a few of them are pretty nice.”

She looked around but nodded. “Ok.”

He grinned as he stood up. “Then I’m going to take you back to my home.”

They got the few things that she owned and Tubbo put them on the horse. After, Tubbo changed into more appropriate riding clothes before getting on with (Y/N).

“Alright, here we go.” He muttered before getting the horse to go.

Off they went to L’Manberg, Tubbo making sure they had shelter each night. It was a bit stressful for Tubbo on these few days. He had gotten used to not eating every day but he had to remember now to make sure (Y/N) ate. He also had to remember this was boring as hell for her so he tried his best to make little games as they galloped along. There was a point he went off on a bee tangent for half an hour after spotting one and pouted to himself when he saw (Y/N) had fallen asleep against him but he kept an arm wrapped around her so she didn’t fall off.

As he got back to L’Manberg, he huffed as he saw Tommy and Fundy arguing as Quackity was laughing, Ranboo standing to the side awkwardly. Yeah, that’s how he expected his cabinet to act with him gone. He tied up his horse, grabbing (Y/N)’s things before taking her hand as he walked over to them. As the pair went over, (Y/N) hide behind him shyly.

“Guys!” Tubbo called.

“Tubbo! Tell this furry bitch—” Tommy started.

“Oh, fuck off Tommy!” Fundy shouted back.

They started having another go.

“GUYS!” Tubbo shouted, making (Y/N) jump with the rest of the group. “I have someone for you to meet, so can you shut it?”

Tommy spotted the little girl peeking out from behind Tubbo, noticing the horns first.

“Holy shit, she has horns like yours.” Tommy went around Tubbo.

“Yeah, this is (Y/N), she’s my little sister.”

“A sister?!” Tommy looked at Tubbo surprised.

Tubbo nodded. “I adopted her.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s a long story but I’m back and I’m got to bring her to my house,” Tubbo told them before walking off, feeling the little girl squeeze his hand tighter, probably getting overwhelmed.

They got to Tubbo’s house and he looked around.

“Er…You can have my room. I’ll need to make you a room.” He smiled at her.

“Ok…thank you.”

He patted her head between her horns. “I couldn’t leave you behind sis. Let’s get you settled in and I can make us some steak. Sound good?”

She nodded.

Tubbo knew it would be stressful learning to take care of another human while he had to run a nation but he had his friends to help him. He hoped he could do all this right.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #tubbo x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp x reader

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shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

Prelude - I need to stop catching sight of poetry on my explore page lol. This is entirely self-indulgent and very specific cause I’m rotting thru life rn and so if u dislike I understand lol. When I was in the hospital this last time it sucked rlly bad and like the awful horny degenerate I was I kept thinking abt Kirishima and soft sweet Sugawara idk lol

Pairing - Death god Kirishima x Reader

Warnings - Suicide, suicide attempt, no smut. Death. Drunk Drivers. Yandere but only a little bit and cause I can’t voluntarily accept love it has to be forced bc I cannot handle the thot of someone who is sane loving me bc there is no freaking way lol

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5Iy1wdO0tMaHwKnfFYtlel?si=-vqod-W6SHia8ui2Hdl_9g

Adding this one bc it’s like one of my favorites and I wish god I wish and I hope that this year is better than the last amen lol also there’s nothing more sad to me than someone pleading and begging and crying for the year to treat you nicely like bitch u okay? no. the answer is no.

https://open.spotify.com/track/0xRO7EKgYKVB8zKIoiXMDD?si=HYBaiBzjRGmQwfCHgnTUxA

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“It hurts.” You had told him, as the entity sat at the end of your hospital bed.

He often sank heavily onto the nearest surface, as if his bones ached with the weight of his body. You saw him often during those first few days in the hospital, days spent puking up pills, every move you made monitored, doctors and nurses scolding you about the severity of your actions.

You didn’t think they could see the hulking figure that comforted you.

“I”ve heard that it’s supposed to.” The red god of death would think aloud.

“I don’t want it then.” Tears upon your cheeks, soft, misty. “Take it.”

“Your life?” A nod would affirm his question, but the red god would shake his head. “I am no thief. Not a hunter, simply a gatherer of souls. I won’t take what doesn’t belong to me.”

“Then it’s yours, have my life. A gift, from me to you. Don’t make me live it any longer…..”

His sadness would show in his eyes.

But the soul-crushing hugs that were provided were admittedly a tiny bit nice.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good. I’ll receive your life when the time is right, not before.”

“But I don’t want it!” You sobbed into his shoulder, the god seeming to be your only friend in the world.

Hands stroked along your back, soft shushing sounds as the god attempted to soothe you in the ways he knew how. Soft touches, kind truths. “Many don’t. But it happens - life happens anyways. All you can do is find the things that make it less painful.”

“That’s not enough, it still hurts. I can’t stand it.” The sobs wracking your body didn’t stop the entity from holding you.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

——

He’s patient and kind.

Surprising for a god who’s work involves collecting souls as if they were taxes. A job that should be bitter and tiresome, but the entity has infinite softness resting inside of him.

He walks with you, as you get “better“.

You watch him stop to marvel at flowers, to study the way dew drips from trees in little drops, eyes wide and wondering as crows startle from their perches and take off with noisy weeping.

This courtyard is drab and brown, a prison. Safe.

Yet the god of death treats the space gently, with respect. He thanks the old walls for standing, the worn stones beneath your feet. Their service is noted and appreciated. He’s so tender it almost makes you sick.

But you come to realize that he’s simply allowing himself to be vulnerable, to experience the earth and the beings in it.

For as soon as one recognizes vulnerability, which is so different from weakness or tragedy, one experiences a sense of tenderness. Without tenderness, pleasure means nothing. You need only look at the animals to see the truth of that. It is gentleness that distinguishes their playing from the actions they constantly take to ensure their survival.

You ask why he walks with you, why he is so focused on seeing you get “better“.

A soft smile, a meeting of eyes. “There is an end to your pain, sometime and somewhere. It’s most likely not here, not in this place at least-“ and he looks around, at the cold walls, the other sick patients, the staff. All human.

“-It will come. But for now, it’s enough to try and seek it out ourselves.”

You must look more sick than you really are, talking to thin air like that.

——-

Once you return home, the red god writes you letters.

He’s an old soul, an old god. You’re sure if you asked, he’d be able to recount the very first souls he reaped, a man and a woman, sinful and sweet but in love.

The letters help you get out of bed. What new stories or little quips the god has written pique your curiosity, even when you don’t want to move, don’t want to be awake or alive.

He tells you stories about certain souls, how each one is infinitely interesting, how they all interconnect. How some of them struggle against him, however fruitlessly. But he’s not the one who brought about their death, he’s there to comfort and guide.

Other souls, (“souls like yours” he writes) welcome him, run to his arms like a long lost lover. Their death was terrifying by their own hand, and it hurt. He can’t take away that pain, those memories. The red god says he wishes those souls find peace wherever he must take them afterwards, or at least, some form of contentment.

“The meaning of life is to give life meaning, at least, that’s what seems to be the consensus.” You rip off that part of the letter, hang it on your wall by your bed. The other letters you keep in your nightstand, content with the knowledge that there are souls out there like you

It’s hard work, creating meaning for yourself.

The red god takes to visiting you between each letter, says he misses you, the way your soul cries. He tells you that he wishes he could help you quiet it, quiet that raging, terrible storm that hurls you about.

You make him cookies - it’s the only way you know how to say thank you. It’s what your mother taught you, so it may not be right, but the god eats them nonetheless. He likes it when you eat with him, feeding you bites from his cookie, wiping chocolate off of your nose, making you laugh with stupid jokes and a mouth stuffed full of cookies.

Even if some of them are too crunchy, or others too soft, all of them imperfect.

Imperfection is the essence of humanity, he tells you, and it’s more fun eating each cookie with the thought that you’re devouring your imperfections, making yourself whole again, filling up the empty spaces in your soul.

——

Eventually, the crawl back to your feet, rise with the unsteadiness of a toddler. You fall frequently, cry often, but you’re able to get up and try again.

Some days you need to bury yourself in sadness, let yourself feel and feel and hurt. Other days are not so bad, but still tinged with regret and fear and sadness.

The red god is by your side, gives you something to cling to when you waver.

He is always there.

He will be there when you meet your end.

The god is in no hurry.

You question why he wastes his time on you, hours spent reassuring you, talking to you, tucking you in your bed and leaving glasses of water on your nightstand before taking his leave.

Home is a feeling, not a place. Home is with you - that’s what he tells you. You take his breath away, even though he might not even need to breath because he’s the god of death. HIs thoughts muddle and he trips over his feet and can’t help himself from wanting to hold you.

You learn that even gods yearn for home.

He’s capable of feelings and emotions just like any other human. He may be wiser, and older, able to draw from experience and a deep well of wisdom. But he still feels, and feels deeply.

Just as he gives the earth around him such reverence, he extends that same attitude when he deals with you.

“Everything I see reminds me of you. When I wake and the sun creeps over the mountains, hesitant, it reminds me of the way that you rise - haltingly, yet it happens nonetheless. The flowers in the field that so steadily grow, you’re like ground they take root in, soft and unstable yet still tenable with the potential for growth. I don’t know, I haven’t exactly held such closeness with a human-“

He trails off, but you think you understand.

Maybe you don’t. It’s hard to relate to a god.

——

A confession occurs, and you’re surprised to learn that the blood-red god of death is in love.

“What did my hands do before they held yours? What did my heart do without all of this love? I can’t hold enough of you, I carry such love for you in my heart.”

With a frail, hopeless human nonetheless.

You don’t know what to tell him, how to explain that you can barely take care of yourself right now, meet your own needs.

But the red god seems to know, seems to understand the way your breath hitches and your eyes widen. One more hug, squeezed tight to his chest while he promises nothing has to change.

Things do change, even if you wish them not to. The world doesn’t bow to your whims, nor the death-god’s.

Innocent touches, his hand on your shoulder, patting your head, offering to rub out the tension in your back after you’ve had a crushing day - they don’t feel so innocent anymore.

The constant survellience still seemed kind, and you knew it was with your best intentions in mind that the god hovered so close, invading every aspect of your life.

But a creeping tendril of unease took hold, and you worried.

Everywhere you turned, he would be there, ready to support you, walk you through anything you wished.

Again, you questioned his commitment. Why? Why you?

“I can’t explain how fond of you I’ve grown. How heat blossomed in my chest as we grew closer. There’s infinite things I wish to say to you, ways for me to express my-my love, but I’ll just let you live.”

He neither killed you nor let you live.

Was it frightening? Maybe. But you had nothing to really live for, lost, searching for your own meaning in a big big world, floundering in an endless sea of sadness and suffering. You weren’t afraid of anything the god could, or would, do to you.

Until you woke up, not knowing where you were, in pitch black.

Arms encircling your shoulders, a soft body beneath your own, holding you tightly, a hand caressing your cheek.

A sun rose, on a strange new land, on the blood-red god gazing at you.

“There seemed to be so much more time for you. But accidents happen, Drivers drink and hearts give out. I was expecting you to grow old, for us to live and love like that, see how you grew through life.”

He looked around this new world, and you vaguely remember what had come before. A walk along the sidewalk, blaring horns, impact, blood.

“But this will be just as nice. You can stay here with me now. Life can’t cause you anymore pain.”

You don’t feel comforted by those words. There’s no way for you to know whether this new world would be better than the one you left behind.

#kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #bnha kirishima #kirishima x you #yandere #Yandere kirishima #tw.death #tw.suicide

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Text

it’s just what you do.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: “my problem is that if you bring anymore whores around and it’ll start to feel like a brothel in here. and i am far too young to be a madam.”

word count: 6.0k

a/n: if you’ve read some of my st stories, you know i have a little bit of a love for bratty, bitchy readers lol so here ya go! a bratty bitchy reader in the hg universe! (though the reader is pretty tame for what i usually write for a bitchy!reader) i hope you enjoy, and if you do let me know in some feedback (:

You padded down cold stairs in bare feet, yawning as you did. You could already hear Roman and Peter talking quietly at the breakfast bar over cold cereal and sleep graveled voices as you reached the bottom landing. You stretched your arms above your head with a resounding squeak that announced your entrance.

As you push away unruly strands of hair from your face, you rub your cheek, still sheet streaked and warm to the touch.

“G’morin’ (Y/N).” Peter greeted through a mouth full of milk soaked Sugar Crisp.

“Morning, love.” You replied, placing your hands on his bare shoulders and pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

You let your hands linger on his skin a moment longer before you stepped around him and to the pantry.

“Good morning,” Roman called after you as he watched appreciatively as the hem of your short negligee dusted the tops of your thighs.

You acknowledged him with a hum, but gave him no further greeting. No good morning, no kiss, no smile. Just a hum as you rummaged around searching for your box of oatmeal.

Roman hadn’t come to bed until just before dawn the previous night, only furthering the animosity you felt for him. The new, deep and unrelenting displeasure you held for him now that he had let another woman into your home.

“What? Peter gets a fucking endearment and I don’t get anything?” Roman griped. His voice grated on your ear drums and his angry breathing only served to churn your disdain for him.

You kept mute, clenching your teeth as you gathered a bowl and some milk to make your morning oats.

You pictured turning around to spit in his face, and how it would feel to watch his reaction as your saliva splattered his skin. You’d then tell him to go fuck himself, maybe break a glass while you were at it, anything to get his attention. Or maybe you’d go hop on Peter’s lap, place his hands on your bare thighs and stick your tongue down his throat. That was probably better than any tantrum you could throw. Your boyfriend was nothing if not possessive of what he deemed as his. You fell under that laundry list of Roman’s possessions, though you were unsure if you were soon to be erased and replaced with five new letters.

Because it had been a little over a week since Annie had taken residence in the second guest bedroom. A fucking week of seeing her and Roman eye fuck each other and share whispered conversations. A week of her connecting with Roman on a level you couldn’t understand, of being a part of schemes, of helping him and Peter (something you were never allowed to do) and talking about Nadia. You’re fucking daughter. You swore the next time her mouth began to form the syllables to the child’s name, you were going to strangle her to death. Upir or not, you were sure your pure maternal rage would be no match for her.

And, it had been a goddamn week of you sulking and pouting and seething without Roman taking even the slightest notice, or if he did, not caring a bit. That, more than anything else, is what was truly making you irate.

“(Y/N)? What the hell?” Roman cursed again as you slammed dishes around in cabinets.

Before he could say anything else, another pair of footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Good morning!” Came her happy french lit as she bounded toward the three of you.

You didn’t acknowledge her presence, simply continued on with your oatmeal.

“I still haven’t gotten over the water pressure here. It’s so wonderful,” Annie says, and you’re sure Roman is half hard at her stupid compliment.

You still haven’t looked at her, but you’re picturing her with damp hair and ruddy cheeks from the hot water. Her face smooth and freckled with youth. Her damp hair turning her already light sleepwear see through and sticky.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Roman chimes and your neck prickles with anger.

The ice he was treading on with you was growing thinner and thinner by the moment. Melting under your fiery ire for his behavior. When he finally fell through, you hoped he’d drown.

“What are you planning on doing today? Do you have work?” Annie asks.

“I do, but do you need me for something?”

You scoff much louder than you had anticipated and you can feel three pairs of eyes on your back. You square your shoulders and turn toward the group, but don’t look at any of them. The stupid Hardy Boys with their brand new Nancy Drew, resigning you to be the villain, you supposed.

You walk around the breakfast bar with purpose, turning your body obnoxiously to avoid touching Annie as you pass. You weren’t close to her as she leaned against the counter, but you wanted her to know just how much you loathed her. So much so, that the idea of touching you made you recoil.

“Uhm, no. I was just making conversation.” She replied, her voice wavering after your subtle outburst.

You held back a pleased expression as you went to the couch, sitting at the farthest corner from the kitchen and taking the throw blanket from the back and wrapping yourself in it. You took your first bite of oatmeal and clinked the spoon loudly back in the bowl in protest.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” You hated how your name sounded so melodic coming off her tongue, “Are you feeling alright?”

You don’t reply, just continued to eat your breakfast, looking straight ahead. The tension was palpable in the room as Annie shifted her feet and waited for your response. You wish she would pick up on your clear animosity toward her and quit trying to engage with you. Her efforts were admirable, you’d admit, but with the way she looked at Roman, and the way she spoke to him, there was absolutely no way she could possibly expect you to indulge her.

You could feel Roman’s glare on you, his green eyes burning holes through the knit throw to sear your skin with displeasure. Peter was still turned toward the island, shoulders tense with discomfort at the scene you were creating. You almost felt sorry for him, it wasn’t his fault Roman was being an oblivious asshole (and that you were retaliating the way you were). He didn’t deserve to be caught in the awkward crossfire. Maybe you would sneak him into a corner and feel him up for a bit? He did deserve some pleasure for living with Roman’s pain (and hey, if it made Roman jealous in the process, that would just be a bonas of your good deed).

Soon, Annie recovered from your echoing silence and moved back to talking with Roman and Peter. You could see her out of the corner of your eye, sleep shorts hanging low on her hips and flimsy white t-shirt you had imagined, dipping down from her relaxed stance, giving both men a perfect view down her top. You didn’t have to be looking at Roman to know he was stealing glances.

You stayed on the couch, trying to eat your breakfast, but the oats were soggy and not as good as when Roman made them with cinnamon and maple sugar. You toyed with the beige mush until Roman announced he was off to The Tower. He gathered his jacket and briefcase before saying goodbye to Peter and Annie.

“I’m leaving,” Roman called over to you.

You kept your vow of silence and pretended to be interested in the curdling food before you.

“Jesus fucking-- fine! Goodbye.” He spat, irritated.

You continued to fold your oatmeal around your bowl until the front door slammed shut and Annie spoke after a moment's pause.

“I think I’ll be off, too. I have some errands to run.” Biding you both a quick adui before she exited the kitchen for the stairs.

You huffed to yourself. She could only stand to be around you and Peter when Roman was in attendance.

“I feel like I’m in a high school cafeteria and Annie just took your seat next to Roman.” Peter joked, having heard your annoyed sound.

“Well, she should know I always have an assigned seat next to him,” You said, setting your bowl on the coffee table and crossing your arms.

“Oh my God, (Y/N)! Do you hear yourself?”

“I do, and I know I sound childish but I’ve lost the will to care.”

You hear Peter sigh, then the sound of him getting up from his stool to come sit next to you.

“What’s next? Are you going to spread a rumor about her to make Roman think she’s icky?”

“Like anything I said could make him stop mooning over her,” You reply with disdain.

“He loves you, you know that. He’ll ask you to prom, buy you the most valentines and all that shit.”

“He has a funny way of showing it.” You pout with a furrow of your brows.

“Have you considered just telling him how you feel about Annie staying here?” Peter asked.

“If he can’t figure out on his own why I’m so angry, it’s not my problem.”

“Do you really think that’s fair?”

“No,” You tighten your arms across your chest, “But it’s not my fault that your gender has no emotional intelligence or inference skills.”

Peter chuckles, “All the more reason to just come out and tell Roman how you’re feeling.”

You roll your eyes and give him a half hearted glare, “Don’t you have a job to be getting too?”

“Yes, but I want to make sure you at least mull over my option first.” He nudges you gently with his knee

You give a small pause before a small smirk breaks out over your lips, “I was actually thinking about making out with you to make him jealous. Would you be willing?”

Peter claps his hands down on his thighs and pushes up from the couch, “And with that, suddenly I’m late.”

“Oh c’mon!” You giggle and get up to follow him, “Not even a little peck? Just put your hand on my ass!”

“I would rather keep all my limbs attached, thank you very much.” Peter says as he trouts up the stairs.

“You’ll like it!” You call up after him with a laugh.

“That was never in question, sweetheart! I just like my head on my shoulder and not on Roman’s mantle.”

“It’s my mantle, too.” You mutter, going up the stairs after him and heading to the master bedroom in hopes of avoiding Annie before she left for the day.

You had taken an angry nap until noon and then went downstairs to your office to get some work done. It was during this time that Jane, Roman’s new housekeeper after Anna, informed you there were some nice cuts of meat that would be going bad soon, and if you’d like it for dinner that evening.

“That sounds wonderful, Jane. Thank you.” You replied, peering at her over your computer screen.

“Would you like to ask Mr. Godfrey if he would like steak for this evening? Or if another night would be better?” Roman was known to work late, so this question wasn’t unreasonable to ask.

“I’d call him and ask, but unfortunately I am about to hop on a conference call and don’t have a spare minute. Would you mind calling to ask?” You asked in your sweetest voice.

“Of course, Ms. (Y/L/N).” Anna gave you a smile before she parted from the room.

You sighed, and went back to your riveting game of solitaire.

That night with burgundy stained lips, you sat at the head of your long dining table waiting for Roman to return for work. The beautiful reclaimed wood table that you had excitedly picked out at an estate sale that you had seen Annie sitting on just two days before. Swinging her legs like a child and eating a peach while letting Roman ogle her as the juice dripped down her flawless skin. You had slammed the front door so hard that the frame shook.

As you guzzled down your third glass of Merlot, Peter kicked your foot. A silent plea to slow down, so this evening didn’t explode with your loose lipped temper. But, you paid him no mind. You mostly just thought about how much you hated Annie for making you hate her. Hate her, and Roman. Because, really, you weren’t one of those women who stewed in jealousy or was in a constant fear of their partner cheating. Maybe that was because Roman had always been clear in his devotions to you. Sure, his eyes would wander when an attractive woman passed, but you knew he never acted on it. You had a trust in him that had never wavered until now.

You didn’t want to be one of those women who hated other women or demonized them for having your boyfriend’s attention. You didn’t want to be the girlfriend that men could point at and make stereotypical remarks about your possessiveness and label you “crazy” because of your actions in this scenario behind the three of you… but you were near the end of your rope and the woman had barely been staying with you two weeks. You were starting to question that unmoving trust you placed in Roman and it made you sick. All you could hope was that you were wrong… or at least that Peter would have told you if something happened between Annie and Roman by now.

Half way through your fourth glass, the front door sounded open and in sauntered Roman, with Annie in tow.

“Nice of you both to join us,” Peter teased, though you saw a split second of panic cross his features. You knew he didn’t want to play into your paranoia and had just done so unwillingly.

“Oh yes, we just happened to run into each other in the driveway,” Annie said, throwing a beaming grin over her shoulder at Roman who offered her a smile.

“How coincidental,” You offered over the rim of your glass.

Everyone in the room darted their gaze to you, clearly surprised that you had decided to end your silent streak.

“Yes, I suppose it was.” Annie replies, her smile still intact, “Now what’s all this then?”

“Jane noticed some food that was going to go bad in the fridge and offered to make a nice meal for us.” You said evenly.

You remembered when us just meant you and Roman.

“How thoughtful,” Annie said, looking to Jane who thanked her quietly.

“Ms. (Y/L/N) was a great help with it as well,” Jane said, opening another bottle of wine as you had almost polished off the one she had originally opened for the evening.

Ms. (Y/L/N). Not Mrs. Godfrey. You were easy to be rid of, exiled at a moments notice.

Jane was been modest. You had sat with her while she cooked and idly chatted, handing her utensils and chopping up garlic, but nothing else. You were sure she was trying to get Roman to take notice of your efforts, which you thought was sweet. You hadn’t come out and explicitly talked about your problems with Roman to Jane, you were sure she had figured it out on her own.

See that Roman? Your housekeeper knows more about what’s wrong than you do!

“Well, thank you, (Y/N). It looks wonderful.” Annie said.

You might have even thanked her through gritted teeth, had Roman not just pulled out a seat for her and gently pushed it back in. Instead, you settled back into your discontented humming and poured what was left of the original bottle of wine into your glass.

Peter could sense your inebriation level bordering on dangerous, so he quickly raised a glass in distraction.

“Let’s make a toast! We don’t get to have such a fancy dinner this often, y’know?” He smiled through his unease, and if you weren’t almost five glasses deep you might have even caught the desperate looks he was throwing you.

The please-for-the-love-of-god-don’t-start-a-fight-with-me-here looks.

“Well, how about to (Y/N) and Jane? For making this feast?” Annie offered, raising her glass to match Peter’s.

“Yes,” Roman said, his voice tight, “To (Y/N). And Jane of course.”

His eyes bore into you, both of you on opposing heads of the table. He raised his wine in the air like he was challenging you to a game you weren’t sure the rules of. You had never felt so uncomfortable in his presence ever before, and suddenly the idea that something was really wrong between the two of you seemed more plausible.

You raise your glass to your honor, but don't cheer’s anyone, just simply place the glass back to your lips.

Everyone then went around dishing out food on their plates and passing bowls to each other. Annie was always sure to pass to Roman first and he was always the first to offer her what he was holding. You felt like you and Peter were intruders on the romantic dinner that you had cooked for them (well, helped cook).

“Oh, I have some of Pryce’s plasma left in the fridge, do you want any?” Roman offered to Annie as she took a dish of mashed potatoes from him.

“If you wouldn’t mind. Thank you,” She accepted his offer so meek and polite you almost gagged.

Maybe this was meant to be? She was the perfect little wife for Roman after all. Sweet, attentive, was just subversive enough to seem interesting, an upir. The latter was likely the best contender for why Roman would be kicking you to the curb soon. It made sense, they were the same and she was new. And don’t all men want some new pussy after a while? You were no stranger to Roman’s reputation, and you had been reminded by many a peer of his serial adultery in the past… you had just hoped he’d outgrown it when he fell in love with you.

Roman came back with the plasma and leaned over Annie’s shoulder to fill her glass. You heard her take a sharp intake of breath at his closeness and watched as she glanced up at his face, which was mere inches from her own.

You ground your knife hard into the porcelain of your plate, and the sound broke her from her Godfrey trance. You pretend nothing happened and put a green bean in your mouth.

You tuned out the table’s conversations about their days and recent events, feeling isolated and somber. The wine was no doubt contributing to your sadness, but the residual feelings of neglect and rejection were getting to you. Because if Roman really cared, wouldn’t he have pulled you aside by now and just asked you if you were alright? Why you had been avoiding him, why you wouldn’t kiss him goodnight or good morning? Or did he just truly not care at all? Had you been replaced so easily?

You continued to sulk and play over a fictional break up in your head when a topic caught your attention.

“Any news on Nadia?” Annie asked as she swallowed a piece of bread.

Not the baby. Not your baby. Not the child. But Nadia. This woman who was trying to usurp your place in Roman’s life while you were still very present, had just again spoken your daughter's name. Like she had the fucking right.

Before Roman could answer, you pushed up from your seat, again causing all eyes to attach to you. You walked over to the fridge and obtained an old bottle of steak sauce (that you didn’t even want, you were just angry) and returned back to the table with a scowl.

And it seemed this most recent outburst was Roman’s tipping point.

“What the fuck is up with you?” He bellowed, throwing his hand in the air with similar fervor.

“Nothing.” You replied with a snap.

“Sure as shit fooled me! Because you’ve been acting like a fucking brat for the past week. So, why don’t you share with the class what’s on your mind, hmm?” Roman leaned back in his seat and dramatically gestured for you to speak.

“You wanna know my problem, Roman?” You bit out.

Peter was likely already planning his escape.

“That’s what I said.”

“My problem is that if you bring one more whore into this house, it’s gonna start to feel like a brothel. And I am far too young to be a madam.”

And there it was. Grievances were now aired, and unfortunately in front of your two house guests.

Roman’s jaw tensed and flexed as he stared you down, “Peter. Annie. Would you excuse us?”

Both stood without any more prompting and scurried to the stairwell as you and Roman continued to glare at each other in silence. When you heard the twin sounds of doors shutting, Roman finally spoke.

“So you’ve been a fucking nightmare because Annie is staying here? Are you kidding?” He scoffed.

“Don’t belittle me,” You ran a hand through your hair and looked away from his piercing gaze.

“What? Like you just did to Annie?” He motioned to where she had sat.

“Oh,” You mock, “Roman, her knight in shining armour. I’m sure it’s hard to save her when you’re up on your high horse.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“I’m talking about this fucking obsession you have with this woman! This obsession your culviating right under my nose and in my home.”

“Are you fucking serious?” He spits.

“Yes, I am. And don’t play so god damn naive. If the roles were reversed, you would have thrown a fit by now! Fuck, a fit! Fuck any amount of tantrums I could even begin to think of throwing! You would have murdered someone by now.” You seethed.

Roman looked at you with a bewildered expression, his eyes bugging and his mouth agape, stuttering for words, “So, you’ve really just been jealous? Fucking Christ!”

“Like you wouldn’t be if the tables were turned.”

“Fuck off about if the tables were turned. We’re talking about you, not me.”

“No! We are talking about you, Roman. This is just as much about you as it is me.” You shout, “And it has everything to do with the tables being turned. Because if I invited a man to stay in this house -- our house -- and all he ever did was fawn over me and I batted my eyelashes at him and giggled at everything he said while in nothing but a towel you would give yourself an aneurysm.”

“Stop changing the subject,” Roman snarled.

“Can you tell me with absolute and utter certainty that if I offered some guy a room, then spent all my time with him, had little inside jokes with him and touched him, you wouldn’t be angry?”

Roman doesn’t respond, just resets his jaw.

“So, if this man told me how beautiful I was, flirted with me and would never shut up about how similar we were, you wouldn’t be mad?” Roman just clenched.

“What if you started to suspect that I was fucking him, huh? What if you started to think about him inside me? Kissing me? Making me cum? Making me--”

Roman’s fist connecting with the tabletop cut you off.

“Enough! You win, OK? I would hate it, alright? I’d fucking kill him.”

“Thank you! That’s all I wanted. I just wanted you to see my side of this fucking story. Why I have been so mad.” You deflate against your chair, though you know this fight is far from over.

“And you didn’t just tell me, why?” Roman inquires.

“Because you should have known! I know that sounds ridiculous and I can see you rolling your eyes, but you should have known that I was upset and asked me what was wrong.” You said, tears bubbling up, causing your throat to constrict.

“I did ask you! I asked you this morning.”

“Yeah, in front of fucking Peter. Like I was going to tell you then… and you didn’t even mean it when you asked. If I would have told you, you would’ve just yelled at me and made me seem like I was crazy. I wasn’t going to open up to you when I already thought you thought I was being stupid.”

“You thought that I thought? Jesus… I have no idea what you want from me…” Roman sighs, reaching around the back of his chair to retrieve his cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

“I want you to hear me when I say that having Annie here, a woman who so clearly wants to fuck you, bothers me. A woman who you are clearly attracted to, a woman who is clearly attracted to you. It hurts me that you’re letting her stay here, especially when you didn’t even ask me if she could.” You were barely holding off the overflow of tears from your eyes at this point and you knew the second you started to cry this would all be over. Because you would start to blubber and Roman would get irritated that you couldn’t get a word out.

“Let me get this straight: I’m attracted to Annie, she’s attracted to me? So I’m going to have sex with her? And what? Leave you? Is that right?” Roman puffs around his cigarette, the condescension in his tone unbearable.

And your dam broke, the tears threatening to breach your lash line were flowing freely now. Why Roman wasn’t able to just see that something was hurting you and help change, was beyond you. You decided right then and there that you refused to let him have the satisfaction of watching you cry. You were done, for an unforeseeable amount of time.

“You’re so fucking mean.”

You sucked your teeth loudly before pushing up from your seat and heading for the front door.

“C’mon, what are you doing now?” Roman groaned, turning to watch you leave over his shoulder.

“I’m done. I’m going to Destiny’s.” You said curtly, taking your purse and keys from the hook in the entryway.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. I’m done, Roman.” You slung your purse of your shoulder and clutched your keys tight.

“What for tonight or forever?” He asked like he was calling your bluff.

“If you can’t understand why I am so hurt, then I don’t know. Maybe forever.��

“Hey, woah, what?” Roman’s voice was startled as he got up from his seat and rushed to the door, “No, you aren’t leaving. This conversation isn’t over.”

He planted a large hand on the door handle, preventing you from opening it. You could feel his hulking figure behind you and you wanted to shrink under his size, but stayed strong.

“Roman, move your hand.”

“You’re not fucking leaving. Let’s just talk this out, OK?” He bargained.

You tried to pry Roman’s long fingers from the handle, but even with all your might working to untangle their hold, he was just too strong.

“I’ll listen, OK? I’m sorry, just let’s talk. Let’s talk about this.” His knuckles were turning white below you. You could see his bones threatening to break the surface of his reddening skin.

“Are you going to listen to me, or just dismiss and make fun of me? Because if you do Roman, I’ll just go out the back door.”

“I will. Promise.” He sounded sincere. Maybe now that he knew you were serious, he was more receptive to what you had to say.

You turned to press your back to the door and look up at him. The fear on his face was surprising to you. You hadn’t expected him to be so scared at the prospect of your leaving, he sure hadn’t cared that you were around since Annie arrived.

“I’m mad at you.” You stated frankly.

“Yeah, I caught that.” He sighs.

“I don’t like how you act around Annie. It’s disrespectful to me. I’m not a woman who cares when you look, but when you start to flirt and threaten to touch? I’m done, Roman. I’m not kidding.” You raised your eyebrows as Roman listened intently.

“I never touched.” He swore.

“Yes, but you’ve flirted and “innocently” touched. Flirted, touched and now you are starting to look at her like you looked at me.”

“I have never looked at her the way I look at you.”

You scoffed, then pantomimed his love lorn expression for him, clasping your hands over your heart theatrically.

He just rolled his eyes, “I’ve never looked at Annie like that.”

“Trust me, you have.” You say, ducking under his outstretched arm to walk back to the kitchen.

“Baby…”

“Don’t baby me, I’m still pissed.” You started to gather the abandoned plates to put in the sink for Jane.

“Then what can I do, huh? How do we work this out?” He asks, running a hand through his hair.

“Let me just ask you something,” You abruptly turn from the sink to face him, “Do you want to fuck her?”

Roman sucks in a deep intake of breath and opens his mouth, but closes it just as quickly.

Your tears threaten once more. You already knew his answer was yes, though all but hearing him say it was worse.

“Ok, let me ask you something else. Have you slept with her?”

“No! Absolutely not, baby. Never.” Roman said, taking a step toward you.

“And why should I believe you when I know that you want to have sex with her? Hm?” You crossed your arms.

“Because you know I love you. Because you know that I can’t even stomach the idea of my life without you,” Roman says, his tone frighteningly serious.

You look at him for a long moment, his eyes pleading for you to speak while you collected what you wanted to say next.

“Do you want to leave me for her?” You finally said, trying your best to sound collected.

“Baby, hey--”

“No, just listen Roman,” You took a breath, “Because, you know, if you wanna be with her, be with her. Just do it. Don’t string me along because you’re scared of losing more people. Because I get it, I mean I do. She’s an upir, you’re an upir... You have shared experience and she can teach you about what you are and just… Roman if you leave me just don’t be a pussy and cheat on me. Just break up with me.”

Roman looked at you bewildered and once again stammered for his words. For a moment, you were planning on looking at the price of U-Hauls; on how long you could stay with Destiny before you were intruding; if you would stay in Hemlock Grove because it was less expensive or just go straight to shopping for places in Philly?

But Roman doesn’t sigh and tell you it’s over. He doesn’t let you down easy or even scream and stomp his feet.

He just says:

“I love you more than I have loved anyone in my entire life. Family, friends, whatever. It doesn’t matter because you win. You always win. I’m not breaking up with you, alright? Jesus fucking Christ, nothing sounds worse to me than that.” Roman takes a long stride toward you to look soulfully into your eyes.

“Yeah, I think Annie’s hot and yes, she’s an upir. So fucking what? I’m not going to leave you because of that! I could give a shit about either of those things when you’re right under my nose.”

Your pick at your nail polish as you listen to him, feeling embarrassed. But Roman doesn’t let you wallow as he tilts you by the chin to look at him.

“I should’ve asked you if she could stay, I’ll admit that. I shouldn’t have been so chummy with her, either. And yeah, I probably should’ve just asked you why you were being so fucking moody. But you should have told me what was wrong without pouting.”

“I just wanted you to come to me and ask… for some reason I convinced myself if you asked me what was wrong, it was a sign that you still loved me.” Saying it out loud made your face heat uncomfortably.

“I love you, but that has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Roman chuckles.

“Don’t be rude,” You huff, pushing him gently by the shoulder, “Letting another random woman stay here was the real stupid thing.”

“How about we call it a draw?”

“I think I can handle that…”

“Ok, then it’s a deal. I’m sorry, you’re sorry, it’s all good.” Roman pinches your chin lightly to hold your face in place to place a soft kiss to your lips.

You hadn’t kissed him in days, and the feeling made you whimper.

“Is there anything else you need to get off your chest crazy lady?” Roman asks, his breath dusting your mouth with a smirk on his face.

You push him again, with more strength this time.

“I don’t like when Annie mentions Nadia. She is our daughter and hearing that woman say her name makes me go into like, hyper lioness mode and all I think about is punching her.”

Roman’s eyes widened.

“I do not need another woman sticking her nose in our business with our daughter. May I remind you that’s how we got into this whole mess in the first place?”

Roman sucks in a deep breath through his nose, “That’s fair.”

“I already miss her, I don’t need some woman who’s trying to hop on my boyfriend’s cock talking about her.” You were starting to get angry again.

And fucking Roman, he just smiles.

“Hearing you call her our daughter, calling me your boyfriend, all while being on a little jealous rampage? I gotta admit baby, it’s got me hard as a rock.”

“It always comes back to your weird primal possession,” You roll your eyes.

“Eh, you knew that from the beginning.” He shrugs.

“You’re still not totally forgiven, y’know?”

“Yeah? And what do I have to do to get out of the dog house, baby?” His smile turns devious.

“I want Annie out of this house,” You began.

“Done.” Roman cups your face as he started to walk you back toward the counter.

“I don’t want you seeing her without someone else present, or without telling me first. Not because I don’t trust you, but because--”

“--You don’t trust her. Got it,” Roman says, firmly pressing your lower back to the marble slab now.

“You know I have an intuition about these things,” You purse your lips in a pout as Roman begins to trail kisses across your jaw, “You should really be thanking me. I just know Annie’s going to turn out to be bad news. I have a feeling.”

He laughs, “Is there anything else, baby?”

“Yes…” You pause, “I want an inground pool. You promised me one when we moved in and the plans keep getting pushed back. I want to go swimming.”

“I’ll get the plans drawn up tomorrow,” He sucks on your pulse point.

“And you have to buy me as many bikinis as I want, designer ones, and I don’t want to hear one peep out of you about the price.” You crane your neck to give him more access to continue his sweet assault on your skin.

“I’ll leave you with my credit card so you can order as many as you want.”

Roman moves from your neck to look down at you, his cocky persona flickering for a moment so you can see the sweet eyes of a lovesick boy hoping for forgiveness.

“Like I don’t already know the number,” You smile, letting him know that it had been granted.

He groaned, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I love you, too.” And you reached up to kiss him fiercely.

i hope you enjoyed! this was fun to write, i love writing a moody!reader lol. if you did enjoy, let me know with a comment or reblog (: ‘til next time, ily! *lets hope third times the charm and this ends up in the tags lol

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maeiso-trash · 3 years

Text

Perfection shatters like glass

Isogai is only perfect because he has to be, not because he wants to be.

A bit of character study(?) and making Isogai cry lol.

Word count: 2,925

Ao3

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The soft glow of the sunlight filtered in through the window, casting a yellow hue inside the living room. Books lay scattered on the table, disorderly stacked. Maehara sat on one end of the couch, observing Isogai, who was positioned at the opposite end, head buried in a book. He observed how delicately Isogai handled the pages, admired how focused he was, golden eyes fixated on the story in front of him. His expressions constantly changed as he read, and Maehara could only assume he was mirroring the character’s emotions. How cute. Makes him want to call Isogai something equally adorable.

"Hey, can I call you darling?” Maehara asked, his head in the clouds, a dumb grin on his face.

"I dunno, try it out," Isogai replied, not bothering to look up from his book. He felt the couch sink next to him as Maehara sat beside him.

"Okay, darling." Maehara's gaze softened, and he felt his heart melt at the taste of the nickname on his tongue. It made him feel old-fashioned, absolutely smitten with his best friend. He stares at Isogai, taking in how his eyes dart up from the book to Maehara, only just processing his words. Maehara chuckles to himself at how cute Isogai's reaction is, albeit delayed. He's way too stupidly in love with his best friend. But he doesn't mind. He admires how the light pouring in from the window makes Isogai's eyes shine. How the curve of his lips tugged up just a little. How his eyes gaze back at him, a little surprised. How his antenna sprung up with his emotions before quickly returning to normal.

Isogai felt his heart skip a beat, and butterflies in his stomach. Blush starts to blend into his cheeks, though it's faint. He can't help but smile, giggling a little inside. He rolls his eyes affectionately, used to Maehara's flirts and sweet nothings. Why he puts up with Maehara, he doesn't know. But they've been close since childhood, and understand each other better than anyone else. He doesn't want to lose that bond. "Since when did you become such a romantic?" He half-jokingly asks, putting his book on the table.

Despite their history together, they feel like inexperienced kids, trying to figure out love for the first time. It's just a simple, sweet pet name. A name that kisses the back of one's hand, makes someone feel like they're floating on clouds. It makes one feel warm and fuzzy inside. It's a feeling akin to the aroma of fresh bread, the personal thought of a handwritten letter. It’s watching the rain pelting down gently on the pavement, staring through frosted glass windows with a warm drink in hand. It’s the sun reaching through the windows at dawn, encasing everything in a warm yellow glow when the world hasn't woken up yet.

Maehara slowly wrapped his arms around Isogai's waist, peppering featherlight kisses along his shoulder. "Ever since I fell in love with you, darling." Maehara purposefully says it again, and Isogai can practically hear his smile.

"Pff- stop," Isogai giggled softly, ticklish from the onslaught of kisses. "Th-that tickles."

"Fine, fine. Whatever you say-" Maehara relents, kissing him a final time, "-prince charming."

Ah, that old nickname.

Isogai doesn't really think it suits him.

"Prince charming, huh?" he repeats, testing how the title rolls off his tongue. It's a foreign feeling. He doesn't think he deserves such a fancy title. Maybe he's just being modest. "You of all people should know I'm really not that perfect like others say."

Maehara sighs. Having been best friends with Isogai, he knows there is more to him than his charms. He's seen him frightened, and scared. He's witnessed the forgetful and panicky side of Isogai. He's helped him through his meltdowns when the weight of the world on his shoulders was too much to handle. He's seen him angry, and tired. Although, these aren't really flaws to his character. At least that's what Maehara thinks. He ponders deeper, wondering what exactly his friend's weaknesses are.

Perhaps it's his overly self-sacrificing habits, his selfless acts and priorities. Maybe it's his perfection itself that's his flaw. His own downfall. Maybe it's the outcome of his backstory. The aftermath of the long nights and forced smiles. Taking care of others so much that he forgets to take care of himself. Thinking that he isn't good enough, downplaying his self-worth as he's used to it. He wants everyone else to be happy. He thinks his own opinions don't matter.

No. It can't be that either.

Maehara frowns a bit, and wishes Isogai can realize that he's worthy of the nickname of 'prince charming.' That he's perfect even with imperfections.

"I do know. But you're still perfect to me. I always called you that when we were kids and you never had a problem then."

"Yeah, when we were playing pretend," Isogai says, a hint of nostalgic melancholy in his voice. He misses those days, when he was happier, when everything was simpler and there wasn't much to worry about. When Maehara would make him a flower crown ‘fit for a prince’ and pretend to be his knight. He isn't too sure how the whole prince thing started, or why Maehara would think of him as one. But that was back then, and now they've grown older. Now they have responsibilities and duties to take care of. He can't live in a world of fantasies and reminisce about the past forever. He wishes he could, but he can't, no matter how much he yearns for it. "This is reality, Hiroto. We're not kids anymore."

"Don't wanna believe it," Maehara spat out with a pout. "You just grew up faster because you had to."

Ah.

That came out wrong.

But once the words left his mouth, it left a bitter taste on Maehara’s tongue. His throat goes dry and he regrets it immediately. Maehara never really cared for his responsibilities, choosing to fool around and have fun instead. Isogai didn’t have that luxury.

"Oh, I. . . I see," Isogai trails off, unsure of how to respond. He knows it's the truth, and that Maehara wasn't trying to be mean. Isogai did have to grow up faster than other kids his age. He had to be someone his family could depend on, someone others could rely on. He prioritized others' needs before his own. He still does. He pushes himself a lot and it tears him apart mentally and emotionally. He's tired. He's ‘perfect’ because he has to be. Admittedly, it hurts, not having a normal childhood. Forced into maturing and growing up from a young age. He technically still is a kid, though it doesn't feel like it with the overwhelming weight of the world on his shoulders.

"N-No, Yuuma, I didn't mean. . ." Maehara panics and hugs Isogai just a little bit tighter. He doesn't want to see his best friend cry. Especially because of his own mistake. He would never forgive himself for that. "Sorry." It sounds like a shallow, half-hearted apology, just one measly word. But he can't seem to say anything else. He falls silent and stares blankly at the floor.

Isogai doesn't break away from Maehara's hold. Maehara’s kisses linger on his skin. The feeling is bittersweet. Isogai gets a sense of deja vu, and he remembers the name he was given that day in class when everyone was given codenames. 'President poverty,' they called him. Almost mockingly, like salt being rubbed on the wound. He bites his bottom lip, remembering who gave him the codename in the first place.

Maehara Hiroto, his best friend since childhood, the one who understood him most out of everyone. The one who he shared his secrets with, the one who’s been with him through thick and thin. Thinking about it, it almost feels like a betrayal. He glares at the floor.

"President Poverty," he drawled out, venom injected into each syllable.

"Wh-what?" Maehara questions, confused at the sudden change in Isogai’s tone.

Maehara's ignorance, intentional or not, sends Isogai off the edge. "Are you fucking dumb? Wasn't it your idea to give me that codename? My personality isn't just being perfect and poor, y'know!" He practically hisses, prying himself away from Maehara. Isogai frowns at him, glaring at him through misty tinted eyes, pale golden irises losing their shine. "You’re so mean, Hiroto. It's not like I wished to be born into a poor family, for my dad to die, and for my mom to become ill. I didn't want this. I never wanted all these responsibilities. I never wanted to be perfect." He didn't want to be perfect. He wanted to be a kid again.

"Hey, hey, what's with this all of a sudden?" Because while Maehara knows Isogai well, he can't read his mind, can’t follow the trail of thoughts that lead Isogai to this point.

"You wouldn't understand. You don't have to work your life away just to make sure you survive."

What started from anger turned into tears, and Isogai isn't too sure himself of why he's crying. It just hurts, and he's tired of this life. His life. Overwhelmed with everything, his emotions bottled up only to crash in waves. All his life, other people always reminded him that he was poor. They’d point and laugh at something he couldn’t even control. His financial situation was always their go-to insult. And he’d always brush it off with a forced smile, trying to block the insults from his memory. It always hurt whenever he remembered them.

Maehara never really made fun of him for being poor. Or at least, not until the ‘president poverty’ thing. It hurts now that he’s realized it. Isogai considered Maehara his best friend, and yet, it doesn’t feel like it. But Isogai genuinely can't hate him, and he hates that.

Maehara isn't too sure how to respond, not wanting to make the situation worse, only watching Isogai cry out of supposed anger. Maehara lets Isogai cry, he probably needs it anyway, and decides to talk when he's finished. In the meantime, he reflects on Isogai’s outburst and yeah, maybe he was rather insensitive, unintentional or not.

The air around them is still, the tension thick. Time ticks by, but to them the world doesn't move. They're suffocated by a silence filled with regret. Maehara desperately wants to reach his arms out and envelop Isogai into a tight hug, but he knows him well enough to know the other will only push him away. Out of anger, out of fear, out of pain.

Fights have never happened between the two of them. They were always too understanding for that. Of course, they had their arguments, avoiding the other out of shame and guilt, before making up like friends do, learning from their mistakes, trying to better themselves. But it rarely happens, and sometimes they forget about the silly disagreements. But this argument isn't as silly as which one of them kills the spider or turns the light off before the monster gets them. They know you can't turn back time, hit rewind and start over. So they wallow in the pond of regret and guilt, distant from one another as they try to sort out their thoughts.

Isogai begins to regret saying his thoughts. Perhaps he should've just accepted the nickname of 'prince charming'. Maybe they wouldn't feel so awkward right now. Maybe he wouldn’t be bawling his eyes out, sobbing like the child he never allowed himself to be. Deep down, he knows it isn't selfish to speak out his feelings, tell the truth of his thoughts, but it feels selfish to him. Almost like he’s begging for help, for some sort of comfort when he thinks he doesn't deserve it. He wants to go back to a time where everything isn’t so complicated, when his mom isn’t ill, and his dad isn’t forever gone. He wants to go back to a time when he wasn’t working a part-time job, when smiling wasn’t such a chore that made his cheeks hurt, and when his wrists weren't sore from carrying trays and plates and cups all day. He never wanted these things to mold him into the person he became today, sculpted and shaved down and crafted into perfection.

Although right now, he isn’t so perfect, breaking down in front of his best friend. His eyes all red and puffy and his tears streaming down and into his mouth, his sleeves stained with snot. His throat is hot and sore and he almost chokes on his cries. In a way, he feels relieved, letting everything out. Allowing himself to feel something, to cry, to feel human. Breaking the carefully sculpted character he chiseled himself, the one that adapted and matured to life all too quickly, the one that hid all his flaws and imperfections behind a wall.

He cries and cries until the tears dry out, and in the end he just feels kind of pathetic. He doesn’t say anything, wiping away the last of his tears. Maehara gently rubs a hand on his back, which Isogai doesn’t bother trying to swat away. He’s just tired.

"I'm sorry, really, I am," Maehara says quietly. He feels really bad but he's mostly mad at himself and he should've just kept his mouth shut but he never learns his lesson. "I know about your situation and I didn’t really take your feelings into account. I just thought that a name like that could help you relax a bit and not worry about being perfect all the time. I was uh, very wrong on that. It's unfair that you have all these responsibilities when you never asked for it in the first place. I acted like it was your fault when it never was to begin with. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I'm. . . really sorry."

Maehara wouldn't be surprised if Isogai never forgave him. He's made a lot of mistakes in the past. Way too many, for his liking. Now that he thinks about it, he's done a lot of things he regrets. Mistakes he can't erase, no matter how hard he tries. But he never really confronted his problems, opting to move on and run away instead.

Isogai takes some time to process Maehara's apology, wiping away his tears. He gazes solemnly at Maehara, his eyes all puffy and glassy, and Maehara's heart breaks. Right, he caused that. Maehara feels really guilty, almost wanting Isogai to be mad at him rather than upset. He repeats the word 'sorry' in his head, over and over again.

"Please never call me that again." Isogai doesn’t really know whether to forgive Maehara or not. If he does, it’ll probably take a while. But the request should be a start, he decides.

"You have my word," Maehara mumbles quietly, stretching out his pinky finger.

Isogai interlocks his pinky finger with Maehara and his lips stretch into the faintest smile. “You better keep it,” he laughs weakly. He almost can't tell if it was genuine or not.

"I will. Promise." Maehara began to trace gentle patterns on the back of Isogai’s hand, something he always did when the other was in need of comfort. "Do you miss being a kid again?" It was a genuine question, no ill intentions.

"A little, yeah," Isogai admits. He almost forgot what it was like to be one. To be carefree, unaware of the harsh realities of the world in front of him. He doesn't really mind it, or at least that's what he tells himself.

Unlike him, Maehara hasn't forgotten, and he wiggles his fingers lightly against Isogai's waist in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Isogai stifles a laugh, before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Wa-wait! Stop- Hiroto stop it!"

“You’re as ticklish as ever.” Maehara says with a smirk, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“And you’re as annoying as ever.”

“Hey!” Maehara lightly punched Isogai’s shoulder. And really, he shouldn’t take offense when he insulted his best friend where it hurts most.

Isogai doubles over with a laughing fit, and Maehara is about to ask why until Isogai quickly composes himself and turns back to face him. On his face is a stupid grin as he wipes away a tear. "I love you though.”

Maehara softly glares at him, lips curving into a half-smile, half-frown. "Hmph. I love you too." He gently caressed Isogai’s cheek with his palm. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his expression softening as he gazed adoringly at Isogai. He truly doesn’t know what he did to deserve Isogai. “Could I. . . hug you again?”

Isogai gives him a nod and Maehara practically bursts with happiness as he tackles the other in a hug, pressing their bodies close together. It’s warm. And feels like home.

“It’s okay to let loose sometimes, y'know. I know you have to work because of money issues and you have to take care of your family and all that but you should take care of yourself too. Don’t push yourself too hard, alright? I care about you a lot. Your health and happiness is just as important as everyone else's.”

Isogai is pleasantly taken aback at Maehara's words, and he can't help but smile. He returns Maehara’s hug, wrapping his arms around the other tightly. It's times like these he's glad to have put up with Maehara all these years, happy to have him in his life. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind."

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #hiroto maehara #yuuma isogai #maeiso #my writing #this was actually supposed to be fluff #I derailed so much it turned into angst haha ;-;#this was also an excuse to make Isogai cry #me: I love Isogai he's such a comfort character :)#also me: let's make him cry :))#I also self-projected a bit with the 'he thinks his own opinions don't matter' thing #I'm not good at analysis but I can write characters crying :D

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tpwkjerii · 3 years

Text

a ghost’s melody

searching for a quiet place to study, you stumble across a seemingly abandoned library and recital hall. when you discover that you’re not as alone in there as you thought and begin to fall for the mysterious boy playing the piano, you start to wish you believed in ghosts before.

pairing: ghost!pianist!taehyung x reader

warnings: character death (not main, except for tae who’s already a ghost lol), slight angst, some cursing, kinda heated makeout session, sfw (PG-13)!

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 4.3k+

listen to: claire de lune and adagio for strings

a/n: first fanfic on here lol i hope it isn’t trash & pls enjoy loves!! xx

Kim’s Library and Recital Hall

At least that’s what you thought was written on the battered storefront. The building’s exterior was aged — the faded letters were peeling, the glass windows were dusty with years of negligence, the copper door handle was rusted from the elements, and the black-painted wood was chipping at the corners.

The store was a perfect match amongst the other ones along the deserted street. It was so ordinarily fitting that anyone could have easily passed it. However, it happened to be exactly what you were looking for — a quiet place to study and somewhere to potentially spend the night since your roommate decided to let you know at the last minute that her and her boyfriend would be in your shared dorm for the night.

With a small shrug, you moved towards the door and attempted to push it open. After a fourth push (that was more tiring than you’d like to admit), the old door finally creaked open. Surprisingly, dust didn’t meet your eyes as you thought it would, and with a brief inspection of the interior, you noticed that it was oddly clean — a stark contrast from its outer appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that someone was diligently taking care of this place.

Paying it no mind, you moved further into the old store, basking in the silence and mildly soothing aura. The music-themed decorations and portraits of deceased musicians reminded you of your brother, and the quietness was a peaceful contrast from your hectic dorm (and, somehow, your campus library).

Before choosing a desk to work on, you checked your phone for the time.

4:37 PM

Nice, you thought. You should be able to get a few hours of work in while the sun is still up. Hopefully this place still has electricity or candles laying around. You sat down at a large wooden desk close to the storefront and pulled out your textbooks and papers, slowly beginning your studying.

You studied your notes in pure silence for 15 minutes when you heard a noise, but it was too quiet for you to distinctly make out what it was. It sounded like a scuffle, almost as if someone was walking but stopped abruptly. You turned and looked around carefully — maybe this place wasn’t as abandoned as you thought.

After looking around for a few moments and not noticing anything else, you returned to your books, although you paid much more attention to the pepper spray sitting in the pocket of your bag. Once twenty minutes passed, you slightly relaxed and hoped it was just a rodent. With a heavy sigh, you stood up from the desk and stretched, figuring that you could take a break and walk around.

With your phone in hand (and pepper spray in the other), you walked away from the desk and into a random aisle of books. You explored the various titles, noting that you hardly recognized any of them. It didn’t take long for you to realize this store was probably much older than you thought, considering that the most recent titles and portraits were from the late 1800s.

As you explored more aisles, you kept thinking of your brother and how much he would love this place you found. Yoongi always loved music and he never failed to humbly show off his natural talent at it. He once tried to teach you how to play the piano; unfortunately, you were too impatient and annoyed that you didn’t get it right away to ever succeed.

You were wrapped in your thoughts as you aimlessly walked around, now only thinking about how you would love to show your older brother this place. Suddenly, you found yourself at the entrance of a hall, and you stare in awe at the large grand piano sitting at the end. Despite its old age, it looked incredibly taken care of. The black paint was flawless and shined in the low sunlight, not a single chip in sight, and the ivory keys glimmered. You were about to walk towards the enchanting instrument when you heard the floor creak.

You froze in your tracks. That creak did not sound like a mouse, and you definitely didn’t hear anyone else enter this place after you. You tore your gaze away from the piano and turned around, your hand gripping your pepper spray. Weaving through bookshelves towards the table with your belongings, you cautiously looked for the source of the noise. But just as you turn the corner, you hear a gentle melody ring through the air.

Usually, this is the time where you would run. Or, if you were the character in a horror movie, the audience would be screaming at you to leave the store to avoid a tragic death.

But you didn’t want to run. Not because you found potential death exciting or because you wanted to piss off your imaginary viewers. But because the melody that was playing was the same one your brother spent months playing over and over again to perfect. It became so familiar to you in your home that you always associated it with him.

With a rapidly beating heart, you all but ran back to the empty recital hall. The volume increased as you neared the hall, and you held your breath as you finally approached the open doors.

“Yoon-” your whisper was caught in your throat as you made eye contact with a ghostly man. His face was devoid of any emotion, eyebags dark and defined, skin tone ghostly pallor, and eyes sullen and tainted with agony. Yet, he was beautiful. He had round feline eyes, defined jaw and cheekbones, full lips, and dark hair that fell elegantly on his forehead.

You waited as he continued playing the piece, knowing exactly when the end approached due to months of listening to it courtesy of your older brother. As the mystery man hit the last note, he looked back up at you, shock evident in his features.

“You’re still here?” he asked, his deep voice throwing you off guard.

“Y-yes, I am,” you started, finding yourself extremely nervous in his presence. You awkwardly shuffled your feet as you rambled, “I’m so sorry for intruding. I thought this place was completely abandoned, and I had no idea you were here. I’ll get going, so sorry again.”

With that, you turned to run back to your bag and get out. But he moved and grabbed your wrist at an unnaturally fast pace, and you gasped at how cold his fingers were on your warm skin. Goosebumps prickled along your arm as you looked up at him in shock and confusion.

He let go of you with a sheepish apology. “It’s just… it’s been a while since anyone has come by. You don’t have to leave,” he said, hastily adding, “unless you want to, of course! I cannot force you to stay if you do not wish to.”

A soft smile spread at your lips. This man was not nearly as cold as he looked or felt. His emotionless eyes seemed hopeful and his mouth was fixed in a boxy smile. With hope that this was fate of some sort, you told him, “I would love to stay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Me?” the ghostly man pointed to himself, oddly shocked at the question.

You nodded, adding with a small laugh, “I don’t see anyone else here who could answer my question.”

He breathed out a laugh as he answered, “Taehyung. And you?”

“Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

He grinned at the way you said his name, and continued, “What brings you here, Y/N?”

“Ah,” you nodded and propped your arms up on the table you two were sitting at. “Noisy dorm halls, librarians who don’t care about enforcing quiet rules, and a horny roommate. You?”

His smile grew at your brutally honest answer. He hesitated as he answered, “I live here. I take care of everything.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Your mouth parted. “Are you Kim Taehyung. As in a Kim of Kim’s Library and Recital Hall?” you joked, relieved that he found your reference amusing.

“Yes, I am Kim Taehyung. I’m relieved you find that interesting,” he responded. You grinned at the way he answered, his tone and diction captivatingly formal.

“Well, you’ve done an excellent job maintaining the interior. The outside though… that could use a bit of help,” you admitted honestly, to which he laughed heartily at. “Do you get much business?” you asked cautiously after he stopped laughing.

He shrugged, the same boxy smile still on his face. “Not much, but it’s alright. The silence is peaceful.”

You nodded thoughtfully, sensing there was more to his answer but deciding not to push it. “It is very peaceful here, and if you ever need some help around here, I’ve got more free time than I’d like to admit.”

Taehyung laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll consider it,” he responded genuinely, his voice growing softer for a second. “I’ll have to warn that working here isn’t as great as it may seem. It’s quite boring.”

“Pfft,” you shook your head, “boring? With the piano skills you have? I could spend all day listening to you play while I dust or shit like that.”

He basked in your ability to speak freely and jokingly with him, and at that moment he gathered the courage to ask the question that was lingering on his mind ever since you made eye contact with him.

“Why didn’t you run away when you first saw me?”

Your gaze faltered for a second, but a small smile returned to your face as you answered honestly, “I was going to run, but the piece you were playing reminded me of my brother Yoongi.”

A brief flash of shock passed on his face, luckily unnoticed by you as you continued your story.

“He used to play it so much, and it felt like fate to hear it again in this place,” you paused, looking back up at Taehyung with a sheepish smile and glassy eyes. “You see, as I walked around, I kept on thinking of how much Yoongi would love this place. Books and sheet music and portraits of musicians and silence. It’s just so so perfect for him. But, as much as I want to, I can never show him this place.”

“Why?”

“Yoongi died 3 years ago.”

[you]

goodnight yoongi. sleep well! i know you’ll do great at your performance tomorrow! mom and i will be waiting for you at the end !!

p.s. seokjin is invited to dinner next week ;)

[best/worst brother ever]

goodnight Y/N. thank you :]. treat me to some lamb skewers after?

p.s. you can text him yourself

[you]

of course, anything you want !!

sleep now, it’s already 3 am

p.s. why would i when i have you? :)

[best/worst brother ever]

ok, mom

[you]

>:(

When you turned your phone off to sleep that night, you didn’t realize that would be the last conversation you would ever have with your older brother.

The house was silent when you received the phone call.

Min Yoongi died in an accident on the way to the recital hall. A drunk driver hit his car, killing him and his friend and roommate, Kim Seokjin. The doctors did everything they could, but he suffered from too much blood loss...

You felt empty. Quiet tears escaped you as you sat in the passenger seat while your mother frantically drove to the hospital. The fresh bouquet of flowers you bought early in the morning to congratulate Yoongi on another performance well done was sitting in the backseat, the bright colors mocking your misery. Labored breaths left you as you ran to his hospital room, and you struggled to breathe when you saw his still body on the bed.

The doctor's solemn words drowned in the background as you fell to your knees. Your hands clutched Yoongi’s in hopes that he would reassuringly squeeze them again and wake up to say that it was just an elaborate prank. But he never did.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Taehyung whispered, offering a hand, which you gratefully took.

You shrugged, responding while wiping your wet eyes, “It’s ok. It was 3 years ago, and there’s really nothing to be sorry about. I’m not even sure why I told you.” You spoke honestly, which was odd since you barely knew Taehyung. For some reason, you felt as if you could trust him with anything.

“So what about you?” you asked after a few moments of silence. “Tell me about you. All about Kim Taehyung,” you finished with a gentle smile, your smaller hand still in his larger one.

“Well, I am 25 years old, a pianist as you saw, I grew up on my family’s farm before I moved to the city to study music with my uncle, and I eventually inherited the place we’re currently in,” he answered, his boxy smile growing as he told you more about himself.

“Wow,” you said, shocked at how much he told you despite knowing you for a short period of time. But you technically did the same.

“How did you like growing up on a farm?” you asked curiously, your hand unconsciously tightening your grip on his.

His eyes lit up as he replied, “It was peaceful. I loved the animals and spending time with my grandmother. The village was nice, too. My friends were always a few steps away,” he paused for a moment, “but when I started to play the piano that my uncle gifted me, I found my new passion: music.”

“So you eventually moved to the city to study music?”

He nodded excitedly in confirmation. “It was hard leaving my parents and grandmother,” he added. “But I tried to go back whenever I could.”

“It’s difficult leaving your family,” you agreed, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, Taehyung expertly carried the conversation.

“So Y/N, how old are you?” he asked, his boxy smile not fading for even a second.

You grinned and responded with the same tone he had earlier. “Well, I am 20 years old, I study Literature and Biology at the National University, I grew up in a city with my mom and older brother, and I found this place by complete chance.”

“You’re more interesting than I thought, Y/N,” Taehyung grinned. “And complete chance? What does that mean?”

“Well,” you started, “I was just thinking about how much I hated my roommate and dorm floor, and I somehow stumbled upon this completely deserted street. To be honest, I don’t even know where I am right now. Yet I’m still here talking to you, is that crazy or foolish of me?”

“No.” His left hand reached up to move a strand of hair away from your face. Your breath hitched and body froze as his cool fingers met your warm skin. “It’s not crazy or foolish at all,” he finished.

You melted under his haunting gaze, and you didn’t even notice how the sun had fallen outside and how the lights automatically flickered on.

Five hours.

Or at least it felt like five hours of you and Taehyung simply talking. At this point, you were really hoping he wasn’t planning on murdering you because you honestly have never met a guy this perfect. It seemed like he didn’t have a single flaw!

With each conversation and joking remark, you found yourself moving closer and closer to him until you two were thigh to thigh. Your denim jeans met the expensive material of his trousers, and both of your warm hands were covered by his much colder ones (something you chose to chalk down to iron deficiency or other potential medical conditions).

To merely say you were growing feelings for Taehyung would be an understatement — you were falling in love.

Eventually, he offered to show you around the store, considering you only really looked at the front. His hand around yours, he led you towards the back, where there were less bookshelves and more music-oriented displays. There were encased instruments, very old photos, worn sheet music, and more portraits.

“My uncle loved collecting portraits,” Taehyung said when he caught you staring at one of Jung Hoseok. “He said it was like always having a memory of someone, even if they passed.”

“Your uncle was right. Although I think pictures and a camera may be cheaper,” you teased, unaware of the slightly pained smile on his face. You looked around some more, and your smile fell as your eyes landed on a very familiar-looking portrait.

The curve of his lips, strong jawline, uneven eyelids, defined eyebrows — it was like you were looking directly at him. Your breath hitched as you looked at the inscription below the oil painting.

Kim Taehyung / 1877 - 1902

“Taehyung…” you called. He didn’t respond.

“Taehyung,” you called again, slowly turning around, your eyes meeting his panicked ones. “You… You’re …”

“Dead.”

“What do you mean you’re dead? You’re standing right here! But the portrait. Oh my god. Is this a dream? Have I been dreaming this entire thing? Ghosts aren’t real! Are you a demon? Oh fu -”

“Y/N!” he shouted, his arms wrapping around you to calm you down, his icy skin only further reminding you that a dead man was hugging you.

“You’re so cold! Oh fuck! You’re so cold! I’m so stupid!” you continued panicking, completely unaware of how to deal with this if it really wasn’t a dream.

“Can you please give me a chance to explain?” he asked, his low voice soothing you.

Begrudgingly, you nodded, and melted into his tight grip. It was hard to believe that he was a ghost when you were physically touching him, a complete contradiction of what online conspiracy theories and horror documentaries (and your biology lectures) told you.

“I didn’t lie about anything I told you. I was born in 1877 and I died in 1902. I was poisoned by another musician who grew jealous of my success. I chose to stay in the human realm as a ghost instead of pass on.”

You remained silent, needing a moment to think. Was he telling the truth? But Taehyung didn’t have a reason to lie to you, nor did he have a reason to be honest. And why was he so insistent on explaining himself? Did he have the same feelings as y —

“I’m telling the truth,” he said abruptly, sensing your inner turmoil. “I understand if you do not trust me. It would be hard for anyone living to trust me in this situation, but I want you to know that,” he paused, looking at you with such emotion that it made you want to reach out to him and take all the pain he was feeling away. “That I am being genuine because I care about you the way you care about me.”

You gasped quietly in shock.

“The last living person to enter this place was 60 years ago, and no one ever stayed,” he began sadly. “But then today, you,” he looked down to make eye contact with you, “you came in and you stayed and we talked for hours.”

As much as you wanted to comfort him, you still remained silent.

Taehyung continued, “Even when I was alive, I never encountered anyone who spoke as passionately as you, who was refreshingly honest, or who cared about what I said as much as you do. Y/N, I hope you understand that our time together today has meant the world to me, and I would never betray your trust or presence for anything in the world.

Your eyes teared up at his confession, and you barely managed to whisper, “Today meant a lot to me too.”

Taehyung let out a relieved breath and tightened his hold on you. “I may be a dead man but my feelings for you are true. I hope that you’ll accept me as I am and -”

“Tae-” you attempted to interrupt him, but he cut you off and only tightened the hug.

“And if you do not accept me, I understand,” he finished, his voice strained as he said the last two words.

“Taehyung,” you started, but he interrupted you again.

“Please, if you wish to leave do not say anything else. I fear that I might not be able to take it if you bless me with your voice and presence again just to leave soon after,” he pleaded, his hands gently holding you to his chest as you two still remained in a fond embrace.

“Taehyung,” you started again, feeling his chest tighten as you gently spoke, “Although this is all very hard for me to understand, I do accept you.” He breathed out a sigh of relief. “But,” you said sharply, and he winced at the word, “You need to explain everything for me to truly believe in you. How am I seeing you? How does this all work?”

Begrudgingly, Taehyung released the hug, and looked at you with a cheeky and fond smile. “How are you seeing me? Easy, as a ghost I can choose when I want to be seen,” he paused, “and when I don’t.” As he uttered the last word, his body disappeared in front of your eyes, and a surprised gasp fell from you.

“You! You! What the fuck!” staring as he reappeared, his body once again covering the wall behind him.

He laughed again at your shock, also finding your blunt language endearing. “It’s something all of us ghosts can do,” he said casually while you stood in shock. He continued, “I can also feel sensations like a human when I’m in this form.”

He stepped toward you again, leaving only a few centimeters between your bodies. “For example,” he started, grasping your warm hand and bringing it up to his cheek, “I can feel the warmth of your hands and how they feel on my skin.”

He dropped your hand and bent down, his beautiful face now directly in front of you. For a moment, you two only looked at each other, his strong eyes holding your curious gaze and his cool breath sending a shiver down your body. “And,” he finally said, “I can feel chills as your breath fans across my face.”

He stood fully up again, leaving you both relieved and disappointed. “I can also feel emotions just like I used to when I was alive, although I’m sure you already know that,” he told you, the boxy smile returning to his face. Your heart still recovering from the intense eye contact only a few moments prior, you could only muster a nod in response. “Would you like me to continue?” Taehyung asked.

“No,” you admitted, shocking him as he was ready to explain more.

“No?”

“I believe you, it’s difficult to, but I believe you,” you told him, your voice quiet as you looked up at him fondly. “This is all confusing as fuck, and I really don’t know what the future would look like for us but,” you pause briefly, watching as his smile grew to meet his eyes, “I have feelings for you, and I want to try and make this work.”

Taehyung grinned and wrapped you in a tight hug, the ice cold of his skin no longer sending an unnerving chill down you. He looked down and used his finger to lift your face to look at him. Wordlessly, he closed his eyes and leaned down.

Following his motions, your lips eventually met. Taehyung kissed you with gentle passion, his full lips molding perfectly against yours. His hands moved down to the small of your back, and he pulled you in tighter to deepen the kiss.

This was better than you expected. His cold lips set a fire within you, and the way he moved his lips against yours made you feel as if your chest was going to burst at any second. The moment his lips touched yours, and yours his, you knew that you could never feel anything like it again.

A moment of adrenaline seeped into you as you parted your lips, greedy for more. At this, electricity coursed through you and you felt as if a fire was ignited between you, and as Taehyung deepened the kiss the fire grew, nearly consuming you both whole.

Your lips moved in sync with his for what seemed like an eternity before he broke the kiss, leaving you breathless. He allowed you to catch your breath before he spoke, “I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you enter.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, a teasing tone evident in your words.

“It would be rude of me to walk up to a beautiful stranger and steal a kiss from them,” he answered, his hands moving to play with your fingers.

“I suppose it would be, but I wouldn’t have minded,” you admitted, making deep eye contact with him once again.

Taehyung smiled at your words, and he waited a moment before saying, “I know someone that I think you would be happy to see again. If you feel comfortable with me, I can take you to him.”

Your eyes widened, and at that moment, you could hear the same melody he was playing earlier coming from somewhere deeper in the hall. In that moment, you remember seeing the book that Yoongi had when he first learned the song, and how the composer was named Kim Taehyung.

A tear rolled down your face as you looked up at Taehyung in shock, his confirming nod causing a choked breath to leave you. Yoongi already found this place.

With the brightest smile you’ve had on your face in years, you gently grasped Taehyung’s hand. “I’ve never felt more comfortable in my entire life.”

#kim taehyung #bts #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfction #bts x y/n #bts x reader #min yoongi #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #bts angst #ghost taehyung

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter three: koreatown

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 3.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings: criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: so...as i’m turning this PWP into a P “with” P i actually had to add some plot lol. i really hope you guys like the direction this story is taking and i’m starting to feel a bit more confident about how it’s going to end. but please let me know what you think, hearing from you guys makes my day. i’d love to know if you think the plot is making any sense. i mean, as much sense as a story about jungkook as a super hot criminal robber on the run with a federal agent lover could possibly make, ya know?

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna who’s smut is even better than her art

***********************

A postcard comes in the mail seven weeks after San Juan.

Colorful block letters urge you to VISIT BELIZE over decorative shots of the country’s beautiful beaches and most visited spots.

The only thing that appears to be written on the card is your address. You examine it dozens of times, looking from front to back for any other marking. You come up empty.

There is one unusual thing you notice, though.

The postmark.

Clearly written at the top: Los Angeles 90005.

There’s no way this card was mailed out of Belize and there’s very little chance Jungkook managed to get back inside the country without setting off a thousand alerts on your phone.

You assume he must have routed it through his parents.

You’ve tried so damned hard these past few weeks not to think about what happened in Puerto Rico. You’ve tried to forget the full-body shock you experienced when he asked you to play along with his absurd fantasy. You tell yourself there’s no way he could possibly believe that you would go on the run with him.

But then you remember the look on his face.

Seeing this postcard -- holding it in your hands -- makes San Juan real again. It’s not some bizarre fever dream you had or some figment of your imagination. The emotions it dredges up are uncomfortable to confront.

Is he in trouble? Is he asking for help? What are you supposed to do with this?

Logically, you know there’s nothing you can do.

So you slip the card into your bedside drawer and file the information away in that part of your brain that seems to now be dedicated to thinking about Jungkook Jeon full-time.

************************

Over the next few weeks, two more cards arrive.

Guatemala.

Honduras.

That fake passport Jungkook apparently managed to get his hands on seems to be getting a workout.

Each time a new card comes in the mail -- always postmarked out of LA, the knot in your stomach seems to loosen. He’s still going. He’s not locked away somewhere.

Not yet, anyway.

You try to remind yourself that he’s smart -- really, really smart. He has a knack for staying under the radar. His Spanish is probably pretty decent at this point. He’s making or finding enough money to stay on the move.

Maybe he’s got a plan. Maybe he’s figured something out.

But it’s hard to keep the anxiety at bay. You watch your phone like a hawk, waiting to see an email or text saying he’s been caught. You spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So the cards go into your drawer -- and you get up and get dressed and go into the office every day like you’re not secretly rooting for the criminal so many of your colleagues are looking for.

*************************

The other shoe finally drops when you bump into Agent Novak in the cafeteria one afternoon.

Novak is one of those guys who looks like he’s straight out of central casting on a crime show. He has the appearance of a boxy, overgrown boy. Always dressed in a muted grey suit, always sporting a military-grade short haircut. The only thing that stands out on his completely non-descript face is his big mouth.

And right now you should be very glad for his big, fat mouth.

“You hear about your boy Jeon?” he asks, while piling his plate high with mac and cheese. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end for a moment at the mere mention of Jungkook’s name.

You move down the buffet line next to Novak slowly, the sudden adrenaline rush making your limbs feel weak and loose.

“Jeon?” you ask with feigned nonchalance. “Courthouse Houdini?”

“That’s the one,” Novak says, dropping two huge pieces of fried chicken onto his plate. “My buddy in the Marshals says they’re pretty close to bringing that asshole in,” he continues, adding some crinkle fries into the mix for good measure.

God, you hope he doesn’t have a heart attack before you get all the information you need.

He needs a trough, not a plate.

“Well, it’s about time,” you reply carefully and you hope it sounds convincing. “Where?”

“Central America,” he says, reaching down to his plate to start picking off the crinkle fries one-by-one. “Guatemala or some shit.”

A chill runs up your spine when you think about those postcards in your drawer.

They’re close.

They could be there right now.

He could be in handcuffs again right now.

“Hope they have better luck than I did keeping him nailed down,” you say, willing your voice and face to stay even.

“Oh trust me,” he says, talking around a mouthful of crinkle fry. “They’re going to teach that motherfucker a lesson when they get their hands on him. He won’t be able to walk, much less run.”

You swallow against the bile rising in your throat.

“That’s what he gets, right?”

Novak nods, grabbing for a chicken finger. You cringe when he shoves it into his mouth. Tiny pieces of the breading stick to his lips and you fight the urge to gag.

God, has he always been such a pig?

“Damn straight.”

****************************

You circle the block three times before you feel comfortable enough to park.

The neighborhood is quiet and clean and solidly middle-class. The house you are looking for is neat and well-kept, lawn trimmed and flower beds nicely maintained. It looks like a nice place to live.

You cut the ignition and take a deep breath.

You have to remind yourself that Jungkook is not Al fucking Capone and there’s no reason for the government to have around-the-clock surveillance on his family home. You have to maintain a level head even under this insane set of circumstances.

You try not to think about how furious he would probably be if he knew you were here right now.

Maybe someday he’ll understand why you’re doing this.

Maybe someday you’ll understand why you’re doing this.

You’d worked late at the office, preferring to make this move when the sun went down. You’re glad for the cover of darkness when you step out of your car and knock on the front door at the Jeon family home.

“Can I help you?”

You take a deep breath when Mr. Jeon opens the front door. He has the same kind, handsome face as Jungkook, only his is weathered with age and worry.

“Mr. Jeon, I need to speak with you about your son.”

His eyes widen for a moment. He seems to pull back and assess the way you’re dressed, figures out you’re one of those government-types.

“I’ve already said everything I have to say on the matter,” he says shortly, moving to shut the door.

“Wait, please,” you say urgently. “I’m trying to help him, I swear. I can explain if you let me in.”

He stops for a moment, levels you with a critical look.

“I think he’s in trouble,” you say quietly.

Mr. Jeon sighs heavily before opening the door wide and letting you in.

“I’m sorry to turn up at your home like this,” you say, moving immediately across the living room to close the blinds on all the street-facing windows. “But I’m not sure how much time I have.”

He watches in total silence but you can see he’s unnerved.

“I’m just...being cautious,” you explain, and he nods.

Once you’re satisfied no one can see inside, you start to calm down a bit. Mr. Jeon offers you a seat on the living room couch.

“This is a very strange situation, I know,” you admit.

He remains mute and still, waiting for you to cough up some kind of explanation.

“Do you know who I am?” you ask.

“No.”

His response is clipped and severe and you really can’t blame him.

“Okay,” you say, blowing out a breath. “Yes, I am with the FBI. But I --” you pause for a moment, grasping for a way to explain this bizarre situation. “ -- I know Jungkook. Personally.”

Intimately. Biblically, as they say.

“Okay,” he says cautiously.

“I need you to get in touch with him because I think he’s going to be arrested. Soon.”

Mr. Jeon rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

“I don’t know where he is. And I can’t get in touch with him,” he admits. “He doesn’t want us to know where he is because then you people will have something to hold over us.”

You wince at the venom in that statement.

A faint voice from another room calls out.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Mr. Jeon says.

He leaves you alone on the couch in the family room.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress pants as you take a look around. The decor is soft and welcoming, with a few nods to Korea in the artwork on the walls. It looks like a nice place to grow up, you think. The thought helps calm you.

He reappears after a minute.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says apologetically. “I would really prefer my wife not know about this. This situation has already caused her a lot of pain.”

“Of course -- I understand,” you say quietly. “So you have no way to contact him?”

“No. Not directly.”

“Then I need to know how you contact him indirectly. He’s been sending me postcards somehow. Do you know who could be sending me postcards from him?”

His face falls a bit.

“I shouldn’t say. I’m not trying to get anyone else in trouble.”

You lean forward a bit, fix him with a look that you hope conveys just how sincere you are about trying to help.

“I don’t want anyone else to get in trouble, either. But if you don’t give me that name, I promise you Jungkook will be. Please.”

Mr. Jeon sighs.

*****************************

You pull the brim of your baseball cap low over your eyes and adjust your sunglasses before walking into Min’s Market.

The small, family-owned store is in one of Koreatown’s most populated neighborhoods. You keep your head low as you dodge people on the sidewalk to make your way inside. An electronic chime sounds when you walk in.

The only thing you see in your quick glance around the store is a young man behind the register. He stands when you make eye contact and you take that as the go-ahead to approach.

He’s not a large guy by any means, but he definitely gives off a do not fuck with me vibe. You straighten your spine and get right to the point.

“Are you Yoongi?”

“Nope.”

He’s lying, of course. His eyes are narrowed at you beneath long black fringe bangs and you can’t blame his skepticism given the giant sunglasses and the hat and the workout clothes you’re hiding under. You look like you’re trying way too hard not to be noticed.

“I need to talk to you about Jungkook,” you say anyway.

“Never heard of him.”

Okay, not entirely unexpected. You’d come prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to play ball.

You reach into your bag and pull out the postcards, drop them on the counter in front of him.

“You’ve been sending me these,” you say firmly. “And we need to talk.”

******************************

Yoongi takes you to the tiny office tucked into the back of Min’s Market. The space is cluttered with invoices and notes written in Hangul. There’s a monitor display where he can watch the surveillance cameras at the front of the store.

He motions for you to take a seat on the one small chair he has and opts to lean against the office desk, arms crossed.

“So you’re Carver Street, huh?”

You take your sunglasses off so you can look him in the eye.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re… a Fed.”

He delivers that line with a cynical twist to his mouth that makes you feel self-conscious.

“Yeah.”

“Shit’s wild,” he says, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, wild,” you exhale nervously. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to be involved here any more than you already are, so I’ll just come out with it,” you say. “I need to get in touch with Jungkook.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Look, I don’t know you, okay? Maybe he does, but I don’t. And I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but I’m not going to give you that information.”

You rub at the corners of your temples with your fingers.

“You know he’s been reaching out to me. You know he trusts me.”

Yoongi snickers.

“We haven’t exactly had the chance to catch up over beers since this whole mess started. The only thing I know for sure is that he wants you to get those postcards,” he says.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” you concede. “I’m pretty sure he’s in Honduras right now. And I need you to reach him as fast as you can. Because they are closing in on him and I don’t know how long he’s got.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“Okay. I’ll tell him.”

“How fast can you reach him?”

“Look, I said I’ll tell him, okay?”

You tell yourself to relax before you scare Yoongi off entirely. It looks like his patience with you is already worn thin.

“Okay. Please tell him to try to get to Nicaragua,” you say, careful to keep the agitation from creeping back into your voice. “They have a history of denying extradition requests to the U.S. It could buy us some time to figure out what to do.”

“Us?”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-concealed look of astonishment. You feel the blush that spreads across your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Him,” you correct yourself awkwardly, “it could buy him some time to figure out what to do.”

He grabs a pen and scribbles on a sheet of paper on the desk.

“Nicaragua, okay. Got it.”

“And please -- if you can -- get him this,” you say, handing Yoongi your own slip of paper with a number written on it. “It’s a burner. In case he needs to get in touch.”

Yoongi takes the number from you and nods.

“Alright.”

You stand to leave, knowing you’ve taken as much of his time as you’re allowed.

“One more thing and I promise you’ll never hear from me again,” you say, pointing to the monitor inside the office.

“Delete that,” you say. “Please.”

*************************************

You dig around in your cabinet until you find the wine glass you’re looking for -- the huge one -- and then you reach into the fridge for what’s left of your Sauvignon Blanc and dump it into that glass.

Nothing to do now but hope he gets the message in time.

Nothing to do now but watch your work phone and see if he’s been arrested.

Nothing to do now but watch your burner phone to see if he’s contacted you.

It’s time to admit your nerves are shot. Weeks of heightened anxiety are taking its toll and the past two days have felt like a marathon.

You run a bath -- make sure the water is close to painfully hot before you sink into the tub. Your body feels exhausted but your mind is still racing like you’ve shotgunned a cup of coffee.

You lean your head back against the ledge of the bath and take a long drink of the wine.

What if he makes it to Nicaragua? What does that even mean? You buy a few more weeks of the same on-the-run bullshit and for what?

What is the end game here? And for that matter why on earth are you doing any of this?

You barely know this man. And now it’s starting to feel like you barely know yourself.

Your fingers and toes are pruny and the water is lukewarm at best when you finally crawl out of the tub. You down the rest of your wine, throw a soft t-shirt on and fall into the bed.

All night you toss and turn and when you finally wake it’s like you never slept at all.

****************************

It’s a few days before you see Novak again.

You happen to overhear his obnoxiously loud laugh just outside your office and your entire body jolts to attention.

You jump up from your desk and peer outside.

Novak is busy chatting up a woman who works a few spaces down, no doubt boring her with unwanted banter about his weekend. He happens to look up and you motion for him to come over.

“Hey, yeah, I’ll be right there,” he says, and you head back to your desk on leaden legs.

Maybe he knows something, maybe he doesn’t.

You’ve got to figure out how to walk the line between interested in the search for Jungkook but not too interested. Thankfully, Novak doesn’t strike you as the type to pick up on the subtleties of most interactions. If he was, he’d stop bugging that woman right away.

He knocks loudly on your open door when he finally makes his way over.

“Hey,” he grins widely. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you smile back, feeling a cold panic spread across your chest. Maybe you’re not ready to hear what he has to say.

“I was wondering if your buddies ever caught up to Jeon.”

“Man listen,” Novak says, helping himself to a chair. “You are not going to believe this shit.”

Your fingernails grip your legs underneath the desk, dig painfully into the skin just above your knees through the thin fabric of your pants.

“Did he...get away, again?” you ask, desperate to keep a note of hope out of your voice.

“Yup,” Novak confirms. “Piece of shit cleared out by the time the Marshals they sent down there managed to get to where he was. Some place in Honduras or something.”

Novak shakes his head.

“My buddies are sick of looking for his ass at this point. At some point they’ve got to call it off, right?”

You can barely register a thing he’s saying because oh my god he made it out.

“Wow,” you manage, trying to appear appropriately sympathetic and outraged. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah so,” Novak says, “back to the drawing board on that one, I guess.”

You’re forced to sit through a few more minutes of his blabber and small talk but all you can think about is Jungkook making it out in time. All you can think about is getting back to your house and to that burner phone.

When Novak finally stands to leave, you nearly sigh out loud with relief.

“Hey, good luck to your buddies, yeah? That’s got to be pretty frustrating,” you say, walking him out the door.

“Yeah, I’ll pass the message along,” he says. “I’m sure you’re just as ready as they are to see this guy get what he deserves.”

You smile weakly.

“Oh, definitely.”

***************************

You make a beeline for the ladies room and walk right into a stall.

Once inside, you drop the seat lid and sit on top, desperate for just one moment to be alone with your thoughts.

He made it out. He’s not in custody. Maybe there’s a way to fix this entire mess.

Then you fall apart.

You’ve reached the limit of what you can handle without some kind of emotional release. The panic and the anxiety and the relief and the hope come together and boil over inside you.

The tears start coming and they don’t stop.

You have to flush the toilet three times to cover the sound of your sobs.

***************************

You race home from the office and practically dive for the burner phone in your nightstand. The entire drive back, you’ve told yourself not to expect a message.

It’s entirely possible he doesn’t want to contact you.

It’s entirely possible that he doesn’t have anything to say to you after the way you left things in San Juan. You tell yourself to be ready to see absolutely nothing when you check the burner.

But when you do unlock the phone, you find a waiting text. You steel yourself for what he has to say.

nicaragua is boring [ 3:15 PM ]

send nudes [ 3:15 PM ]

You laugh.

You laugh for so hard and so long your tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You laugh until your sides start to hurt from the absolute absurdity.

It’s so him that you have to laugh.

That night, when you fall into bed you sleep an inky black sleep, without dreams or interruptions.

It’s the best rest you’ve gotten in weeks.

************************

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #btssmut #bts fic

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 4 years

Text

You've Met With A Terrible Fate, Haven't You? || BEN DROWNED

Pairing : Yandere! Ben Drowned X Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst, Yandere

Summary : Appears as a normal dude, but plot twist he's really not.

Wordcount: 4k lol

WARNINGS : This is fic is labeled as Yandere, for those who don't know what it means: "Somebody who is sweet and kind at first glance. But when it comes to their love (crush)they will act obsessive and violent." - Urban dictionary, poorly (but still disgustingly) described dead people, I know Ben originally doesn't kill but in the story he does, idk? Shit written¿

Also disclaimer this is my first time I've tried doing a yandere and it's obviously not my strongest point. Hope you enjoy either way.

You glance at the abandoned game console which your friend had dumped at your place earlier this day.

According to him, something was very, very, wrong with it. The Nintendo 64 was old, of course, but your friend mentioned not being able to pass the boss battle. He mentioned something along the lines of 'it keeps glitching and Link keeps dying'. In other words ' I know you're a hacker and I suck at this game, please hack it for me so I can feel less like a loser'.

You keep writing the email you're supposed to sent to your boss for another thirty minutes, before letting your curiosity lead you.

Before you know it, you've plugged in the old console with more cables than originally planned because of how old it is, and with how modern your tv is. The first odd thing that strikes you is that there's only one account on it, and it's not labeled with your friend's name.

Instead of 'Noah', it's labeled with 'BEN DROWNED' in bold passive aggressive letters.

Simply pushing it to the back of your mind, you start playing.

The second odd thing about the game is that the game has a specific date and it mentions how far BEN, or well, Noah is in the game. Yet when you click it, you have to start all over.

You shrug that off too, simply noting it as the game being old.

Before you know it, several hours pass, and you're finally at the boss battle Noah mentioned. Deciding to see if you can beat it first, you do not plug your laptop in at the Nintendo 64, and opt to play instead.

However just like Noah mentioned, you die as soon as you're close to winning and the game starts glitching.

It takes you barely ten minutes before you're fed up with it, and soon enough you plug your laptop in. You start up some programs and open up a few sites, quickly starting to work. Your fingers glide over the keys of your laptop as you type in the codes in order to hack the game, however after a few minutes, the game starts glitching heavily, and suddenly there's a sentence in bold red letters on the screen of your tv.

' YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT'

It says before the glitching becomes way too much, and some weird kind of red circle appears. Your eyes widen before unplugging the tv and game console, forgetting that your laptop is connected to it.

You miss the small glitches on the laptop screen.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - -

He gritts his teeth as the access to his portal is suddenly denied, the power cut early enough to avoid him.

His red eyes wander in the green coded space, looking for an exit, something that'll make sure he can get his hands on whoever this is. Lucky for him, there's a small white space what'll lead to the outside of it.

Once he's trough, he realizes he's still close to his victim. In fact, he's even closer now.

He smirks as he realizes.

Killing her is fair game now.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - »

You tap your chin as you look as the items on the shelf.

" Should I get the red one or green one?" You mumble to yourself.

" I'd recommend the green one. Green is always better." A voice from behind you startles you.

You whip your head around to look at the stranger who's talking to you.

Behind you is a male you don't recognise from anywhere. And as you start to study him, you realize he's quite handsome. He's got blonde hair, blue eyes and a rosy skin colour. He's wearing black ripped jeans, a dark green shirt, along with a black zip up hoodie, which is left open, he's got a few black ear piercings in his right ear, and has a gold chain around his neck, which disappears beneath his shirt, weighed down by a charm hidden away from your eyes. To top it all of, he's got a matching dark green beanie on top of his messily styled bangs.

" What? Did I say something wrong?" The blonde boy suddenly sweats.

You smile and shake your head.

" No, you didn't. I just tough I was alone here." You smile at him.

ØⱧ ₴₩ɆɆ₮ⱧɆ₳Ɽ₮, ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳VɆ₦'₮ ฿ɆɆ₦ ₳ⱠØ₦Ɇ ₣ØⱤ ₳ VɆⱤɎ ⱠØ₦₲ ₮ł₥Ɇ ₦Ø₩.

" I take that you talk to yourself then?" The male spits at you.

You're not sure if that's meant offensive or not.

" Um, yeah? I tend to do that sometimes yeah." You say, looking down at your hands who're still holding the red silk scarf and green silk scarf.

Đø₦'₮ ฿ɇ ₳₣ɽ₳łđ, ł ₩ø₦'₮ ⱨʉɽ₮ ɏøʉ. Øɽ ₩łⱡⱡ ł?

The unknown male's eyes soften subconsciously, looking at you with an emotion you're not familiar with.

" My name is Ben. What's yours?"

Ben? Haven't you heard that somewhere before?

You smile at him, oblivious to the fact that you're talking to a killer.

" I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you Ben."

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ »

His mind flooded with ideas.

There's so many options on what he can do to her.

Should he mess with her laptop?

Should he just kill her now?

Or should he become closer?

Maybe he should.

He looks at her trough the screen of the laptop, which is almost always open, today not being any different.

He watches her as while she watches something behind the laptop, from the sounds he can hear trough the mic, she's most likely watching tv.

Perhaps he should become closer to her.

Pull her closer only to have her blood staining his hands.

Oh yes, her blood shall soon become his.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦łvɇ₴

She doesn't realize it when her laptop suddenly starts itself up, nor does she know that there's a figure crawling out of it.

He stared at her with deciphering eyes, silently wondering how she isn't dead yet.

If this was anyone else, he'd had them killed already. Their blood would already be staining his face and she would already be screaming in pain and dispair.

Yet here she was, laying peacefully on her bed. Asleep, obviously not dead.

He wonders exactly what he should do next. She doesn't know that he's standing right next to her. It almost makes him laugh.

She doesn't even know that he exists.

She doesn't know that he's here.

He glares at her before moving back into the world of codes and technology.

For now, she lives.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦łvɇ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ

" And then it suddenly started glitching and stuff. Weird isn't it?" You finish off your story as you look at your new friend, Ben.

After meeting in the grocery store, he had suddenly texted you.

Not knowing how he got your number, you got concerned, and asked him. According to him, you had given it to him yourself. At first you didn't believe him, until he told you to check the time of his first message, which somehow was indeed around the same time you were in the grocery store. After that you just shrugged it off as that you forgot it yourself. After all, you knew yourself to be a person with the memory of a goldfish.

Today the two of you met up again, for the fourth time this week.

" Odd indeed. What did you do after that?" Ben asked, acting as if he's interested, even tough he's really not.

" I unplugged it. I think I'm gonna lay off hacking for a while." You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink.

Before he could even think of a response, there was an unknown woman at your table, also holding a cup of coffee.

" Y/N? Long time no see." The new woman greeted you with a smile, sitting down beside you on the booth.

Ben scowled at the newcomer.

Ⱨø₩ đ₳ɽɇ ₴ⱨɇ ₴ł₮ ฿ɇ₴łđɇ ₩ⱨ₳₮'₴ ₥ł₦ɇ ₩ł₮ⱨøʉ₮ ₥ɏ ₱ɇɽ₥ł₴₴łø₦

" Hey, Sara. It's indeed been too long. How are you?" You started chatting with Sara.

Meanwhile Ben's anger only grew.

" My names Ben." Ben suddenly dryly joined your conversation as he slammed his drink down onto the table aggressively, looking straight into Sara's eyes.

" Sorry. Didn't see you there. I'm Sara nice to mee-"

" Yeah, yeah, whatever. Leave. We didn't invite you to come sit with us." Ben spat at her, looking at her with an intense look in his eyes.

Both you and your friend turned to look at him in confusion.

" Is something wrong with me being here? Did I offend you?" Sara asked, genuinely concerned.

Ben was fuming now, on the inside. Who does this girl think she is? First she comes to sit at their table uninvited, then she's capturing the attention of his new favorite plaything, and now she's questioning him? She has to go.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦ŁVɆ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ SᖻSᖶᘿᘻ

He heard her conversation with a male he certainly doesn't know trough her phone, using the microphone without her knowing.

According to what he knows, they're on a date. And according to her contacts, his name is Jaime. He can't find where they met, nor did he know why they met up.

But now that she's checked her reflexion one too many times, and made a pic of her full outfit to send to him, probably to mock him for not having her, ɏɇ₮, he realizes that she's on a date.

After some research by surfing quite literally trough the internet. It turned out this 'Jaime' person was Mexican, and had a soft persona. On his facebook page were pictures where he's working with animals or doing volunteers' work or overall just something where he's helping others. He found the black haired male pathetic, weak even.

In all honesty, even he himself didn't really find him a threat. Not when he looked like that and was overall just kind and bambi looking.

However, all his expectations are thrown out of the window when he hears them say their goodbyes.

" You know, I had a lot of fun tonight. You're really a nice person. In fact, I'd like to go on another date with you again." This voice was definitely that of a male's, probably Jaime.

" I agree. I had a lot of fun too." She said.

₣Ʉ₦? ⱧØ₩ ₵₳₦ Ł₮ ฿Ɇ ₳₦Ɏ ₣Ʉ₦ ₩Ł₮ⱧØɄ₮ ₥Ɇ?

" Good. Do you have a ride or would you like me to drive you home?-" He blocks out the rest of their conversation.

It appears that the good guy needs to go too.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦ŁVɆ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ SᖻSᖶᘿᘻ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ ᑢᓍᘻᕵᒪᘿᖶᘿ - ᓍᕵᘿᘉ ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ∆

" We should spend more time together." Ben says randomly as the two of you snuggle on the couch.

You giggle, your ears tinting red.

" We're already together all the time tough." You tell him softly.

" I know, but still. By the way, did your stupid date reply yet?" He asked, eyes focused on the tv in front of the two of you.

" No, and don't call him stupid." You pout, softly scolding him.

₲ØØĐ

He grins at you with mysterious eyes.

You shrug it off, knowing it's part of him. The two of you have been hanging out for a while now. Almost three months to be precise. And you two have gotten very close. What used to be keeping distance and keeping the line between acquaintances and friends, had turned into friends or something more. You two almost hung out every day, you were basically attached to each other's hip now.

After a few peacefull moments, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Right as you left, your phone rang.

He turned to look at the disturbing sound his eyes widening at the name which is appearing on the screen.

SARA

He stumbled over the couch to pick it up, an unpleasant feeling of suprise rising whitin him.

" Y/N?! You have to listen to me! Ben is not who you think he is! He's this-"

" I'm this what?" Ben smirked.

Damn you were taking a long time in the bathroom, not that he minded.

The other end of the line was dead silent.

" Don't worry. You don't need to say anything. I'll come home soon. And trust me, once I am, you will never be able to speak a word again." He spoke, an eerie calm in his voice.

" Goodbye, Sara." He said before hanging up.

" Sara called?" Your voice suddenly startled him.

" What? Oh, yeah. But she was in a hurry so she said she'd call you later." He smiled innocently.

You nodded and the two of you resumed watching the movie.

" Isn't there a way, that we could spend more time together?" He suddenly wondered out loud.

You sighed and turned to face him.

" I'm sorry Ben, but I have a job and I like spending time with other people too. So I'm afraid not." You told him softly.

An idea coded itself into his mind.

JɄ₴₮ ₮ⱤɄ₴₮ ₥Ɇ, ɎØɄ'ⱠⱠ ฿Ɇ ₥Ł₦Ɇ ₴ØØ₦

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦ŁVɆ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ SᖻSᖶᘿᘻ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ ᑢᓍᘻᕵᒪᘿᖶᘿ - ᓍᕵᘿᘉ ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ∆ - - - ᕲᓍᘺᘉᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ

You sighed in dispair in the night air as you walked home. Once again, you were rejected in a job interview.

A few days ago you were fired from the job you actually liked. You couldn't understand why either. You didn't do anything wrong, you were quite hardworking and always finished the documents in time.

Your supervisor looked afraid, terrified even when he told you to immediately pack your bags and leave, and ever since you just can't seem to get in anywhere. Not even the gas station wanted you in charge.

" Well hello there. What do we have here." A creepy voice suddenly sounded from behind you.

You turned around only to be greeted by a man with a creepy smile and even creepier, eye lid-less eyes. He was holding a knife, making his intentions obvious.

You didn't need to think twice about his intentions and whipped your phone out of your pocket with the intentions to call the cops and running.

The killer sadly isn't stupid, and has you on the ground under him whitin seconds.

Your phone's screen crack and slides to the other side, the dialed number not pressed on call yet.

" Don't cry sweetheart. It doesn't suit your pretty face. Don't fret, I'll make sure, you'll smile forever. " The killer tells you happily.

Both of you don't realize that your phone screen suddenly lights up in a green colour. Nor does either of you realize the figure crawling out of it.

The both of you don't realize, until the killer is off you and tackled down on the ground beside you.

" I've told you before. She's fucking mine. Go bother someone else." Ben's voice sounds suddenly.

You turn your head to look at him.

This time he does not wear jeans and a sweater. No this time, he looks like he came straight out of a... Video game? He looks like Link, the main personage of the game which your friend Noah had dropped off at your place around six months ago.

Ben never told you he was into cosplaying.

Your ears suddenly tinted pink as you realized, he called you his. Suddenly you felt a little giddy, the guy you like so much might actually like you back.

The killer underneath Ben growls out something you can't hear before throwing the shorter off him and leaving.

" Are you okay?" You ask him.

He turns to you with red eyes.

Red. Fucking. Eyes.

And that's not the only thing about his eyes that changed.

Instead of the usual white eyes have, his are now black.

And even there it doesn't end.

There's blood running down his eyes onto his cheeks, as if he's crying blood.

You take a step back.

What the fuck is this?

" Don't be afraid! I know I look a little... Weird, but it's all just part of my..... Cosplay." He explains.

You ponder over it.

He's never gave you a reason to not trust you right? Or did he?

You ignore the instinct to run away from him, instead choosing to calm down and follow your heart, which is telling you to trust him.

" Come with me. You can stay at my place tonight." Ben tells you, holding his hand out to you.

You take it.

₲ØØĐ ⱠŁ₮₮ⱠɆ ₱Ʉ₱₱Ɏ

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦ŁVɆ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ SᖻSᖶᘿᘻ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ ᑢᓍᘻᕵᒪᘿᖶᘿ - ᓍᕵᘿᘉ ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ∆ - - - ᕲᓍᘺᘉᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᕲᓍᘺᘉᒪᓍᗩᕲ ᑢᓍᘻᕵᒪᘿᖶᘿ ›

It took longer than expected to reach his house. The whole road to his house is creepy. Ben appartly lives in this supermodern house in the woods.

Which is off already, the woods are known troughout the whole town as mystery. According to urban legends, there's creatures loving in there who shouldn't exist. Because of that, there's barely any people there. According to Ben, everything is all clear and safe, and you trust him with your heart.

You don't question him after his answer and instead follow him into the,indeed very,modern little house which is situated hidden behind the trees.

You get directly hit in the face with a copper scent as soon as you step foot into his house.

" Would you like something to drink?" He asks you as you enter his house, neither of you bothering to take your shoes off.

" Just water please." You tell him as you study the place.

The inside of the small house is more modern than the outside, with a big living space and an open kitchen. There's also three doors in the hallway.

One to the bathroom, one leading upstairs and one leading into the basement.

" Here you go." Ben returns, handing you a glass of water.

" Thanks, aren't you going to take off your make up and lenses?" You ask him.

His smile fades a bit, and for a moment you think you've accidentally offended him, but he nods with a pout before you can think about it twice.

" Yeah, that's probably a good idea. The livingroom is at the end of this hallway, feel free to make yourself comfortable." He smiles before going upstairs.

You stand still for a moment in the hallway as an eerie feeling suddenly starts crawling up your spine.

You ignore it, and instead start walking towards the livingroom.

Until the sound of something falling reaches your ears.

A sound that is directed from the basement.

Your first idea is to call for Ben, to alert him that you two probably aren't alone.

You don't do that however, because it could just be something falling off a shelf, right?

And so you decide to investigate it yourself.

As soon as you open the door to the basement, you're directly hit in the face with a very prominent copper scent. The same on you already smelled when you entered his house, except it's way too strong and there's something eerily familiar about it which you just can't pinpoint.

You silently push the door open, and turn on the lightswitch to the basement. Behind the door is a stony staircase, the rest of the basement is hidden away behind a wall. Curiosity takes over you, and you make your way downstairs before you can think about it twice.

As soon as you near the bottom, you spot blotches of red. The deep red substance is spread like a trail from he bottom stairs onto the rest of the room.

And then it clicks in your mind. It's blood. That's also the smell in the air. Was the intruder injured?

You step down the stairs while following the blood trail with you eyes.

You stumble back in fear and unpleasant suprise at the sight that greets you.

There's dead people down here. Most of which you don't recognise, but a few you do.

You gasp as you look into a pair of wide blue eyes.

Sara.

She's sitting there, eyes wide open, with cuts all over. There's big ones in her rib case and near her organs, you can even see Intestines spread over the floor.

She's obviously dead.

But how come she's here?

Ben didn't do this? Did he?

Next to her is Jaime, who's eyes are closed but his chest is rising and falling.

He's alive.

You run over to him and shake him awake, not minding the blood that's now on your hands.

" Jaime! Please! Wake up!" You say desperately, tears now escaping your eyes.

" Y/N? Y/N! You have to get out of here. Ben, he's not who you think he is!" He tells you desperately.

" I'm not leaving you! Can you walk?" You ask him trough your tears.

" I'm chipped Y/N, you have to go. Get help. Ben's insane. He's a de-"

" Demon? Mass murderer? Failure? Dead? Is one of those what you wanted to tell her? How dare you lie to her! I'm none of those!" A voice suddenly booms trough the air.

You turn around while starting to shake. Jaime tries to hold you close to him with the little strength he has left. There Ben stands, still with red pupils and black eyes, dried red streaks still on his cheeks.

" Don't fucking touch her." Ben screams angrily, ripping you all but gently away from the male, causing you to tremble against him.

" Don't be afraid my love, he won't touch you again." Ben sushes you.

Is he really thinking that you're afraid of him?

" N-no. Let me go. Do-don't touch me." You tell him, pushing away from him.

He looks confused by your behavior.

" What's wrong baby? Please don't believe whatever lies he told you.-"

" What lies?! That you've killed my friend?! That you've killed these innocent people?! That you've chipped him?!" You yelled.

" They all deserved it Y/N! They're all in the way of our love!" Ben yells back desperately, stepping towards you.

" I don't even know these people!" You say, stepping back into the wall, knocking into a shelf.

You turn around to see what you knocked into.

Wait, is that the Nintendo 64?

" They all stared at you with sick twisted ideas! They really do deserve it." He tells you.

Suddenly it clicks in your mind.

" You're Ben from the game." You state.

He nods.

" Yes bu-"

" How?.."

" You clicked my game onto your computer remember."

" It was you wasn't it? You're the reason I've lost my job. You're the reason my friends all turned their back to me." You wishper, eyes now gathering in your eyes.

You've been so incredibly fucking stupid.

He's the reason your life has turned down the drain.

" Yes. But it's good right. Now we can finally be together." He says like a crazy man in love.

Which he is.

You start sobbing as you fall onto your knees realizing, all these people here. They've all died because of you.

" Hey, don't worry my live. We can now finally be together."

ɎØɄ'VɆ ₥Ɇ₮ ₩Ł₮Ⱨ ₳ ₮ɆⱤⱤŁ฿ⱠɆ ₣₳₮Ɇ, Ⱨ₳VɆ₦'₮ ɎØɄ?

ᘜ ᗩ ᘻ ᘿ ᓍ ᐺ ᘿ ᖇ.

#creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere #angst #creepypasta one shot #jeff the killer #jkjk #first time lol #idkeitherman

189 notes · View notes

highly-flammable · 3 years

Text

Reacting to Legacies 3x03 (SPOILERS):

1. So ARE we FINALLY getting to some proper firstborn Mikaelson witch breakdowns?

2. Oh well, apparently no. They'll just try to wave it off as some one time thing probably.

3. So Hope and Landon are on a break. Okay. TBH watching them sass each other is interesting.

4. The guidance counselor is pretty much a compulsion monster, is that it? Well, I do like his wardrobe.

5. Alyssa's concern for MG is so fake I can't.

6. Nobody other than Jed read for Stefan? THE DISRESPECT.

7. Lizzie playing Caroline makes total sense but them asking Josie to play the lead without even an audition looks a bit bad TBH. Like, give the other interested people a chance, at least.

8. I find it a bit repetitive how there are mind-controlling monsters popping out again and again.

9. So MG is basically going through a phase similar to what Cami was going through when Klaus used to compel her at the beginning of TO. Considering Quincy's fondness for Cami, he must have liked playing that.

10. I understand that Landon is supposed to be a capable songwriter in-universe but it takes more than that to write and direct a musical and it's very weird that they didn't even find a guest star to pose as a Drama or English teacher who is guiding him or something. WHERE ARE ALL THE TEACHERS?

11. I kinda feel like some of the lead characters in this show are colour-coded. I see Hope and Landon in red and blue a lot (the two gowns we have seen Hope wearing also fall into this pattern) and Josie wears yellow in like, every other episode. If I recall correctly, Lizzie wears a lot of white, too. I wonder what the reasoning behind these choices are.

12. Well, I liked Hope and Landon's relationship in S1, I have no idea what was going on with it in S2, and I still don't know what to think about it.

13. Lizzie casts herself in Caroline's role and then chokes at rehearsal. Not totally unrealistic but still feels a bit forced to me. Would have been better if Landon cast her because she's Caroline's daughter and Lizzie was a bit apprehensive in the first place because she didn't want to mess up the role.

14. I appreciate the show taking a moment to talk about Lizzie's bipolar disorder though. It's been a while.

15. "Bonnie just disappears for long periods of time"? Dude, she's still super important and you're putting her in the play. Right? RIGHT?!

16. Landon, THANK YOU for pointing out how weird Caroline and Alaric's relationship was. The guy deadass got engaged to her and had a pissing contest over her with Stefan, that will never not gross me out.

17. So the monster is mind controlling Landon to put Klaus into the play. Saw this coming IG.

18. Hope is painting again, like her dad used to do when he felt things were going out of control. I've been rewatching TO and this is making me so emotional. I MISS KLAUS AND HIS SHENANIGANS. And not a single character on Legacies comes close to Klaus, Elijah and Hayley for me. (Sorry if this hurts anyone's feelings but Legacies really is a downgrade from TVD and TO)

19. Ugh, why would he use the contents of the letter as lyrics? Dude, is it because you're mind-controlled? No, I don't like this. Klaus loved Hope to the ends of the earth and wanted everyone to know but Hope wants to keep things private, and her wishes should have been respected.

20. So apparently Landon tries not to put Klaus' villainous antics into the show. Well, okay, it's definitely a copout but since he is Hope's boyfriend, makes sense. But I don't understand why the musical HAS TO BE about the Salvatore school. The accreditation excuse is lazy, writers! Also, Landon, my dude, Klaus was a major donor of the school. Put that in instead of the other things, stop pissing off your girlfriend FFS. Even if you're mind-controlled 🤦🏻‍♀️

21. I do find it funny how Landon is all gaga over Klaus' use of language though. The guy really did have the best lines, didn't he? (Tied with Elijah, I suppose, for me)

22. The other singers of the first song are really good so Kaylee sounds a bit rusty in comparison. Also, she reminds me too much of Dark!Josie with the hair and makeup. From a distance, she can be mistaken for Nina though.

23. I love that the backstage activities are being shown.

24. I'm digging Jed as Stefan and I really like his singing voice. And the Hero Hair wig cracked me up. Kaleb is obviously good at singing at it's nice to hear more from him. I also like how Chris Lee didn't try to exactly emulate Ian and played Damon how someone who has only heard about him might play him.

25. Is Hope painting herself before the pit or something? Or is this supposed to symbolize her despair at her parents' loss? ALSO, I WANT SOMEONE TO MENTION HAYLEY :( Why is Hayley so ignored?!

26. The same person probably wrote MG's notes and Caroline's letter IRL and therefore, in-universe, MG has Caroline's handwriting and it's funny to me.

27. Jenny sings well, I like it. I don't understand the song though, was Caroline actually ever feeling this insecure? I feel like the song became a lot more about Lizzie than her mother. (It's been forever since I watched TVD, if anyone has yet to guess, I prefer watching TO)

28. The doppelganger thing cracked me up.

29. Wait why did the monster attack Josie?! Ohhhh he's forcing Landon to improvise and put Klaus' song at the end. Well, I guess it makes it seem a bit less like Landon's fault. But would Hope know that?

30. It's hilarious how they lowkey make a call back to Nina leaving TVD and them having to put Elena in a sleep spell though.

31. Landon having a hissy fit is funny to me. Aria needs more comedic scenes.

32. Wait, where did Jade come from? Has she been in the school all these weeks?

33. While the scene seems a bit shabby to me, Klaus talking to Hope reminds me of their scene from TO 4X03. I needed more of Summer Fontana and Joseph Morgan together. Also, the donation did get mentioned, YASSSS. Man did some horrific things but he did fund the school so maybe a little less badmouthing in the presence of his daughter now that you know the story, eh, students?

34. The fact that the guidance counselor actually wore a leather jacket and a henley is cracking me up. It's really bizarre.

35. "Terrible painter" XD Klaus would have eaten you for saying that if he were alive.

36. Um, Hope, wouldn't you ask your family if you are doing enough to make your father proud, instead of this random bloke who supposedly met him once?! Maybe call Freya or Rebekah.

37. Why is this monster being nice to Hope? Doesn't it try to break people up or something? You'd think he'd try to piss her off even more and ruin her relationship with Landon.

38. Stefan was trying to be more like Damon by sacrificing himself? Um, what?

39. Well, this musical at least gave Stefan and Caroline a goodbye scene. I wonder how much the twins remember Stefan, must have been a bit emotional for Lizzie to play that. Jenny's singing was gooood, really liked it.

40. JED WAS GONNA KISS LIZZIE AND I WANTED IT TO HAPPEN. But a forehead kiss does work.

41. Hope's playing Elena now? What?

42. Ngl I want Hope and Jed to be friends. She needs more of a connection to her wolf side. Both of her parents wanted her to be surrounded by wolves and she's barely interacting with the wolves in this show, which always makes me sad.

43. So this monster can also do little spells and move physical objects eh? Whatever, this is random.

44. And this monster brings people back together? Why?

45. So when Hope is singing, is she doing it as Elena or Hope? She came on stage as Elena, but I thought the song is about Hope. So WHAT IS IT?

46. Oh Damon's on stage, so Hope is singing as Elena and it's a call back to the graveyard scene from the TVD finale.

47. Danielle sings pretty well. It's good she decided to perform this time.

48. Okay, that lifting up scene was adorable. I feel like Hope and Landon are at their cutest when they're a bit spontaneous. But she's Elena on stage and it lowkey looks like Landon crashed her romantic scene with Damon to kiss her so I'm cackling.

49. How much older is Jade supposed to be than Josie?

50. So is Josie going to leave the school for a while and that's why Ethan will be back in the picture?

51. Jade used to babysit Josie? Okay, it is hella awkward.

52. Josie why, don't do this, yikes. Kissing her once doesn't make it non-creepy.

53. The Sheriff feels kinda shoehorned to me. Also, I don't care for Matt Davis or his character.

54. So Candice did the voiceover for Caroline's letter. That's nice for the show. I still don't understand why the letter showed up in Hope's fireplace though LOL.

55. This episode should have spent more time exploring the aftermath of the loss of Rafael. The abrupt shift from the last episode wasn't nice.

56. Yeah, kids, talk out your problems, thanks.

57. I feel like Klaus is too much of a controversial figure that Hope's conflict about her father's reputation would be resolved in one day. This is feeling undercooked. Speaking of, when is one of Klaus' or Hayley's enemies coming after Hope, because she did inherit all of them. Would make for better storytelling than this monster of the week nonsense. And yeah, still no mention of Hayley, I hate this.

58. The monster's characterization was really odd to me and I am so tired of this format SMH.

59. So they toyed with MG for weeks to get a vampire for the spell? That sounds like too much effort. There are tons of vampires from Klaus and Rebekah's bloodline, they couldn't find another? Also, I wonder who is the wolf that they will use.

Well, I felt like this episode was mostly okay, but not that well-cooked or epic or whatever. What is horrific is that they didn't show Bonnie, though. They could have at least gotten a female black guest character who is one of the witch students or something. This is very offensive.

Also, I don't think it makes sense for the show to do any more musicals in the future. This ain't Riverdale.

#legacies #legacies cw #hope mikaelson #landon kirby #lizzie saltzman #josie saltzman #kaleb #jed #milton greasley #alyssa chang #jade #klaus mikaelson #hayley marshall #elena gilbert #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #bonnie bennett #caroline forbes #cami o'connell

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zabrak-show · 4 years

Text

The Letter | Maul x Reader

Word count: 1.9k

warnings: fluff, mention of alcohol, nudity, gender neutral reader, adopted children, mention of slavery and trauma, so fluffy and sweet dear god, I hope that it’s not too cliche, sex is suggested, but never explicit.

a/n: I wrote this because I have been really stressed lately and also have baby fever really bad. I have never done a story like this from the reader’s perspective and tbh wasn’t sure if I would ever try, but I figured why not?! I also usually only write angsty things I’ve realized, like even when I think I’m being sweet it still ends on a bad note LOL anyway, I hope someone else enjoys this please leave me hearts and feedbacks. I’m new at this and need validation hahah xoxo

~*~*~*~AU where Maul left Sidious to become a bounty hunter. Y’all lovebirds met and adopted a couple sweetie night brother babies and settle down on Dathomir to live the domestic Star Wars dream.~*~*~*

The hour was late and you were pacing around the large office in your home on Dathomir. The house was everything you could dream of for a home. It was a lovely 3 story, sprawling with more than enough rooms to make everyone happy for your family of 4. You had adopted two night brother children while your husband, Maul, had been on a mission to free them all from a life of slavery and subservience on Dathomir. After peace was established on Dathomir, you decided to settle down here for the kids and it really was a dream come true.

You could not believe this was your life sometimes. Your husband was the most handsome man in the whole galaxy with his crimson skin, sharp facial features, and dramatic black tattoos decorating his entire body. Your two children, Zabrak boys, the older one with orange complexion and the littlest one, yellow, were sound asleep in their rooms above you. The bottom of your long black robe lightly crawled across the cool wooden floor as you made your way around the room, too restless to sleep, too tired to get anything done.

Maul had been gone three months now. He was set to return any day now and you hadn’t heard a word from him in weeks. His work was dangerous as a bounty hunter, but you had full confidence in his abilities. He was the strongest and fiercest person you’d ever met. Of course, around you and the kids was another story, but you knew the way he was raised by Sidious had led him to do some really dark things that made him more than capable of taking care of himself.

Finally, you decided to pour yourself a glass of Tevraki whiskey to help calm your nerves. You sat at the long dark wooden desk at the corner of the room and turned on the green lamp atop its surface. It was Maul’s desk and you usually never sat there to not disturb his things, but you hadn’t gone this long without seeing him since you’d been married and craved any sort of reminder of him. You ran your fingers over all the drawer pulls in a futile attempt to feel him through the things he touched repeatedly every day when he was home, noting where the wood and metal parts of the desk were more worn. You reluctantly pulled open one of the drawers. If there was one thing you weren’t, it was nosy, and you fully trusted and respected your husband’s privacy. It felt like you were being possessed by a hand not your own now opening the top drawer and seeing a small stack of papers. One folded neatly with (y/n) written on it in your husband’s handwriting.

Oh dear, I really shouldn’t

I mean it does have my name on it though…

No, it’s not for me to decide

Just take a small peak…

You were slowly opening the folded paper, despite the argument in your head, your hands had made up their mind and your eyes weren’t going to pretend to look away either.

My Dearest (Y/N),

I will never understand how someone so gorgeous inside and out could love a monster like me. I struggle to understand every day, sometimes I think you’d be better off without me. I am filth compared to your innocence and beauty. I look into our children’s eyes and see the same purity reflecting off their eyes. How lucky they are to have you as a parent, to learn about love, acceptance, and family. All things completely foreign to me until I met you. How can I teach the children these things, when I myself still have so much to learn?

I get so scared, my love. Scared that I won’t be able to protect you all. Scared that I do not deserve this life. Scared that I will somehow hurt you or the children. I had my mind made up that my presence was a downfall to this family and would degrade us all into the grime and dysfunction I know all too well. I fear it is all I know and that I will always be drawn to it like a flii to bantha fodder.

Despite my fears, I can never leave you. I love you too much and I need you now more than ever. I remember once threatening to leave you before because I felt like you were better off without me. You told me that wasn’t my decision to make for you, and I don’t think I ever told you just how much that resonated with me. My whole life has been others’ making decisions for me and me being forced to go along with it. Here I was doing the same thing to you, something I never wanted you to experience. It horrified me and I pledged to do better for you, for myself, for our children.

I am so sorry you fell in love with someone as despicable as me. I wish I were not who I am. Every day I can only try to do my best and show you how much I love you and how much you mean to me. I wish I could give the entire galaxy to you, for us to both rule and unite. I know that is not what you want, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still day dream about it sometimes.

I don’t think I will ever be brave enough to give you this letter, but it has been a good feeling for me to get these feelings out somehow without using violence.

Yours forever and always,

Maul

You held the note to your chest and held back tears, finally succumbing to them and just letting yourself cry. Hot tears rolled down your face, you were overcome with emotion, bursting at the seams with love and saudade. At once, you heard a door creak behind you. You had been so zoned into the letter you had completely lost track of your surroundings. You felt a slight panic at first from the noise, but then figured it may be one of the children up to go to the fresher or ask for a snack. Wiping your eyes, slowly you turned, and saw a tall dark cloaked figure in the doorway to the office. Highlights of ruby red could be seen through the shadows and you knew at once who it was.

“Maul!” you jumped out of the leather office chair like there were springs attached to your feet, entirely forgetting the open letter still sitting on his desk. You ran over to him so fast it felt like you were flying. You wrapped your arms around his neck in a long overdue embrace.

“My love, I am still dirty from my travels, I do not want to get my grime onto your perfect pristine self.” His voice was low and calm, just as you had remembered it and he smelled like blaster fire, ozone, sweat, and petrol.

“Oh I don’t care I missed you too much to ever care about that.” you didn’t let go as you spoke softly into his ear, “I was so worried. I...I thought maybe something had happened.”

He backed away shaking his head looking directly into your eyes with his alluring golden eyes, “No. No my sweets. I will always return to you. Always. No matter what.”

With that he wrapped his hands around your waist so hard it drew the breath from your lungs and he lifted you off the ground walking slowly towards the ‘fresher. You held on tight, not worried about him dropping you, but simply to get closer to your lovelorn partner, drinking in his scent and making a mental note to store away this memory forever in your mind, to get you through future dark days.

He gently sat you atop the counter in the fresher as he began to peel off his bloody, singed, and greasy clothes. You didn’t have the patience to sit and watch so you began to help him, slowly lifting his shirt over his head, examining his gorgeous red skin for more wounds and tracing your hands along the old scars and tattoos that adorned his unique skin. He gently took your hand and held it up to his lips for a small kiss. You smiled sheepishly and he took your face into his calloused and strong hands and looked at you like he needed to study your face for a quiz on all your features.

“I missed you so much,” he said low and gravelly.

“I’m so happy you’re home, Maul.” you turned your cheek to kiss his hand, and he finished undressing to get into the shower. You lost yourself in a daze, watching his hands run soap and water over his naked form to wash off all the debris of his last hunt. You never even had to ask if he was successful anymore, he was always successful.

With a sudden jolt, you remembered you left the letter open on his desk.

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom, sweety.” you winked at him and started to walk out.

“(Y/n), I already know you read the letter you don’t need to try and hide the evidence.” Maul’s bright yellow eyes cut into your soul and you remembered he could read your mind.

“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t read my mind like that.” you pouted.

“Sweets, you left it out on my desk. I saw it when I walked in to hug you. It doesn’t take a mind reader to use context clues.” he laughed and you didn’t even care that he was teasing you, seeing him laugh and smile was the best sight in the galaxy.

“I’m sorry I read it. I..shouldn’t have. I should not have gone through your things, that was wrong.” your eyes got big to show your remorse at the decision. He stayed silent and you panicked at the thought of him being upset with you. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Hmmm… well. You did go through my things without asking. And read a highly classified document, I’m not sure if I can forgive you. I wonder if there’s some way you could make it up to me?” He was now climbing out of the shower and toweling himself off, with a sly smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand to lead him into the bedroom.

His eyes never leave your elegant figure and you slowly begin to undress, dropping your long robe to the bedroom floor, but still wearing your thin black nightie. He delicately throws you on the bed and gets ready to climb on top of you, his own figure still slightly wet from the shower, when a clatter is heard from down the hall. Maul whips his head around to look at the door behind him with his killer instincts, your head peeking out to the side of his.

“Shhh… I think daddy’s home.” a small voice from outside the bedroom followed by a gentle knock at the door. Maul growled so lowly that only you could hear it. Your eyes grew big and you threw your robe at Maul to cover up with as the door handle slowly rotated and two orange and yellow faces peered out from the darkness of the hallway. The sight of Maul excited them beyond measure and they ran to tackle him now wearing your fancy robe. There was nothing but laughter, happy tears, smiles, and warm embraces. It was the most beautiful family moment you could ever think of having in your life and you truly did not want it to end...mostly.

No use in lying to yourself, you could not wait to get Maul all to yourself again for even just a little bit.

***************

tags: @wolfpack-arts-industries99, @pinkiemme

#darth maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #star wars x reader #fluff #domestic af #baby fever #yall i have it so bad rn #fanfic #fan fic author #dathomir #nightbrothers #zabrak #simp for sith #pure fluff #i just needed something nice #bounty hunter #star wars romance

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cuefog · 4 years

Text

tog/khunbam fic rec

this is for @cannottranslate because you asked for it and i am grateful for the excuse to make a fic rec post

i expect this will be a long post so i’ll put it under read ↓

i’ll be leaving my own thoughts and comments under each fic (im sorry in advance for rambling too much)!! if you want the full summary and other info please click on the link provided lol

!!webtoon spoilers beware!!

♡ = one of my favourites

canon timeline

(these will be the ones that are set in the canon world and follow major plot events, even if there some changes in the details and relationships)

♡ deep sea blue by Feyren ♡

please read everything written by feyren!!!! lovely prose, wonderfully written khunbam emotional tension. khun braiding his beautiful hair accompanied by symbolism and perfectly crafted metaphor. bonus earrings.

♡ hollow moons by NoteInABottle ♡

please also read everything by noteinabottle!! equally lovely prose, wonderfully written khunbam emotional tension. khun wearing earrings and giving them to bam, accompanied by lots of symbolism and perfectly crafted metaphor. you could probably consider this a companion fic to feyren’s deep sea blue. both of these fics gave me a Thing for khun’s earrings (>_<;)``

take my hand (take my whole life too) by RadiantAshe

our dear ashe has written lots of great stuff but i think this is my favourite!! so much khunbam softness, very classic s3 vibes <33

Chestnuts at Nighttime by khunfounded (ongoing)

khun with a cat who loves him very much, and vice versa. that’s all the explanation you need. this fic overloads my heart with cute soft fluffy feelings!!! (bonus khun and bam dolls with little hands made of velcro so they can hold each other’s hands (ʘ‿ʘ✿) please i can’t take any more of this, somebody help my heart is gonna explode)

a thousand paths to you by LiannaAila

set during the time of khun’s coma. bam travels to a parallel universe and meets an alive and awake khun. this fic is exactly what it says it is and it’s so lovely <3

oh no he’s hot (and other earth-shattering revelations) by Bird_of_Dreams

tldr; bam being thirsty over khun

khun aguero agnis and his growing competency kink by chuuyaya

tldr; khun being thirsty over bam

motion by smokeandwaves (rated Explicit)

set during hell train, khunbam focused. this one is really popular in the fandom!! it’s well written, and if you consider smut a genre i would say this is the best one in the tog tag. lots of emotions, and a wonderful flow of feeling!! also it has a few sequel fics in the series, ‘obedience’ in particular being all about sub!khun,, which is,, (*ﾉωﾉ)

sometimes when i look into your eyes i pretend you're mine by agueros (minamis)

residents of the tower ship jue viole grace and khun aguero agnis and write fanfiction about them (i love these types of fics lmao)

From: Khun by AngrySheepProject and To you who lies with my heart under the sea by Strawbellie666 (ongoing)

khun messaging bam’s pocket when he thought he was dead in s2

canon divergence + future canonverse

(future fics means it’s set in the future of the current canon, which at the nest arc rn)

♡ A World Without You by Breaking_Formation ♡

this one might be my favourite out of all of them. i know it says major character death but it happens in the beginning and there’s a promised happy ending so don’t worry!!! this one is a beautiful 20k word masterpiece.... seriously..... this fic is set after the nest arc, it has lots of Plot and plays around with the world and the lore of the Tower, so it’s already fascinating that way, but the real heart of the story is in the emotions!! if you love witnessing khun’s endless devotion to bam, this is the fic that shows you that devotion reflected right back at khun. it might bring you to tears :’)

♡ Our Hearts Are Made of Stars by Ruinous ♡ (ongoing)

out of the 5 or so other time travel au fics in the tog fandom, this one is definitely my favourite!! time travel aus are all super fun to read, but this one stood out to me especially because it hits all the right spots!! it’s written well and i love the level of foresight, and the emotions detailed into this, it really feels like the friendships and bonds are at the heart of this story and all the fighting stuff will turn out just fine, and everything will be ok :)

♡ enough by Feyren ♡

future fic, set in a cocktail party on the 87th floor. this is so well written!!!!! again, please just read everything written by feyren. the prose is wonderful and everything going on in this fic feels so well-crafted and carefully executed with just the right amount of subtlety in all the emotions. i think it’s gorgeous.

fire and ice by soundscape (ongoing)

set vaguely in the future. still ongoing, and the story feels like it’s just started, but very intriguing plot!! premise is people trying to separate khun from bam + the team trying to deal with shady fug plots

dig down deep by milkywxy (ongoing)

this one is a plotty one!! diverges from canon at the hidden floor arc. bam decides not to let rachel go with them. im super interested to see where this story goes!!

where the current leaves us by macrauchenia (ongoing)

this one is a Plotty one, still in the early stages of plot development but the premise is super interesting!! basically khun takes bam’s place in the bubble with rachel, during the administrator’s test on the 2nd floor. i’m excited to see where this story goes :D

special mentions for “bam climbs the tower” remix concept fics that you might like to check out (this is for you dango, since you said you like togverse canon divergence :D)

Moonlight by Shadow_to_rant (ongoing, khun meets bam in cave instead of rachel)

Timeless Existence by Jazebeth (Barrattiel) (ongoing, time travel au series)

Second Chance by Shadow_to_rant (ongoing, time travel au)

Never Let You Go by eternus (ongoing, time travel au)

Il Principe by euludey (ongoing, bam with different backstory/origins)

Night Never Falls by TripleTurtles (ongoing, au where rachel doesn’t succeed at pushing bam off the bubble on the 2nd floor)

Child of Arlene by MoodleNoodle (ongoing, bam is adopted by jahad before canon timeline)

♡ the king and his lionheart by chuuyaya ♡

khunbam royalty au with bam as king, khun as a genius war strategist. bonus pda in front of a whole courtroom. what more could you want?? this was soooo satisfying to read, i enjoyed it a lot :D (please also check out chuuyaya’s other fics if you like khunbam aus!!)

if there's anything in this life ive been waiting for (its you) by trueaguero (ongoing)

fascinating au where everyone is outside the tower and the tower is part of history. perhaps you could call this a “post-tower au” ?

if my heart was a house by The_Winged_Warrior

very cute magical fantasy au!! khun runs a potion shop and bam is an adventurer

aus are pretty self explanatory so i’ll put the rest in a list:

you are the magic in me by silverinerivers (ongoing, hogwarts au)

hope and legacy by chuuyaya (figure skating au)

♡ jump then fall (i'll catch you) by agueros (minamis) ♡ (figure skating au, consider it a prequel to ‘hope and legacy’, this is a beautiful 13k-word love letter to figure skating <3)

of social media and turtles by chuuyaya (celeb au with social media bits)

i am the last olympian by argenteas (percy jackson au)

who else is there to love but you? by khuns (college au, very soft pining!!)

Lucky coin by bothersomepotato (ongoing, college business majors au)

Greedy Turtles by Alien_ships (ongoing, on the surface it seems like just a pet shop au but there’s a lot of care and attention paid to the characters and relationship dynamics :D)

and i will come to you at every first snow by aguerobaam (khun is a magical doll in a toy store)

the heart heist by paused (ongoing, cyberpunk au)

khun special category

(it’s all about khun here)

♡ all the blue in the world won’t do, without you by NoteInABottle ♡ (ongoing)

multichapter fic set on khun eduan’s 111th floor!! if you’re too impatient to wait for the khun family arc, you should just read this fic. it’s still ongoing as of the time i made this post but it’s already looking to have all the elements i want out of a khun family arc. it’s written so so well too!! noteinabottle is one of my favourite tog authors :D

Brothers and sisters, I'm an atomic bomb by gleek_runner (ongoing series)

a wonderfully well written series of fics focusing on interactions between members of the khun family!!!! im just a sucker for the khun kids and im always starving for khun family content

He Wonders if He Still Breathes by Chocolatesandblood

khun and ran interactions!!

putting his resolve to the test. by soundscape

khun and hachuling interactions!!

Autumn Angel by XprincessxofxspadesX

khunbam meets maria and a series of complicated and fascinating interactions occurs. this was very nice to read ;w;

#trying to stop myself from regurgitating all of the fics on ao3 here #im holding back i swear #this is such a mortifyingly long post #i think i mightve went overboard #hope this is helpful #tog #khunbam #long post #mine #i'll come back and add to this occasionally maybe

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pekorosu · 4 years

Text

just a lil “if ash lived” headcanon that i need to unload somewhere bc i've been holding it in for a long time

- set within the manga ‘verse

- takes place when ash and eiji are in their early 30s... so around the mid 1990s?

- i don’t get the weird animanga trope where older = longer hair, so they’re gonna look the same... maybe with slightly shorter hair bc they get regular haircuts now

- (note: i've always interpreted long-haired eiji as symbolic of the fact that he couldn't move on from ash’s death)

- ash and eiji will continue living in the states, idk if still in NYC or somewhere else. they’ll move around a lot though.

- ash will mostly remain underground as he had to fake his death after lao’s stab, but he does it in a "hiding in plain sight" kind of way. only a handful of people know he’s still alive.

- ash spends most of his time on the computer, mostly coding, hacking, being a nerd, among other fun stuff.

- he also takes on “jobs” anonymously, and occasionally from max (who’s still into investigative journalism) when he needs info that can only be obtained through Dubious Means.

- i also like to think that ash's a bit of a hacker robin hood lol. but he isn’t doing it purely out of the goodness of his heart, as part of it is a subconscious need to atone for his “sins” and cleanse the gnawing and persistent feeling of shame that gets amplified when he’s around eiji.

- also whatever he’s up to these days would ofc still be Highly Dangerous and Illegal, but it keeps him busy and would sate the part of him that’s still hungry for adrenaline without him having to engage in stuff like active bloodshed or substance abuse. basically that’s how i imagine he’d try to cope with life the only way he knows.

- eiji continues to do photography and other part time gigs bc he does not like the idea of mooching off ash forever, and he slowly makes a name for himself.

- ash and eiji live together but they are NOT together in a romantic sense... not yet >:)

- therefore eiji will probably date other people in the meantime, which gets a little troublesome bc it's not like he can bring them home to where his secret Very Important Friend is secretly hiding.

- ash will maybe have one-night stands every now and then. or not. idk. this isn’t a very important detail.

- anyway there will be lots of clueless but mutual pining :)

- ash especially, is of the opinion that they should start living separately bc someone will eventually track him down, maybe someone who has a past or present grudge on him. combined with his current activities, it’s only a matter of time before eiji would unwittingly get dragged into his problems again.

- eiji is v adamantly against that plan bc he's sorta developed a debilitating sense of paranoia that ash might just get killed somewhere while he’s not looking. not that ash isn’t paranoid either, but his insecurities often tip the scale over to “eiji is safer away from me” than “with me”.

- basically they’re doing their whole “stay. no, leave. no, stay” dance all over again, but like, dragged out over MANY YEARS.

- you thought eiji’s letter would’ve cleared up any crossed wires?

- HELL NO

- like yea, there was probably a beautiful honeymoon period of about a year or two after they reunited, before their respective trauma and issues started creeping in and fucking things up again.

- esp on ash’s end, i think he’d engage in a lot of self-sabotage. and eiji is only human, he has his own limits and baggage too.

- there will be a government conspiracy plotline but on a smaller scale compared to canon that i am unfortunately not knowledgeable enough to worldbuild on, but it will probably have something to do with cybercrime/cyberterrorism/stuff like that bc it needs to tie in with ash's hacking shenanigans.

- i've heard that sing ends up becoming some sorta political big shot in yasha? idk, i haven't read it myself, but since china’s rising status was mentioned in GoL i imagine the plot should relate to that somehow.

- therefore sing would also get to be in this story!

- i guess this means yut-lung would come into the picture at some point as well, and it would be a good opportunity for a redemption arc but i haven’t given it much of a thought bc i’m indifferent to his character orz SORRY.

- look i can’t do plot, but i am basically envisioning a political thriller with a side of slow burn romance (wait, you mean like a rehash of canon?)

- i’m thinking max is the one who kicks off the story by bringing something fishy to ash, and they just end up uncovering more and more and MORE stuff as they keep going.

- so for like 80% of the story, ash and eiji will be separated bc ash will be busy spying or infiltrating something... and being at the center of Plot Things, while max and eiji will be more on the outside dealing with the journalist side of things. i’m fond of max-ash interactions but i’m also REALLY CURIOUS about max-eiji’s dynamic :D

- meanwhile sing will be like, half in and half out i imagine. he's versatile like that lol

- ...i did NOT mean that in a dirty way

- anyway, this will provide ash and eiji ample space to work out their issues separately, as i think living in close quarters for so many years has actually been aggravating them. ofc those issues don’t get 100% resolved by the end, but some time apart from each other to cool off and spend with other people should provide a bit of perspective.

- i want ash to make some NEW FRIENDS (!!!) that are on the same wavelength as him bc there’s only so much that he can tell eiji and i’m sure he gets rather lonely, so there will be OCs that he will meet in the middle of Plot Things.

- ash will get trapped at some point. preferably with sing so they can have a much needed heart-to-heart talk. they’ll have a lot to hash out, ranging from the events in BF, shorter’s and lao’s death, all the way to ash’s love life.

- btw i like the idea of eiji and sing being close drinking buddies who confide in one another but ash is kinda, justalittle, not very happy about that LOL

- i mean, it's not like eiji can confide in ash when ash is the topic at hand, ya get me? as for sing, he’s similar to ash in the sense that they live dangerous lives, so i imagine he just finds it nice to be able to hang out with someone mundane like eiji every now and then.

- not to say that ash and sing aren’t talking to each other at all, but i think they’d have a bit of a rift between them. sing probably does feel some resentment, both at ash for killing lao AND at himself bc he knows deep down that given a choice, he would’ve saved ash over his own brother. ash can sense that tortured vibe, so eiji’s like their middle man. AND THAT’S WHY THEY NEED A HEART-TO-HEART TALK

- (SIDE NOTE: i want akira to have a role in this too. i actually have a separate headcanon that happens prior to this story... kinda like an alternate GoL?

akira goes to the states to visit eiji, but ash is also there, yeah? akira and ash start out sorta prickly with each other bc ash is all weird and standoffish and always cooped up in his room. she probably mistook him as a jobless model mooching off eiji at first since 1) eiji and ibe have never spoken about him back in japan (cuz he’s supposed to be dead), 2) why would eiji be living with some random hot guy? unless they met during one of his photography gigs? right???

and then she ends up witnessing them in the middle of a tiff, which makes her not like ash even more bc HOW DARE HE YELL AT POOR OKUMURA-SAN??? UNGRATEFUL JERK!!!

but over the course of her visit, she snoops around learns a bit about their history and gathers hints as to why their r’ship is kinda strained. also ash and akira somehow end up bonding (reluctantly) over their emotional insecurities and part on a friendly rivalry to win over eiji’s affections (which eiji is completely oblivious to. also akira may have been 100% serious but ash was just jokingly playing along with her (OR WAS HE???)). anyway long story short, ash teaches akira some cool tech/IT stuff along the way so that leads to her gaining an interest in the field.

she won’t be able to do much in this story, but a minor role would be cool :)

^ a lighthearted gyoza-making scene amid all the angst)

- (SIDE NOTE #2: i ALSO want cain to feature in this, but bc canon provided very little bg info on him it’s hard for me to figure out where he’d fit. but i suppose that’s precisely why it would be great to include him, since i can just make up my own backstory! lol. for now, i think he should be connected to one of the new OCs to make him more central to the plot. or heck, he can be involved himself! ...yeah, i’m just salty about how cain was treated more like a convenient plot device compared to the other major side characters. we barely know anything about him even though he was one of ash’s most trusted allies. #caindeservedbetter2k20)

- anyway, back to the main story. ash (and his new "friends") barely escape where they’re held hostage. ash would be rusty with combat now as he’s spent the past few years doing only stealth work and being rather sedentary.

- so there’ll be lotsa old man!ash jokes like them poking fun at him whenever he complains about his back hehe

- when they finally emerge outside they find themselves in the middle of nowhere! they then hijack a passing pickup truck and do a roadtrip back to civilisation. ROAD TRIP FTW

- at this point, quite some time has already passed and ash even has a fuzzy beard and mane and all. he’s standing at the back of the truck with a small smile on his face and the wind blowing in his hair, thinking GONNA GO BACK AND SEE EIJI, MISS HIM LOADS, HELL YEA

- (bonus: this song and this scene is the catalyst for this entire headcanon btw)

(drew this about a year ago. i was trying to imitate the manga’s art style... and the ash i had in my mind was a little different. i’m too lazy to redraw, but he’s fuzzier now okay! MORE FUZZ! like an actual freakin LION!)

- meanwhile, eiji and max will get into some deep shit around this point?

- eiji in the pic above was me imagining that the Bad Guys had tossed some damning evidence (eg. severed body part?) on the ground like “ash’s dead/ash’s in a lot of danger now so hand over all the info u have”

- and eiji and max are like. SHOOKETH

- this would be the 3rd time ash has “died” after all, and as they say... 3rd time's the charm...

- eiji almost gives in, but then max spits in their face like fuck no and then... yeah. they get beat up and taken away or something lol

- EDIT: hmm... what if the Bad Guy is someone IN the government, and he uses his power to get eiji and max arrested for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive (ash). and then ash has to rescue them... JAILBREAK STYLE

- also it might be cool to introduce ash's mom somewhere in this story... maybe SHE'S the villain! mwahaha *drama intensifies*

- anyways they will get saved by ash and gang bc that’s just the way things go, BUT! only on the condition they already made it out at least 80% of the way bc GODDAMN IT👏LET👏EIJI👏BE👏BADASS👏FOR👏ONCE👏

- (that is, after he overcomes the initial shock of ash possibly being dead again... again...... again............)

- there will ofc be moments of “oh my god, you’re okay” "i thought i lost you...!"

- something like this, because one can never have enough cheesy reunion scenes

- this will eventually lead to REVELATIONS (of the romantic kind, yes)

- buuuut they will never say "i love you" directly to each other bc ash is too emotionally constipated and eiji is too japanese. it's okay, they will communicate it through heated stares 👀

- i would love for there to be a scene where they have to be separated again for Plot Reasons and ash sorta hesitantly goes all "...will you wait for me?" as a direct parallel to canon!eiji's "i'll be waiting" and it’s like,

- FINALLY!

- FINALLY!!!!!!!!!! ash has finally allowed himself to ask for this, to let himself want it!

- and eiji would be like OF COURSE I WILL YOU BIG DUMMY, ALWAYS AND FOREVER

- but i think it'd be hilarious if eiji pops up while ash's in the middle of the final showdown and ash's like WTF I TOLD YOU TO WAIT FOR ME and eiji's like I WAS WORRIED OKAY YOU WERE TAKING SO LONG

- idk how this is supposed to end...

- oh wait! since the plot is government-related, maybe Someone will be able to pull strings to wipe out ash’s criminal record (past and present) and give him a brand new 100% legal identity, as thanks for his efforts? or maybe ash (or sing) just does it himself somewhere along the way LOL. anyway, he’ll be able to start over with a fresh clean slate and finally work on recovery FOR REAL NOW. yes this is a happy ending AND it didn’t require him to go to japan /flips off canon

- ...i realise it’s never going to be that simple but W H A T E V E R

- (also they probably will visit japan in the future with that shiny new passport... gotta meet the in-laws and all y’know)

- who do i gotta pay to write this cheesy self-indulgent fic for me

#since tumblr is for talking to myself that is exactly what im gonna do now #a very long self-indulgent post //#banana fish

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from-home · 4 years

Text

𑁍 MARK LEE┊ 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 / one ˎˊ˗

𑁍 summary : the one where mark lee time travels back and forth throughout the past and future with his crush, (y/n) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 pairing : mark lee x older!reader (by like three years lmao) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 word count : 6.7k ˎˊ˗

𑁍 genre : fluff, comedy (i hope??), minimal angst, time travel!au ˎˊ˗

𑁍 warnings : swearing, unrequited love (i know that shit hurts omg), my humour is ass, mark gives me slight second hand embarrassment in this, bad writing??, i gave up like halfway through this lol, first time writing a fic like this pls have mercy, it’s almost 2:30 am i'm too tired to proof read fuck ˎˊ˗

𑁍 a/n : first chapter of my first ever fic on here hehe - idk when the next chapter might come tbh but hopefully i’ll continue this series for my own enjoyment! in the meantime, uni still kicks my ass >:(( but anyway, enjoy and i hope that at least someone will find joy with this! ˎˊ˗

[ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬 : 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝟬 ]

when your pastor dad’s best friend was the biggest nerd in high school and became an eccentric scientist

O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

If he could write like that, maybe Mark wouldn't need to be here in this boring literature class of his. Don't get him wrong, he liked writing, and he liked the way he could express his emotions through a pen and paper. But for the twenty-one-year-old boy who could barely sit still in one place without his mind wandering off into four different dimensions, it was hard to be interested in whatever the professor was rambling on about. Maybe Professor Jung was telling the story of how she met Dylan Thomas' widow's sister's friend's cousin, and how much of an artistic impact it had on her. She had told the story a good three times in the past two months - Mark kept count.

Yeah, writing was fun and all, but literature class specifically was boring and dull to him. "Oh but Mark, why take this course then?" one might ask. But one should also know that it was a necessary course if Mark wanted to earn his oh-so-coveted diploma.

Curse him for majoring in creative writing. His dad always did wonder why writers even bother writing when the bible exists.

But maybe one day, an hour and a half of John Keats would produce him some ideas for a romantic poem that he could write and gift off to his love of seven years... and counting.

(Y/N), the shiniest of all pearls and the most beautiful of all Mona Lisa's, the older woman and her beauty often left Mark stunned and helplessly in love. He first met her when he was fourteen, when she had been introduced as his seventeen-year-old tutor. She was so pretty back then, and still was now. In fact, it was as if she didn't age at all!

Someone who resembled a goddess like (Y/N) deserved only the most romantic of all romantic poems, and Mark Lee made it a mission to be the one to write it for her. He was so helplessly in love with her that he was able to channel his feelings for her into five different written forms: poems, song lyrics, an 'A for effort?' drawing of her, letters, and anonymous blog posts about how "unrequited love hurts".

Sure, those blog posts were anonymous, but as good as Mark thought he was at hiding his feelings for her, everybody in town and their ancestors' spirits knew about the big crush Mark had on her. But no one bothered to tell (Y/N) about her not-so-secret admirer and nobody bothered to let Mark know that his mysterious crush wasn’t as well-kept to himself as he thought it was.

But it was cute. Not the part where Mark slowly died on the inside as each day passed without his feelings being returned (that was pretty sad, everybody acknowledged), but the part where the adoration in his eyes were so clear for (Y/N). Legend went that he held stars in his eyes whenever his gaze rested on the older woman - like, actual stars from the galaxy. Or so the first-hand accounts go.

Mark Lee was a talented and hardworking boy, that much was a shared sentiment by everybody in town. He excelled at all subjects, mowed the lawn twice just because he thought he missed a spot, gave it his all at church every Sunday by rapping and dancing in the name of Jesus Christ until he was reduced to sweat and threatening to rip his dress shirt off - he was a jack of all trades. There were even rumours that whenever it was time for a 'Make a Wish' patient to... make a wish in heaven, he would dress up as Spiderman and visit them in the hospital to make their final dreams come true. So maybe that's why it was so endearing, his one-sided love for his noona. If there was one person who could jump over that hurdle of "just friends" and out of the friend zone, it had to be Mark, the boy who's always gave it his all in everything ever since he moved here from Canada when he was twelve. It was one thing to have this crush that you desperately wanted to be returned, but it was another to have the whole town cheering for you - it said a lot about Mark's character.

Which is why! There was no other perfect test subject for Scientist Kim, the local eccentric scientist who was obsessed with creating his "next big invention". He also happened to be the best friend of the town's pastor (weird combination, everybody knows), courtesy of their high school days and a misunderstanding over a carton of milk. The town's pastor also oh-so-coincidentally happened to be Mark's father, who had lived in Korea for all his life until he moved to Canada so his wife could give birth to baby Mark. He ended up moving back to his hometown, however, thus creating a new relationship between his best friend and son.

Now Scientist Kim - who liked to go by "Cabbage" as a homage to his idol, Charles Babbage - didn’t really care about Mark's painful one-sided love, but he knew the boy could never say no to his father's best friend from high school, so there was no one better to try out his experiments and inventions than Mark. Like, there was literally no one else at all - the whole town swore Cabbage was out of his mind and were still waiting for the day the newspaper would come out with a headline that he's been charged with involuntary manslaughter. Everybody would be disappointed, but not surprised. But such an incident hadn’t happened yet, so for now, Cabbage was still freely working hard everyday to successfully complete and unveil the invention that would propel him to "the front page of every science magazine and a Nobel Prize in Physics".

And it just so happened to be today, October 30th 2020, when Mark received a phone call from his dad's best friend in the middle of class. He was glad he kept his phone on vibrate, but god, was it distracting. To answer or not to? Why now of all times? Right, he forgot that some people don't have anything else to do with their lives other than... creating things that usually end up on fire by the end of it. You know, now that he thought back on it, the last time Mark willingly participated in Cabbage's experiment which involved some tinfoil, antennas, and laser beam machining, it left Mark's right shoe on fire - thank God he had brought a fire extinguisher over to Cabbage’s house with him.

Just that memory alone convinced Mark to ignore the call, nearly forgetting about it once it had stopped ringing if not for the fact he received another call just seconds later. "What is this, an infatuation?" Mark grumbled to himself, before glancing up at the front to see if Professor Jung was distracted enough for him to take this call without her noticing. It didn't help that he sat three rows away from the front. But she still seemed to be rambling on about how much she loved Dylan Thomas' works, and that was a sign for him to accept the call. He kept his voice to a hushed whisper, however, "Hello-"

"Mark! You have to come over!" There was no way Professor Jung did not hear that screech that came from his phone. He glanced up nervously, noticing his classmate's startled gazes on him. But his eyes wandered over to the front, and judging by how Professor Jung was now going on about Dylan Thomas' "attractive appearance", it seemed he was in the safe for now.

"Cabbage, I'm in class, so could you keep it down?" Mark hissed quietly into the phone.

"Right, right, sorry!" While he was still loud even after lowering his voice down, it was more than quiet enough for Professor Jung not to notice, thankfully. "Mark, I've just completed my latest invention. But this isn't just any invention, it's the invention of both my - and everybody's dreams!"

Mark would be mildly curious if not for the fact that Cabbage said that about every invention of his, but he figured that his dad was going to urge him to go anyway, even if Mark didn’t want to. "But he's my best friend, Mark!" Jeez, because how could he possibly say no to the power of friendship?

"Mark? Boy? You still there?" Cabbage’s voice pulled Mark out of his thoughts, and the boy could do nothing but sigh. This was just going to be like every other time - he’d be introduced to some machine that supposedly did one thing, said machine would catch on fire the next minute, and it would all result in Mark going home an hour later.

"Fine, I'll be there. After class in like, half an hour." Mark reassured the scientist, and he swore, he could hear something catching on fire in the background.

"Great!" He then heard rushed footsteps and... a fire extinguisher? "See you then!" And the call ended.

He just couldn’t wait.

When visitors would come to the humble town of Uicheon (의천), located just thirty minutes away by car from the bustling capital city, Seoul, the first thing they would notice was how much the town gave off Suburban American vibes, like walking through a town where the main characters of some random Disney high school movie lived. All single detached houses, varying in style from Country French to Cape Cod with recent contemporary and modern upgrades to those houses by residents who wanted to "spice it up".

Uicheon was a town seen by others where most of the population was upper-middle class. There was nothing wrong with that at all, and actually, the residents of Uicheon were both happy and welcoming of anybody and anyone who stepped foot into town or even took an interest in moving, no matter of their social or economic status.

If anything, the residents of Uicheon - the ones who've lived in the town for longer than ten years at least - were often worried that those who did show interest of moving in inevitably get... scared off. By one particular daunting house.

It was a beautiful town. No seriously, Uicheon had been mentioned on multiple "Top 5 beautiful towns just outside of Seoul that you should visit!" lists published on the internet. And in the beautiful small town where all the houses provide comfort and beauty, surrounded by flowers on nearly every available patch of grass like something straight out of a magazine, there stood a modern house - the only completely modern house in the town - its exterior all... black. Even the big windows were tinted black, and it was obvious that the house stuck out like a sore thumb. Sometimes, the local kids told stories of how the house was abandoned, and was home to a ghost with a vengeful spirit inside who wanted to steal your teeth. The residents of Uicheon had gotten used to the house's presence already, but it didn’t stop the mutual sentiment of "...really?" amongst them.

And currently, Mark stood in front of its black front doors, ringing the black doorbell and covering his ears as trumpets echoed from inside the house, playing to the tune of the guitar solo of Gun N' Roses' 'Sweet Child O' Mine.' Only seconds later, did the door swing open, revealing a robot, half of Mark's height. "SCANNING FACE... HELLO M-A-R-K, MARK." It greeted, well, robotically.

"Hey, Edison," Mark greeted the robot nonchalantly, walking in and shutting the door behind him, "where's Cabbage?" He asked as he took off his shoes and placed it on the nearby shoe rack.

"LOCATING THE DOCTOR..." Edison's eyes turned yellow, colour blinking repeatedly until it turned into a green light and stayed like that. "DOCTOR LOCATED - HE IS IN HIS LABORATORY DOWNSTAIRS."

Because was it really surprising that the house belonged to a guy who invented things for a living and went by the name of a vegetable in a bizarre way to honour his idol?

"Got it, I'll go meet up with him then." Mark informed, heading down the hall until he reached the black spiral staircase that led both to the third floor and bottom floor. It was really nice up there on the third floor though; Mark had been there before and it even came with a movie room! Too bad Cabbage rarely used it because he "doesn't have time for action sequences". So Mark, being the loyal lab assistant/test subject he was, headed down instead to the bottom floor, where he was greeted by a hallway that was lined up with pictures of old men on the walls. "My inspirations!" Cabbage would say. Among them were the likes of Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison (who he named his robot after, clearly), Nikola Tesla... you got the drift.

Regardless, Mark never stayed in the hall longer than he needed to - he wasn’t sure if portraits of old men who were dead by now staring at him was exactly his kind of vibe.

At the very end of the hall, all that awaited him was a grey metallic door that had some vapour seeping through the narrow space at the bottom of it. "Shit, I didn't bring a fire extinguisher today..." Mark cursed, grabbing onto the straps of his backpacks and readjusting it on his shoulders. "It's okay, Mark. He hasn't killed you before, so he can't kill you today...?" He wasn’t sure what the logic behind that thought was but you couldn’t blame him for trying to... reassure himself for whatever was about to come beyond those doors. It was funny to him; he had been the lab rat of many of Cabbage's crazy experiments and inventions, yet he kept coming back and every time he did, the jitters were always there.

Maybe it wasn’t because he was scared of death. Because he wasn’t - his father always drilled the idea into his head that God would welcome him with open arms when the time came. At the very least, if Mark died - most likely because of one of these experiments and inventions - he'd be bringing Cabbage with him. But hey, that was beyond the point.

If not the fear of death, then what? Maybe, just maybe... one of these days, one of Cabbage's revolutionary inventions would actually be successful. That for all of the craziness that's going on inside the mad scientist's head, it would finally pay off.

If only he knew when.

Mark reached for the handle and twisted it, pulling the door open and nearly coughing when a whole cloud of mist and vapour rushed at him. "Jeez, Cabbage, what are you doing this time?" Mark coughed into his arm as he took a step into the laboratory. He actually couldn't see the scientist at first, waving his hand around in hopes that he'd be able to swat away the mist and vapour. The space around him eventually did clear, though, revealing...

Nothing?

Instead of the usual grand machine that looked like it was taped together, Mark was greeted with... a clear space. The scientist was over at his desk just up a set of stairs that led to a second floor within the big room. "Cabbage!" Mark called after him, waving his hands to get his attention.

Whatever the scientist was busy doing, it was important enough to leave Mark ignored for a good five seconds. It left him pouting, though the scientist eventually did glance over at the boy, his eyes widening behind his circular glasses. "Mark, boy, there you are!" Cabbage sprang out of his seat, quickly rushing down to the boy he had called over. He held some sort of watch in his hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world. Jeez, since when did Cabbage wear Rolex? "Took you long enough! I was bouncing in my seat waiting for you to come over! But in the meantime, I was able to complete another one after confirming my calculations for the twenty-seventh time..."

One thing that nobody wanted to do was sit through Cabbage's rambling, prompting Mark to speak up. "Whoa, calm down, Cabbage. What's going on? Where's your invention?"

"Oh Mark, you're looking at it." Cabbage held out the watch and Mark raised an eyebrow.

"That small thing?" Mark narrowed his eyes at the watch in the scientist's hand. "Are you sure? Last time I came in for one of your creations, it was twice my size and almost killed me." But knowing the kind of person Cabbage was, Mark wouldn't be too surprised if this little watch managed to wreck havoc as well. How ironic it would be, for something so small to cause so much chaos.

Cabbage shook his head, meeting Mark's gaze with oddly serious eyes. "Mark, the creation I hold in my hand can - and will - change the world. If left in the wrong hands, everything could collapse. Society will crumble, the universe will be left in a never-ending stream of terror, reality will no longer exist, the concept of time will-"

"Okay, okay," Mark was left, once again, trying to calm down the frantic scientist, "Cabbage, deep breaths. Tell me, what did you create?" It couldn't be that bad that it left the older man going on some admittedly fear-inducing rant.

"A time travel machine."

One Mississippi, two Mississippi...

"Alright, I'll see you next time then, Cabbage." And almost immediately, Mark turned on his heel, prepared to just dip out of there.

"Wait, no, Mark!" The scientist called after the boy, grabbing a hold of his sleeve, "Please, hear me out!"

"Time travel, Cabbage!" Mark whirled around, disbelief painted in his features. "Do you even hear yourself right now? That's impossible! This is impossible! Listen, I'm fine with being your test subject but even I have to put my foot down somewhere when things get a bit too crazy!"

Despite Mark's reasonable concerns, Cabbage really didn't feel like letting his lab assistant slip away from the tip of his fingers, especially now of all times. "Come on, Mark! Twenty-seven times! I checked my calculations twenty-seven times! Don't let my hard work go down the drain!"

"Then do it yourself! Time travel yourself!" Mark exclaimed.

"I can't! I need you to go so I can stay behind and collect all the data while making sure you don't get stuck in the future or something!" Cabbage explained.

Unfortunately, Mark's face still showed utter disbelief. "You know, this really doesn't help your case, Cabbage!"

"Fine! We'll do this the fair way then!" Cabbage shouted, holding his fist out.

"Are you serious? Rock, paper, scissors?!" Mark cried out, covering his eyes. If there was one thing he couldn't say no to, it was rock, paper, scissors. Why? Maybe because he boasts a seven-hundred-fifty-two win record, with a mere twenty-one losses in the game. As you could probably assume, Mark was the undisputed rock, paper, scissors king in Uicheon, and only two kinds of people would dare challenge him in the game when it came to bets. Those who were bold and those who were desperate.

"I mean it, Mark! If you win, you can walk right out that door and never look back. I won't force this onto you. But if I win..." If Cabbage won, "you have to at least give this experiment a thought."

"Wait, that's it?" Mark uncovered his eyes, surprise in his voice. But hey, it wasn't a bad deal at all - in fact, the opposite. If Mark won - which he was pretty much guaranteed to - he could leave. If he didn't, he could pretend he thought it over and just say no in the end. "Well shit, say no more, Cabbage." And out Mark's fist went. “On shoot?”

"On shoot." The scientist confirmed, the two men placing their fists behind their backs.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Rock for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"You got lucky." Mark rolled his shoulders back. "But this is it." And back their fists went behind them.

"Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!!"

Scissors for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"I won..." Cabbage glanced down at his fist, mouth left agape, "I-I won! Against you!"

Yikes, better make that record seven-hundred-fifty-two wins to twenty-two losses now.

"I-I..." Mark was still in disbelief, for a totally different reason now, however. "I... I lost?" Under such circumstances too... but seriously! Time travel was a bit too much! "H-Hey, that doesn't mean I'm going to be going through with this! Remember, you said if you won, you'd let me think about it!" Mark reminded.

"Yeah, but only because I didn't think I'd actually win!" Cabbage snorted, shaking his head as he tucked the watch safely in the pocket of his white lab coat. "But I am a man of my word, so I'll give you some time to think about it. How about until the end of the day?" He suggested.

"That's a bit too soon, don't you think?" Mark frowned, not really liking the idea of being forced into a decision so quickly.

"Sorry, is that loser talk?" God, that damn Cabbage always knew how to get under Mark's skin.

"Fine, by the end of the day. But don't be surprised if my answer doesn't change." Mark warned. "Now if that's it, I'll be going." Mark huffed, turning around and heading to the door once more. This time, the scientist let him go, but not without some parting words.

"See you soon, Mark."

(Y/N) doesn't know where her life went wrong.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration and a dramatic one as well, but it didn't change the fact that instead of living out in the city and pursuing her dream as a world renown film director, she was stuck in her small hometown, working full-time at a film-rental store.

What was even the point of this store anyway? Everything was online nowadays anyway - who did the owner think he was, trying to compete with Netflix?

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." (Y/N) mumbled to herself from behind the counter, staring dully at the analog clock hung just above the front doors. An analog clock - what year was this again?

"(Y/N)," the voice of the store's owner, Mr. Yoon, was a less than welcoming disruption to her daily "clock-watching" (as she termed it herself), but at least it was a good way to remind her that the day was almost over, "did the kids all go home already?"

(Y/N) nodded, reaching below into the counter for a piece of paper with names and times. "Yup, Jungwoo and Sungchan just finished their shifts half an hour ago." She pointed to their names on the paper, "Signed out here."

"Great. You're in charge of closing up for today then, I have business in the city." Mr. Yoon informed, proudly readjusting his grip on the handles of his briefcase.

"Godspeed, Mr. Yoon." (Y/N) nodded, watching as the man left with a nod. And as the doors closed behind him, the female found herself alone in the store. All alone... which actually wasn't even that uncommon.

(Y/N); twenty-four years old, graduated from a local college two years ago with a degree in Film Studies with hopes of eventually entering the field of film-making and directing. She had high hopes, especially when she graduated. "To the city and A-list I go!" She could remember cheering that day in her car, diploma in hand and graduation gown still on.

But somebody must have forgotten to tell her that the university you went to mattered - and just how competitive the job market was for... pretty much every job.

Now this wasn't to say the college she attended was bad or anything, it just wasn't... one of the SKY universities. And before she knew it, when it came time for job hunting, the positions were constantly being filled out by "better candidates" and after a certain amount of "we regret to inform you"s, (Y/N) decided to go back home.

Home, in the beautiful yet small town of Uicheon. All she wanted was to make it big, live in a nice condo in Seoul and shop at luxury brands. Yet now, she found herself wearing what was possibly a ten-year-old uniform from the back storage with a name tag that was always tilted at a forty-five degree angle no matter how many times she tried to fix it.

But don't get her wrong! She hadn't given up yet - she absolutely would not! Her films might not be playing in theatres or at the Busan International Film Festival, but she still enjoyed writing up ideas and getting some of her co-workers to act out some scenes for her while she filmed eagerly with her trusty camcorder.

The Sony HDR-CX675; this bad boy cost her a good two months of saving up but God, was it worth it. Jungwoo in a wig and Sungchan throwing pens like they were daggers had never looked so good in HD until (Y/N) had gotten her hands on that beloved camcorder of hers.

"Should I film the clock or something?" She sighed, eyes wandering back over to the analog clock. At least she only had an hour left before the store closed, and she usually spent most of that time cleaning up anyway.

And so that hour began, dreadfully long until with only ten minutes to spare, the front door had opened, prompting (Y/N) to rush back to the counter from the storage room, though not without grumbling to herself quietly about what asshole comes into a store ten minutes before they close.

But it wasn't just anybody who came in - it was Mark, the boy who always complimented her hair no matter how lazy she had been to brush it that day. Still, flattery always earned some brownie points in (Y/N)’s books. So she wasn't hesitant at all when she had greeted Mark. "Hey, it's nice to see you here! Renting a movie?" She asked, resting her arms on the counter top.

"Yeah, looking for some Christian-friendly Halloween movie. For the kids at church this Sunday, since Halloween is tomorrow." Mark chuckled shaking his head.

"Let me see what I can find," (Y/N) grinned as she slipped away from the counter and to one of the shelves, "I'll be honest though, you're probably better off showing the kids some cartoon from Netflix or something."

As if Mark was going to tell her that he insisted to his dad on renting a movie, for he wanted to see and talk to the girl of his dreams who currently had her back turned to him. "Well you know us, terrible with technology." Instead, that was all he could muster up.

"I'll bet." She snickered jokingly, turning back to him with a movie now in her hand, "Toy Story of Terror sound good to you?"

"Better than showing them Scream." Mark shrugged before heading back to the counter with her. "I'll pay with debit."

"Mhm," (Y/N) nodded, taking his card and swiping it for him through the machine, "you know the usual, watch within thirty days and return it after those thirty days." She reminded him with a yawn. God forbid Mr. Yoon ever see that.

"Busy day?" Mark offered a small sympathetic smile as he took his card back as well as the movie. "I kind of get it. Cabbage called me in for one of his inventions today."

"Today?" She asked, watching as the boy across from her nodded. "What was it this time?" Everybody in town felt bad for Mark since he was the one always testing out Cabbage's inventions, but at the same time, at least it wasn't them?

"Gosh, you wouldn't believe me if I said it." He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "A time travel machine - or like, a time travel watch, I guess."

"Time travel?" The gasp from the female was expected; anybody would be surprised. "I always knew Cabbage was ambitious but definitely not to the extent of time travel!"

"Yeah, needless to say, I said no. Or like, I told him I would think about it, you know?" Mark frowned. "I just can't believe... time travel of all things."

"I'll be honest," there was a smile spreading on (Y/N)’s face, to the slight surprise of Mark, "the idea of time travel sounds so cool though. I'd love to try it out." When Mark had brought up what had happened at Cabbage's house, he didn't think (Y/N) would actually be... interested in the scientist's invention. Definitely not when it was so absurd. But she looked so cute, the way she stood up straighter and her attentive eyes as he talked about it. Gosh, he wished he could tell her that it wasn't worth the time. But her interest was clear, that much he couldn't ignore.

"Then... why don't you try it in my place?" Mark suggested hesitantly. He didn't want (Y/N) and her pretty little self anywhere near those dangerous creations, for concern of her safety. But she really seemed to be interested in this, and this... it was the least he could do.

"Alone? No thanks." She giggled softly, to the relief of the boy who had suggested it in the first place. "Maybe if someone else was with me though. Like a time travel duo!" Hold up - someone else?

"This is your chance, Mark!" His inner voice practically screamed at him. Anything for (Y/N), right? "But it's so dangerous!" His other inner voice tried deterring him from going through with what he was about to suggest. But for (Y/N)! "Then," Mark felt his heartbeat quicken, excitement and hope visible in his eyes, "you wouldn't mind if we did it together, would you?"

If his friends Johnny and Donghyuck were here, they'd definitely be cheering and slapping him on the back. It felt like he was asking her out, something he always dreamed of doing but never really having the guts to do so. Rejection was a scary thought, but as he watched the wide smile that spread onto (Y/N)’s face, he knew he had something to look forward to, even if through... this.

"Of course! it'll be fun!" Score! "Too bad only one person can go though, I assume." She frowned.

And for a second, Mark's hopes had shattered once again. But then he remembered something back at Cabbage's house, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't over yet. "Actually, I think Cabbage mentioned making two watches." After confirming his calculations twenty-seven times. "Why don't we go together?"

"Seriously? You wouldn't mind?" Oh, what Mark wouldn't given just to see that wide smile on (Y/N)’s face every single second of the day.

And with a smile of his own, he nodded. "Of course not, noona."

Love has always been a motivation for man, ever since the beginning of humans. And as time continued on and advanced, a variety of factors had been added to that list of motivation, such as money and power. But one constant above all was always going to be love - something that had always been interpersonal.

So that was why Cabbage wasn't too particularly surprised to see Mark come back to his house later in the evening, this time, with a female companion. And judging by the look of awe on her face, it didn't take much for the scientist to connect the dots. "Mark, you came back!" Cabbage smiled down at the boy from the second floor of his basement lab. "With a friend this time?"

"Right," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing to the scientist, "(Y/N), this is Cabbage as you already know, and Cabbage, this is (Y/N), my friend."

"Hi! It's great to be here! Like, really great." (Y/N) was still enamoured by the many... things going on in the lab, though Mark couldn't blame her.

"Anyway Mark, have you given my invention a thought?" Cabbage inquired, standing up from his seat by his computer and leaning against the railing. "I assume that's why you're here, after all."

Mark nodded. "I have." He confirmed, biting down on his lip. "And I'll do it."

"You will?" The scientist's eyes widened, grin spreading on his face. "That's great!"

"But," Mark began, gaze falling over onto (Y/N) for a short second before back onto the scientist, "with conditions."

"Conditions?" Cabbage raised an eyebrow, pleasantly intrigued.

"Conditions!" (Y/N) suddenly spoke up with a grin, earning a look from the two. "Sorry, it just felt kind of intense so I wanted to ease tensions a bit." She coughed, glancing back and forth between the two. "Please, continue." She urged.

"A-Anyway yes, conditions." Mark cleared his throat before turning to the scientist once more. "I want (Y/N) to come with me. You have two watches, don't you?"

"I do." Cabbage nodded, fishing his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and bringing out two identical watches. "So far, they're the only two I have so I need to make sure that your friend will be extra careful with this."

"She will." Mark reassured without any hesitation. "I know she will, because she's (Y/N)." A man who was claiming everybody's hearts left and right - except for (Y/N)’s though, unfortunately.

Cabbage looked as if he was pondering on the thought for a bit before eventually nodding and making his way down the stairs. "Well, if Mark is vouching for you, I guess it should be okay." Cabbage nodded before gesturing for the two to follow him to the back of the lab, where large screen rested on the wall and multiple smaller monitors on both it's sides, resting on a glass desk. Below it were multiple keyboards, a few touch pads here and there with clearly different functions. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "This is where I'll be monitoring and communicating with you two while you're in whatever time period you land in." He explained, gesturing to his set up.

"What about the watches?" (Y/N) asked.

"I'm just getting to that." Cabbage nodded, reaching for the two watches once again. "Gather around, you two." He motioned for them to come closer. "It looks like a regular analog watch at first, but if you tap the clock face," he did what he had just said, the other two watching in awe as a small digital hologram had appeared in the air, just above the clock face, "it has information such as your battery life on the right hand corner, the date and time you're in, the option to video call me, and the option to switch time periods." He pointed out each detail on the hologram. "Now the problem with the switching time periods is that once you arrive somewhere, you're stuck there for, at a minimum, twenty-four hours before the voltage and particle energies recharge and allow you to travel elsewhere."

"Wait, so you're staying we might be stuck in a different time for a whole day?" Mark asked, a bit of alarm evident in his voice.

"Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out the proper calculations to make the recharging process quicker but for the meantime... yes." The scientist sighed. "But hey, at least it's not twenty-five hours...?"

"Cabbage!" Mark groaned, running his hand down his face.

"I mean, twenty-four hours doesn't sound that bad." (Y/N) hummed. "I'd love to explore a different time period, really get to know what it was like!"

"See, at least someone's optimistic." Cabbage sent a not-so-subtle look over at Mark. "But anyway, I actually have a quest for you two."

"Ooh, a quest! I feel like I'm in a video game." (Y/N) giggled, and if it weren't for the fact that she was totally digging this right now, Mark would have just straight up left out of fear for his own safety.

"Exactly!" Cabbage nodded eagerly. "Since you two will be going to different time periods, I want you to bring back a memento of some sort from each time period."

"Anything specific?" Mark asked, wanting to make sure he was going into this with full details.

"Yes, for the purpose of analytic purposes due to their high amount of energy." Cabbage turned to the two, a suddenly serious look on his face. "A meaningful item to at least one person you encounter."

The two waited for him to say more, but nope, all he did was stare back at them. Mark ended up being the first to speak up. "Hm, I think you're missing the part where you, oh I don't know, tell us what you mean by ‘meaningful item’??"

"That will vary from person to person, Mark boy." Cabbage sighed, giving an empathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "One person's 'meaningful item' might be a necklace that their mother gifted them, or maybe a letter from a lover for a soldier - everything in life is a variable anyway."

"Wait, then how do we know something is a meaningful item?" (Y/N) asked.

"That's where this last function of the watches come in," Cabbage turned his attention back to the watches, "this icon," he pointed to one of the icons on the hologram screen that resembled a heart, "will allow you to scan a person once you've talked to them. This only works one person at a time though, and it does drain a lot of energy from the watch battery. It'll allow you to see particles coming from objects, like sparkles. The more vivid, bigger and brighter the particles, chances are that's your person's meaningful item. So be careful with who you choose to use it on - once you scan that person, you'll have to find their meaningful item before you can use it again. Not to mention that the longer it takes for you to find the meaningful item, the more energy it drains." He warned.

"Talk about ominous, gosh." Mark sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"It'll be exciting though, Mark." (Y/N) glanced over at the boy beside her, a grin spreading on her face. "We're in this together, after all!"

"Noona..." A shade of red coated Mark's cheeks as he stared down at her, eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Ahem, and me too." Cabbage interrupted, "Just, I'll be back here handling everything."

"Yes, of course, because where would we be without you, Cabbage?" Mark sighed, feeling a bit salty over the scientist's interruption during his and (Y/N)’s "moment".

"Love you too, Mark." Cabbage blew a kiss his way before handing a watch to Mark and (Y/N) each. "Are you two ready?"

"Wait, we're doing this so soon?" Mark's eyes widened, staring down at the watch in his hands with a bit of fear.

"Better sooner than later." Cabbage shrugged, helping attach the watch onto Mark's wrist and then to (Y/N)’s. "You guys will be fine, don't worry. I'm here, after all!"

"So reassuring, Cabbage." Mark grumbled, about to protest over the quick timing and suddenness of all of this if not for the sudden feeling of warmth in one of his hands. He glanced down at said hand, eyes lingering on the smaller hand that had clasped his own. And as his eyes wandered up to the hand's owner, he swore she was going to be the death of him.

"It'll be okay, Mark." (Y/N) squeezed his hand softly with a reassuring smile. "We're in this together." She repeated.

"Right..." Mark trailed off before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Together." He then glanced over at the scientist. "We're ready, Cabbage."

With an excited smile, the older man nodded before turning to his set up and taking a seat down in the chair. The sounds of his quick tapping against the keyboard keys had Mark worrying with every passing second, but as (Y/N) held his hand, he figured this wouldn't be a terrible way to die. "Adios, you two!" Cabbage called out before hitting one last button. Click!

And as a bright and large flash of light illuminated within the lab, Mark knew it had begun, especially with the way his limbs practically burned and his consciousness struggling to stay intact.

The things he'd do for love, huh?

#nct fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee #nct mark fluff #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #mark lee x reader #nct #nct 2020 #nct fics #nct x reader #nct angst #mark lee angst

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wolf08 · 4 years

Text

The Art of Seduction

A/N: Surprise! I couldn’t resist taking a break from my other work to participate in SasuSaku Month 2020. I missed fic writing so much and had a blast with this. Hope you enjoy. :)

Prompt: Let’s play pretend (Sorry, I know I’m like 5 days late lol)

Summary: Kakashi Hatake, Sixth Hokage and the mastermind behind the infamous bell test, had just the trick for igniting the inevitable romantic spark between his beloved students: assign Sakura a seduction mission. Blank period. SasuSaku. Available on fanfiction.net and AO3.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction using characters from the NarutoTM world, which is trademarked by Masashi Kishimoto. The story I tell here is created for entertainment only and is not part of the official NarutoTM storyline. I do not profit financially from this story.

Tags: Humour, fluff and humour, mutual pining, attempted seduction, awkwardness

Words: 3463

***

The Art of Seduction

***

“Hey – what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

One sunny afternoon, amidst Sasuke and Sakura’s private travels, while Sakura was rinsing her tired feet and Sasuke was sharpening their weapons after weeks of climbing mountains and hiking through forests, the duo was unexpectedly interrupted.

“That! Flying straight at us!” Sakura shouted and leaping clear out of the rushing brook, over the rocky shore, and onto the surrounding grass.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and glanced in the direction of the disturbance.

“A bird,” he said simply without budging from his shady spot at the foot of a large oak tree.

Sakura rolled her eyes before breaking out into a grin. “Not just any bird – it’s the Hokage’s messenger hawk!”

This piqued Sasuke’s interest. It had been months since the pair had heard a peep from their home village, after all.

As it happened, the bird was carrying a scroll addressed to Sakura.

“What does Kakashi want?” Sasuke asked, while hopping to his feet and joining his companion by the brook. Sakura was crouched by the rocky shore, eagerly unravelling the scroll.

Sasuke watched her closely– taking in the emotion brimming behind her emerald eyes and her trembling fingers.

She misses home, Sasuke thought, his chest tightening. Though he didn’t blame her, Sasuke just hoped she didn’t miss home too much.

He didn’t express it much, but Sasuke thoroughly enjoyed his lively travelling companion’s company. And he really didn’t want her to leave.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the hopefulness drained from Sakura’s face as she scanned the letter. She pouted and scrunched her eyebrows together (a rather adorable expression, in Sasuke’s opinion, all things considered).

“What, Sakura?” he asked and drawing closer, crouching beside her, and hoping beyond hope this wasn’t bad news.

“It’s… a mission assignment.”

There was confusion written all over her features. Sasuke didn’t blame her.

“But you’re with me. We’re already on a mission,” he mused while reaching for the scroll to have a look himself, but, to his surprise, Sakura tugged the scroll out of his reach, colour rising in her face.

Sasuke blinked. “Sakura..?”

She twisted away from him, her face buried in the scroll and her cheeks a similar hue as her pale, pink hair. “It’s assigned just to me. And it’s a… weird one,” she said quietly, like she couldn’t believe what she was reading.

“What’s the mission?” Sasuke asked, dread pooling in his stomach.

“A seduction mission.”

***

Sakura paced back and forth through the grassy clearing in bare feet, hands clasped behind her back, and feeling stressed out of her mind. Sakura had never been assigned a seduction mission before. She had most certainly fantasized about doing one, back in her early teenage days, as most young kunoichi did. Because there had been a certain thrill in using her sex appeal as a weapon against an unsuspecting opponent. It was the perfect blindside.

But these times were different.

Nowadays, Sakura would much rather spend her time exploring the land with her beloved travelling partner than seduce strangers. And, to boot, Sakura had never been particularly confident in her ability to sway someone romantically (with her ever-so-distant object of affection compounding her self-doubts).

Sasuke’s reaction to her mission had been rather hard to read. He seemed puzzled as he read the letter over a couple of times himself. “Do you do these often?” he asked with raised eyebrows, his voice catching ever so slightly.

“No, never,” she groaned and crossing her arms.

This is going to be terrible, she thought. Failing to make a move on the love of her life even once during their months travelling alone together told her as much. Although she and Sasuke had undoubtedly grown closer and were teetering on the edge of being in a relationship – between their heated looks and gentle touches – nothing outwardly romantic had actually transpired between them.

And now Sakura was expected to leave to seduce someone else?

Some wing man you are, Kakashi-sensei.

“Then why’d he assign you?” Sasuke wondered with narrowed eyes while pocketing the scroll.

Sakura shrugged. “Well, we’re only a few miles away from the village that the… target is currently in. I bet Kakashi-sensei has been tracking our whereabouts and picked me because of proximity. Plus the target isn’t staying there much longer so I’ll need to set out first thing tomorrow.”

According to the mission assignment, the target in question was an important Wind Country delegate who (rumour had it) was involved in a human trafficking scheme. Apparently he was known as being a bit of a ladies man – thus, Sakura presumed, seduction tactics were a straight-forward means of extracting information from him.

“Hm,” Sasuke said.

“But I don’t know the first thing about seducing someone!” Sakura fumed, hands on her hips as she resumed her pacing. “Kakashi-sensei screwed up. It’s gonna be a total flop.”

Sasuke was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said before returning to the shade of the tree and resuming his task of sharpening their weapons.

Sakura watched as he ran a hand through his black, mused hair and grabbed a kunai and ran the blade along the sharpening stone with determined, aggressive motions. His expression was impassive, with his dark eyes focused on the task and his mouth frowning in concentration.

Sakura turned away, as not to be caught ogling at her handsome companion.

But that was when she was struck with an idea. An embarrassing, yet intriguing idea.

“Hey, Sasuke-kun?” she asked, feeling her face warm in anticipation.

He glanced at her. “What?”

She returned his gaze. “How do you do it?” Sakura asked bravely. “You know, women practically faint in your presence. How do you get their attentions so easily?”

Sakura figured he was a neutral party on the matter, and she was willing to follow any advice she could get her hands on. After all, she could personally attest to the effect her travelling companion had on women, so surely he had some advice.

Sasuke redirected his stare to something on the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and joined him beneath the tree. “Oh sure you don’t,” she teased. She plopped down right in front of him. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t help but smirk because Sasuke looked about as uneasy as she felt, his face tinted pink and his eyebrow twitching as he tried to avoid looking at her. “C’mon. What’s your secret?”

He looked up and there was something almost pleading in his dark eyes. “Sakura, believe me. I have no clue what I’m doing,” he said. He held her gaze and Sakura’s heart skipped a beat for some reason. But she ignored it.

She pouted. Maybe he’s right – he’s just so effortlessly attractive that he doesn’t even have to try.

Sakura felt a dip in her confidence as she was reminded that the two of them weren’t in the same leagues.

But she needed to try anyways.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But I need your help because I don’t know what I’m doing either and I need to complete this mission. And you’re the only person I have to consult.”

Sasuke eyed her apprehensively as she resumed her pacing.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s mind wandered. What on earth was she to wear for this mission? She only had training gear with her and she certainly didn’t have any make-up on hand. With such a tight schedule, a shopping trip was out of the question. Should she just wear her undergarments – her spandex shorts and black band around her chest?

I’ll feel uncomfortable wearing something that revealing, Sakura thought, her heartrate quickening. Did she really have to change her appearance that much, or was it more about her demeanor – how she moved and how her voice sounded, or whatever?

Ugh, I’m so confused!

Sakura gritted her teeth and stopped her pacing. Abruptly, she turned to face Sasuke square on. He was sipping from a water canteen, watching her curiously. “You’re a guy,” she pointed out. “Let’s pretend you’re my target. What would seduce you?”

Sasuke swallowed a mouthful of water with a profound gulp.

He blinked at her after that, eyebrow twitching again. He opened his mouth and closed it, faltering.

Sakura realized perhaps her question was too loaded. Let’s back it up, then. “How about – what are you attracted to in a woman? Let’s start with that.”

She watched him expectedly.

Sasuke seemed particularly fascinated by a knife he was sharpening when he said, “Um. Strength.”

“Strength,” Sakura repeated, a bit flatly. Really?

“And intelligence,” Sasuke added, his head tilted down and his eyes concealed from view behind his hair.

The knife he was sharpening really couldn’t get any sharper.

Sakura folded her arms and reflected on Sasuke’s comments. I wonder if he thinks I’m strong and smart enough to be attractive? Despite her generally low self-esteem, Sakura was fairly confident that she excelled in both of those areas, especially now.

She felt the tiniest tinge of hope. If that’s what he’s into, maybe I’ve got a shot?

But that was besides the point. She had a mission to focus on.

Did other men look for strength and intelligence in women? She wasn’t sure. Either way, it would be hard to show off those qualities to her target, unless she challenged him to an arm wrestling contest or a game of cards.

Sakura suspected there were more straight-forward ways to seduce a stranger.

She sighed. “This would be so much easier if I were talking to Naruto,” she groaned while leaning against a protruding rock between the brook and the tree. Sakura had a feeling that said Hokage-in-the-making had an arsenal of strategies for seducing men – given his experience using those very strategies in the guise of his Sexy Jutsu.

Sasuke turned to her, a trace of competitiveness in his eyes, before he seemed to remember what they were talking about and turned away.

It seemed he was willing to accept defeat from his rival on this particular matter.

“Okay, how about looks? You must have thoughts about looks, at least?” Sakura tried.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “What are you asking?”

She felt her heartrate quicken again, for some reason. “I mean, what do you find seductive about a woman’s appearance?” she clarified.

I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

As anticipated, Sasuke looked dumbfounded by her question. But he at least seemed to be thinking about it, given his thoughtful stare into the distance with his eyebrows furrowed.

It was kind of him to play along and try to help – despite his clear discomfort. Sakura felt a stab of empathy and decided to ask what she felt was an easier question.

Thinking back to their Genin days, and Ino’s insistence that Sasuke preferred certain hairstyles on girls, Sakura asked, “For instance – should I change my hair?”

There wasn’t much she could do about its length or colour – unless she got her hands on a wig, somehow. But maybe she could style it differently, by tying it up or braiding it?

“No,” Sasuke replied curtly.

“Okay… what about make-up?”

Sasuke shook his head before getting up with the water canteen in hand. “No. You’re fine,” he said, and making his way towards the brook.

Sakura looked up, her heart fluttering slightly because maybe that meant he liked the way she looked.

Or maybe he was just trying to end the conversation.

Sasuke crouched on the rocky shore of the brook, dipping the canteen beneath its surface for a top-up.

Sakura’s eyes roamed skyward to the tuffs of clouds, her mind running astray. She didn’t mean to torment Sasuke with this awkward conversation, but she really did need all the help she could get. She imagined herself entering a darkened pub to execute her mission. She just had to pull this off, somehow, because if her enemies caught onto her, it could turn into a dangerous situation – not for her personally, for surely she could pummel her enemy if she needed to, but there could be larger international strain if she was caught spying.

Sakura closed her eyes as she imagined approaching her target at the bar. She would introduce herself, start some small talk… and then…?

“Maybe I should touch him… suggestively. But not too inappropriately, you know?” she mused.

“No, I have no clue what you mean,” Sasuke chimed in. He was now sitting on the shore with his shoes discarded and pants rolled up, his feet resting in the cool, rushing stream as he replenished their supply of drinking water.

Sakura carried on. “You know – like running my fingers along his hands, caressing his face, or something. Maybe that would work?”

Once again, Sasuke seemed very fixated on his task. “Maybe,” he said.

But Sakura wasn’t really paying attention to him. She was in her own world now, talking through a scenario she was playing out in her head.

She imagined Tsunade or Ino – two of the most sought-after woman that Sakura knew – walking into a bar and harnessing the attention of most men they passed.

What was their secret?

“I know – maybe it’s just a confidence thing,” Sakura realized. “Maybe it’s more about how I say things.”

She stood up with vigour, facing the general direction of the tree, paced forward deliberately, swaying her hips and imagining that her target was before her. She ran a hand through her hair in a way she imagined must be at least somewhat attractive, and said, “Like what if I walk right up and whisper in his ear –” (Sakura cleared her throat and tried out a low and husky tone) “- I want you. You want me. Let’s get naked. And… And…”

Sakura faltered. I can’t do it, she thought while dropping to her knees.

Then she remembered her silent audience and peered in Sasuke’s direction nervously. To her horror, he was indeed watching her, his eyes wide and his lips pursed – like he was supressing a smirk.

He thinks I’m ridiculous. Sakura put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. This is embarrassing. I’m so bad at this.”

Sasuke shook his head and stood up, capping the water canteen.

“I’m such a lost cause,” Sakura continued. “I don’t even have a nice outfit to wear.” She fiddled with the zipper at the front of her dress absent-mindedly. “But maybe if I just remove my training clothes slowly enough, it’ll distract him from the stupid things I’m saying. Then I’ll just have to hope that –”

Sakura was interrupted by Sasuke grabbing her wrist, squeezing just hard enough to force her to release the zipper.

She turned to him, startled. “Sasuke-kun?”

He looked a little conflicted – perhaps over being amused and angry – and there was a bit of colour on his face again. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a blood vessel was about to burst in his temple. “That might work,” he said. “Don’t do it.” He gave her a pointed look and stalked back towards the tree.

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” Sakura asked his retreating figure, feeling more confused than ever.

“You’ll do fine, Sakura,” Sasuke mumbled with a dismissive air.

Sakura folded her arms and watched him pace away, not quite sure what to make of his comment.

She sighed again and muttered, “I wish I could just kick the guy’s ass.”

***

Sakura woke abruptly to the sounds of scuffling and snapping twigs.

Wasting no time, she grabbed a kunai from her weapon pouch and sprang to her feet in one fluid motion.

Damn it, Sakura thought. She was planning to set out for the seduction mission today – and how untimely it would be to get ambushed now.

That was when she realized that Sasuke, who had fallen asleep beside her under the looming oak tree, was missing.

Sakura felt a swell of panic as her eyes darted around. And then she heard more scuffling, and this time, a male voice yelling (though muffled slightly) from somewhere through the trees ahead.

Sakura inhaled sharply and raced through the trees, knife in hand, towards the source of the disturbance. And then, moments later, Sakura arrived on a perplexing scene.

“Sasuke-kun?” she asked and slowly lowering her knife.

Her travelling companion was standing there, wearing his usual black travelling cloak, with his back facing her. Evidently, he was just fine.

It was the man bound to the tree who didn’t look fine.

Sasuke turned towards her. He seemed a little surprised by her presence. “Good morning,” he said evenly.

“Good… what the heck is going on?!” Sakura exclaimed as she approached the pair of them, studying the bound man carefully. She didn’t recognize the guy whatsoever. But Sasuke wasn’t the type of person to capture strangers for no reason, so surely he had an explanation for this. “I’ve got a mission to complete today, so this had better be important!”

Sasuke turned to her, his expression calm. “There’s no need for you to go anywhere – this is your guy,” he said simply, and gesturing towards the bound man like he was presenting a gift.

Sakura’s jaw dropped. “So… you’re telling me that you abducted the man I was supposed to seduce?” Sakura asked and massaging her temples, the puzzle pieces coming together. She felt a tinge of relief come over her because normal interrogations were much more up her alley than seduction missions.

But something still didn’t add up. “Why?” she asked.

The man bound to the tree nodded stiffly and mumbled against his mouth restraints – apparently just as keen to find out what Sasuke was planning. He had a long, straight nose, grey streaks through his black hair, and expensive-looking pyjamas.

Yep, looks like an important delegate to me, Sakura thought.

Sasuke folded his arms, closed his eyes, and turned away slightly. “I knew you were stressed about the mission so I helped,” he explained. “I figure you can just ask him your questions here and I’ll wipe his memory with my Sharingan when you’re finished.”

He didn’t seem terribly concerned that the target could hear all of his.

Sakura frowned. Sure, it was nice of Sasuke to lend a hand, but Sakura found herself feeling angry. “So you didn’t think I was capable of doing the mission so you decided to intervene,” she snapped, rounding on him.

Sasuke turned to face her fully, eyes wide. “No, you’re capable..”

Sakura raised her eyebrows. “So you just didn’t want me to go on the mission.” Boldly, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No, I didn’t,” he finally admitted. And then, yet another surprise, Sasuke brought a hand to Sakura’s face, tracing her temple, cheek bone, and jaw with the tips of his fingers.

That’s a caress to the face if I ever saw one! she thought as a shiver raced down her spine. She was unable to look away. “Because you don’t want me seducing men,” she added with a smirk while she gazed at Sasuke’s face. Her heart was in her throat for being this close to him.

Sasuke’s fingers paused around her chin. His face was very close to hers now. “Because I don’t want you seducing other men,” he corrected quietly.

Sakura stared at him, processing the implications of his words as her face grew hot, and he leaned in closer. His nose was mere inches from hers, his breath warm on her face. Sakura’s eyes fluttered closed.

It’s happening! It’s finally happening!

“Ahem.”

Sakura startled and jumped about ten feet away from Sasuke. Enraged, she whirled in the direction of the disturbance and found that their captive, still tied to the tree, had chewed through his mouth binds and was glaring at them.

“Not that this isn’t fun, but if it’s not too late to change plans, I much prefer the one where this girl seduces me.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, her face still burning, as she smoothed out her hair.

That’s when she heard a familiar chirping sound. A sideways glance confirmed the Chidori in Sasuke’s palm. But even more menacing was the glare he was directing at their target.

“Sasuke-kun – wait! Just let me interrogate him first, okay? Then we can get back to… where we left off?”

Sasuke shot her a calculating look, eyes narrowed. He swallowed. It seemed he was quite torn between doing as Sakura asked or immediately murdering the guy tied to the tree. But in the end he caved, sitting on the ground with a humph, waiting impatiently for Sakura to finish her questioning.

Sakura hoped Kakashi wouldn’t be too disappointed that she’d failed to follow the instructions for the mission.

Then again, another part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was the outcome Kakashi planned for all along.

#ssm20 #ssm20d8 #sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku month #mutual pining #wolf08fic

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