#they broke up recently and now there is weird energy coming off this girl or so it seems to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mitsukui · 4 years

Text

good girl | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary: stress from the shop is visibly taking its toll on George, so you decide to help him out a little bit. (PART 2! + PART 3!)

Word Count: 1,4k.

Warnings: smut! Spitting kink, face slapping, choking, dirty talk, mentions of oral sex (male receiving) and daddy kink.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: this is the first time I’m writing something after a long, long, long pause, so I’m quite nervous about it. (｡╯︵╰｡) I hope you all enjoy it! Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention! ♡

Masterlist!

His eyes glistened with lust as he looked down at you. You had your body on the floor, thighs placed together with your delicate hands over them. With your eyes closed and tongue stuck out, the sight was almost like a mirage to George Weasley.

“Say it again.” One of his long fingers ran over your jawline, blood pumping through his veins in a rather quick way. He had been entirely bewitched.

Your eyes fluttered open, and it did not take long until his dark brown eyes met yours once more, both of your cravings for each other becoming mixed. “Let me suck your dick. Please.”

The pleading word suddenly sent novel shivers down his spine. He used the rest of his fingers to squeeze your cheeks lightly, enough only to form a pout on your already swollen lips. George loved how your lips looked after he devoured them.

It had all started out as kissing. You had been aching for some intimacy with him the entire week, but he had been exhausted due to the shop. You would never even dream of actually asking him to touch you in a different way than the one he was already touching you. The Holidays were a blessing to the twins, but they were also a curse, draining all of their energy. Your sly eyes did not fail to notice how tense he had been looking for the past few days, so you obviously had to do something about it. And you longed for him and his touch so much that you did not even care about your pleasure anymore. You were certain you would feel better only by hearing him moan.

Earlier that night, you finally got the type of attention you sought from him. It was a Sunday evening, and you bodies were spread across the couch in his flat’s living room. Your tongues easily found each other, and your hips rolled against his as your lips soon began to trail kisses down his neck. At that moment, you had him going.

When you felt him hard under your touch, you broke the contact existing between the two of you, and heard him groaning in disappointment. You allowed your body to fall down on the wooden floor, asking ever so innocently to wrap your lips around him. And now, there you were: looking up at his standing figure, and pleading again.

“Please.” Your tongue ran over your own lips, as a form of seduction and also of bringing back some comfort to you. He was acting slightly weird towards the situation, taking a long time to reply to you. “I know you have been tired, but I just want to help you relieve some tension. We don’t even need to do anything afterwards. I just really need to feel you fucking my face and getting off.”

“Open your mouth.” Once again, it took him a few moments to say anything at all. You were ready to stand up again and apologize for your bold actions and stupid babbling. But then, out of the blue, his voice interrupted the silence. It was deep and demanding, and you loved it.

This time, you did not close your eyes, since your curiosity did not allow you to. You simply opened your mouth in an O-shape, and stuck you tongue out as further as you possibly could.

Honestly, you hoped for him to thrust right inside your mouth. However, when you spotted his yet clothed manhood, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. And suddenly, you felt something.

A string of saliva traveled out of his mouth towards yours, his tall silhouette leaning down and one of his hands still holding your face. The warm liquid hit your tongue and you moaned unwillingly, surprised by how pleasant that was starting to feel.

His eyes captured the image and let it sink in for one second or two until the moment he ordered you to play with his spit. His instructions, which were voiced out in a breathy whisper, were crystal clear: you had to use your fingers, and you could not swallow it yet.

Quietness hovered over you two briefly, but he groaned once your index finger touched your own tongue, the muscle wrapping around your skin. You hollowed your cheeks as you sucked yourself, your imagination bringing some of your favorite memories back to life. George felt his member twitching inside his trousers and his tip becoming slightly wet.

Truth be told, George was a rather kinky man. And, often times, he would feel embarrassed to share everything with you. But watching you so desperately try to help him gave his insides a new wave of confidence.

Your playtime went on for a little while, but he was soon leaning down again and giving you more saliva. This time, he missed his aim a bit, and a thin string got to your chin. He was captivated by your actions and by how messy this could get.

“Swallow it.” His fingers squeezed your face with more strength as the hot fluid went down your throat. In no time, he let go of your face only for his hand to come down against it, a light slap hitting your skin. Your eyelashes blinked repeatedly out of shock, but you remained quiet. “Good girl. I bet you’re dripping for me already.”

And you were. It was hard to focus on your cunt at that point, especially because the cheek he had slapped was burning. But it was true: when you were able to finally pay attention to how you were feeling and to your own sensations, you realized your panties were heavy with arousal.

“Can you slap me again? A little bit harder this time, please…” You pleaded, and George fulfilled your wishes. A reddish spot was creeping its way to the surface, but you enjoyed the feeling.

This was all very new to you. Your boyfriend had always been pretty dominant with you, but he had never spat in your mouth or slapped your face before. Although it was a new experience, your throbbing cunt was deliciously nourishing desire in your whole body.

“Just look at that…” His deep voice pulled you out of your own trance. Your eyes darted up and met his, which were dark and devious. “My little princess looks so beautiful with a red spot on her cheek. Care to match both cheeks, darling?”

Even though his words were sweet, you felt utterly filthy. Things had escalated pretty rapidly, and you liked them enormously that way.

You slowly offered him your other cheek, the one that still had not received any attention from the delightful violence his hands gave you. His thumb ran over your skin and, for one second, you enjoyed a soft touch. However, that was soon destroyed by the stinging pain that stroke you again.

This last slap hit you hard. He murmured he had to match the color on the other side, so you just needed to be a good girl and bear the pain. Tears welled up to your eyes, but George wiped them away before they could even roll the entire way down your cheeks.

The pool of arousal in your stomach was getting into a tight knot. That moment was supposed to be about him, but you were so turned on by his recently revealed violence that you could not stop your own juices to wet your inner thighs.

“You are such a good girl, sweetheart. Being slapped and not making a fuss out of it. Maybe I should do it more often, hmm?”

You failed to hold back a raspy moan, and he smirked at your reaction. His words echoed in your ears, your head nodding up and down in agreement. You wanted to feel his hand against your skin like that whenever possible.

“Good girl. I’m so proud of you. You look beautiful like that, babe.” Both of his hands now cupped your face as he gently caressed your cheek bones. You closed your eyes at his comforting actions, but you could not lie and pretend you did not want more from him. “I’m gonna fuck your face now, okay? Gonna thrust into your mouth so deep you are going to be unable to speak properly for a while. And you’re gonna take it like the good, little slut you are, yes?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.”

At the mention of the never before used pet name, his breath hitched up in his throat and your eyes watched as he used his free hand to unzip his trousers. The other one was slowly sliding down your body. He kept it on the move until his fingers found your neck. George gave it a not-so-gentle squeeze and you felt air being cut from you, rolling your eyes to the back of your head in pleasure.

“Good girl.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #🌼 — personal: writings

985 notes · View notes

iguessilovebakugou · 4 years

Text

In Search of Silver Linings, We Discovered Gold || Bakugou x Fem!Reader (x Shinsou) || Happier pt 3 || Series

I really feel like Sleeping At Last’s “Two” resonates with Shinsou in this one. But also for the Reader towards Bakugou just like...in general. Also, I would suggest Gang of Youth’s “Achilles, Come Down” as well. And Lauren Aquilina’s “Fools”.

One day I’m going to make a playlist for this fucking series - and then you bitches will be sorry.

I’m sorry it took so long to get this part out. I feel like nothing I would write would live up to what I did 2 years ago now. So I really hope that people like this one just as much as the others.

Part One! Part Two!

Word Count: 7.7K TW: Smooching, Death Mention

“Hey, you okay?”

It should be so easy to explain to them what you were feeling. They where there with you. They went through the same thing you had, right? You were right there with Ochaco, sat right by her side and watched her tell Mr. Aizawa...you should be able to just...

“Yeah,” You offered Asui a bright smile. “Just...tired. These make up classes are just...they’re really killer, you know?”

The dorm had been quiet by the time the raid team had made their way home from their extra classes. Everyone had already gone to bed, the common area devoid of life by the time you had settled on the couches. And you were happy for it. Ever since...well, it had been a bit harder to be around everyone. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that after everything that had happened, happened. And you were supposed to just...move on from it. Keep going forward. No time to process.

You pulled out your phone to check your messages. You had hoped Shinsou would have at least texted you - but you had been left on read. You tried not to be upset about it and instead, pretended to go to another app and check your messages there. You even got comfortable and put an arm behind your head - yep, perfectly relaxed and not at all wanting to break down on the inside.

Tsu’s big bright eyes stared down at you. You wondered if she felt the same - if Kirishima, Izuku or Ochaco felt the same. You wondered if sometimes, during class, they just lifted their heads, looked around at your classmates and felt...so out of place. The only way you could describe it was like stumbling in the middle of a skit being performed in the middle of a park, and no one seemed to quite realize you weren’t actually an extra.

But you didn’t want to run the risk of looking at her. If she looked at you, she might realize that you hadn’t come to terms with what happened - with Nighteye, Lemillion, with that poor girl, Eri. And that wouldn’t do. That might lead into her asking what was wrong. And what were you supposed to do then? Answer her honestly? Come to terms with your feelings like a rational, level headed adult?

You? Nah. Never.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Once you were certain her back was towards you, you risked a glance in her direction.

Your body ached, your eyes were sore, and your mind felt blank but busy at the same time. You weren’t sure where to begin with everything, where to start with trying to catch up. But this had become your norm, and as sad as it was, it felt like your body was accommodating to the drama that had become commonplace in your life. You watched as she met Ochaco at the base of the steps leading up to the rooms. She seemed surprised when you didn’t move to join them, turning to give you a concerned glance and a lip pout - for extra measure.

You smiled, lifting up your phone and giving it a little wave. “I think I’m just going to hang out down here before heading to bed.”

“Oh,” She muttered softly. “Okay, if you’re sure?”

You knew she wasn’t buying the act - whatever it was - in the slightest. You knew Nighteye’s death hit her hard. A lot harder than you. As it should have - you had tried to use your quirk to defend her and Nighteye, only to be overpowered and rendered unconscious when it mattered most so you weren’t technically cognizant when she had made her getaway. But it must have been terrible, holding a man in your arms as he died. And yet here you are moping about it. What gives you the right?

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Another smile, this time a little wider. “Got some videos to watch, don’t want to run the risk of waking anyone up.”

You turned, ending the conversation there. You stared at your phone, sitting on the home screen and not bothering to look back once you heard them make the ascent up the stairs to their respective rooms. It had been getting harder and harder to sleep these past few days and you couldn’t spend another restless night staring at the same four walls anymore. Watching the same videos, rereading the same texts, you would go insane. With an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone to the side. Hands found your face, fingers rubbing your eyes while reclining back, letting out a slow, low groan.

The lights in the common room were dim, just enough to find your way in case you stumbled down here in the middle of the night. It was a small comfort, you figured to yourself, to have this moment alone. To sit in the quiet and listen to the sounds of your friends around you, of the dorm settling snuggly down for another night’s rest. And there you were, sitting by yourself in the common room. Trying to decide if you were still mourning for a man you spoke to maybe a handful of times before you watched him get impaled on a spike or if you were ready to move on from it all. Your head fell back limply against the edge of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to push any semblance of thought from your mind. You just needed this one minute, one second for your entire world to just...stop running away from you.

If I could just get to him in time, maybe I could, I could help. I could save him and be a hero and...

God, how dramatic could you get. At least you hadn’t held the man in your arms as he lay dying.

With a sigh, you sat yourself back up and went back to your messages, pulling up the chat with Shinsou. You hoped he was free. Maybe even free enough to talk. The empty feeling finding home in your chest was becoming too much. You could use him, right now. Maybe you could convince him to leave and come over. You could watch a movie and just talk until you passed out.

Like friends did.

And if he was there, maybe it would so much easier to stay asleep.

Hey. We just got home. Hope you’re...

Nope, delete. Didn’t sound right.

Hey! You free right now? I can’t sleep so

Nope, too eager.

Shinsou, you loser get your ass over here

Nothing was coming out the way you wanted it to. Nothing had ever sounded right. You had so many things you wanted to say and yet never seemed to have the energy for it anymore. Is this depression? Do you have depression? Do people who have depression know they have depression without being diagnosed with depression?

You bit your lip, chewed on it until it grew sore and red and angry. You needed your friend. Your best friend. Your only friend. You missed hanging out with him, missed being able to text him weird shit and get a selfie of him looking bored at the camera just cause he knew it would make you laugh. Cause you knew the weird shit you sent him made him laugh. You wanted to see his face, to hear his voice. You wanted it to go back before the dorms, back before whatever extra curricular thing he was doing. But it wasn’t like he was doing this on purpose! He was busy and you were just being fucking dramatic and needlessly stupid you didn’t even see Nighteye die but Deku did and he is holding himself together so much better and you would be okay if...if...

Why were you fucking crying now???????

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

“Hey.”

Given the recent events in your life, his gruff voice shattering the quiet of your isolation should have been expected. Nevertheless, it still sent your heart skyrocketing into your throat. You thought everyone had gone to bed and you could be a miserable wretch on your own time. You jumped, sending your phone clattering to the ground and sliding under the coffee table. The giant...granite...coffee table. “Ah, shit, shit...” You fell to your knees, trying to make a grab for it. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“I thought I would find you down here.”

Shinsou had hardly heard from you since the night you got back from the raid. He had seen the news that something had happened. When you didn’t answer his morning text, he just hoped you were just being your normal self. When you didn’t show up at lunch, he feared the worst. He paced his room, hardly ate, did nothing but refresh his news feed to see if your name flashed by as a causality. He figured no news was good news but waiting to hear from you was the hardest thing he ever had to do. And the fact you hadn’t told him you were going in the first place and had to find out about it by overhearing one of your classmates mention it?

Ample payback it seemed. Secrets had become your duo’s new norm - and he hated it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were told not to say anything to anyone. I’m sorry, Shinsou.”

Your voice had sounded so off, so different in what little words you spoke. Silence had never been so poignant until he experienced it from you. As he laid in bed and stared at the phone on his pillow, his heart broke with each toss and turn he could hear from you. He sat quietly, for that whole 2 hours as you tried to make sense of what you had just been through that day. But you never said more than a few words and, even so, those were just a mask to hide the rest of the truth you wanted to keep hidden. He listened, patiently, as you tried to place it all in order so you could begin to move past it.

He hoped he had helped - in what little way he could. In what minute way you had allowed him. You were closing off and he so desperately wanted to cry out for you. But he stayed quiet.

And he felt entirely useless.

He didn’t know exactly what happened; only what little information he had heard from Mr. Aizawa and even that had been bits and pieces. Confidential, he said. Bullshit, Shinsou thought. If he was going to try to begin to figure out a solution to...whatever it was that plagued you, to lift your spirits, he needed to know exactly what happened. But, when Shinsou had asked if you had been involved, if you were alright...?

“You’re friends with her, right? She didn’t really seem to want to talk about it when I asked her after the fact. But I figure that’s just because I’m her teacher. Maybe you should be the one to check in on her instead. She might actually open up to you.”

Open up to him.

And that was the problem wasn’t it? Something that always seemed to stand right between the two of you, pushing you in separate directions - opening up to each other. It was a thought that occurred to him as he watched you spin your spoon around in your soup, but refused to eat. The two of you had no problems talking, especially you. You talked a lot, and he...didn’t. You suited him fine. More than fine.

But what is talking if you’re not saying anything? What was the point of being friends if you couldn’t even rely on each other to keep a secret, to lean on each other when everything seemed so fucking terrible. Had he done you a disservice, hiding things from you? Had he given you the impression that you couldn’t come to him for something so small as a crush on...ah, for something really small? Had you transitioned from “don’t want to bother him with something silly” to “I can’t talk to him anymore period”?

Shinsou had always been the more straightforward one. Where you seemed to be an endless supply of needless conversation and seemed to always dance around subjects, Shinsou was the one who could give it to you as plainly as possible. And you knew that. You knew him better than anyone, could understand him better than anyone.

So when he didn’t give it to you as honestly, as plainly as he could have, it would stand to reason that you would be sent tumbling.

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

The text had come as a surprise. Shinsou had been trying to sleep, but it was a rare commodity those days. His mind swirled with thoughts of you. Of how much he missed just you. Your laugh, your stupid jokes. Everything was starting to feel so hollow when he heard that soft ding from across the room. To say he scrambled towards his desk where the phone lay charging was an understatement.

I really miss you.

You were screaming for him and he hadn’t heard it. You were sinking further and further and yet here he was, wondering and waiting for some sort of sign on what to do. How he could fix it - but later. He’s not strong enough now. He’s not ready. After he’s done with Aizawa. After he’s a hero. After after after. Always cautious, always testing the waters.

I just wish you were here.

You never waited, never paused, never hesitated. When Bakugou was kidnapped, you rushed home and came up with a plan of action. When you wanted to talk to him, you marched from your dorms, almost got into a fist fight, just to talk. You were reckless in all the best ways. In all the ways that made him want to scream, to touch you, to praise you, to love...to love you.

“I would be able to sleep if you answered your phone once in a while.”

He gripped his phone and hated that he had to draw one hand up to wipe his eyes. Hated that his chest ached and hated that you even had to ask him.

“I wish you would have answered me.”

No more. You would never have to ask him again.

He couldn’t pull his shoes on fast enough. Before Shinsou could stop, rethink if this was a good idea, he was outside and making his way towards your dorm. If he couldn’t help you now, when you needed it the most, when you were asking for him to pull you out from the waters...

His heart didn’t have the right to ache for you as much as it did.

The two of you had done this so many times, Bakugou was surprised that you weren’t in the kitchen when he finally got down stairs. The moment he got to the ground floor and saw you hunched over on the couch, his body froze.

He had been hoping to have a bit more time to think of what he wanted to say.

“Is it just me, or has she not been the same since coming back from the raid?”

“No, I noticed it too.”

“Should we ask her about it?”

The frog grew quiet for a moment. Bakugou had to strain to hear her response from down the hall. “I think she’ll open up when she’s ready.” She said softly. “If we try to push the issue before then, it might just make matters worse.”

“Yeah,” Uraraka responded, “I guess you’re right. Still...I’m just worried.”

Worried. For you.

He didn’t want to think about why he was down in the commons, so late at night. He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that seeing your shaking shoulders, hearing the fast gasps you were making, ripped his very state of being apart. He watched you, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like that you were in this state at all.

“Hey.”

He expected you to jump - it was a good thing that you did. He would drag you out of whatever rut you were in, kicking and screaming if he had to.

You got to your knees, cursing under your breath and scrambling for whatever you had been holding. Probably your phone. Bakugou stepped around the couch, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Figured I would find you down here.”

You didn’t pay him any attention. In fact, as you tried to reach under the coffee table, you kept your head turned - enough to where he couldn’t see your face. You kept cursing, kept trying to reach desperately. He watched you for a moment, feeling the frustration rise up inside of him. You were ignoring him. Like he wasn’t even there. Like he wasn’t standing in front of you.

“Hey!”

“SHHH!” You snapped to attention, pressing a finger to your lips. He tried not to stare for too long. “Do you want to wake the whole dorm!?”

“You should be in bed.”

Your stare lingered on him, for just a moment. He refused to break eye contact first, refused to back down from the daggers you were sending his way. You let out a huff, going back to searching for whatever it was that you had dropped. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Bullshit. He could tell. It was a fact that he didn’t like to pay much attention to: tiny mannerisms that caught onto his attention like a hook. You generally were so bright, hardly ever short. Low energy, but not tired? Sure.

He waited another minute. “The others just got home.”

The slight pause. Heh - you were like a book. So easy to read. “Oh.” You said so matter-of-factly. In another beat, you were back to searching, still focusing your gaze on the far side of the wall. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So unless you got sent back early, I doubt you’ve even had a chance to try and sleep.”

Your fingers clenched, your fist shaking against the granite top. Your body pulled up and away, resting in a rigid position. But you were still refusing to look at him; in fact, to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to see anything, you put your face in your hand. Still, you didn’t say a word, didn’t argue with him. So he continued: “I’m just saying, if you’re going to lie, at least keep track who you tell what.”

You didn’t respond. And he wished it didn’t make him as angry as it did. He wished that he had been able to stop the rage that bubbled in his stomach. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want you to hide anything from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable telling him when something was hurting you. After he laid it all bare for you a few weeks ago, you couldn’t be bothered to at least confide in him what the hell was going on in your tiny little world?

“...tch.” Bakugou fingers slid under the edge of the coffee table. “Grab the other side.”

You paused, turning to stare at him. His eyes met yours and he saw so clearly how blood shot they were, your cheeks blotchy and burning. You sniffled once, pushing a strand of hair back into place. “Uh...wha?”

“Do you want your crap or not!?”

“Oh, yeah, uh...” You pushed yourself up. His eyes followed you as you stationed yourself on the other side like instructed. “On three. One-”

He didn’t bother waiting. Up he lifted and you scrambled to meet him half way.

Just a little to the side - and the bright screen of your phone illuminated the living room. It was closest to him, causing him to flinch just slightly when the glow blinded him. He moved to grab it for you -

Before Bakugou could realize what was happening, your fingers brushed against his. You both paused, your digits flinching away from him every so slightly. He didn’t know if he should continue making the grab for it or if he should pull away. He didn’t want to. Your skin was so soft and warm and...

He could feel your eyes on him and almost was able keep his gaze away. Almost able to hold off temptation. But you were like that, weren’t you? The light had dimmed, casting a soft glow over your features. He wanted to look anywhere else - anywhere but at you. But your eyes held his, demanded that he hold your attention. He hated the soft sound that escaped him. Hated the way his heart hammered in his chest as you stared at each other, fingers still touching ever so slightly.

He shouldn’t feel this way about you. But he did.

Bakugou pulled back with a grunt. He could feel your eyes follow him as he stood back up and stepped away, away from you. Why did you do this to him? Why did you manage to make him the worst of himself? Lord Explosion Murder - reduced to a sniveling little puppy, eager to please because a girl he kind of thinks is pretty sometimes makes him feel like he’s going to throw up.

His fingers shook. He shoved them back in his pockets to hide the evidence.

You plucked the phone off the ground and immediately hit the lock screen to turn the light off. You were once against standing alone in the dark, though he could see you plainly. Neither of you said a word. He wished he could say something, not scream it but just say it. His mind strained to find something meaningful to say to you, something catching or just enough to keep you distracted from your thoughts. But you had the knack for words - he didn’t. All he could do was leer at you, waiting for you to start conversation. You always had something to say.

You silently slipped your phone in the pocket of your skirt.

There was something different about you. A wall that was keeping you from him. Maybe the girls’ concern for you had weight behind it. You still didn’t look at him, eyes downcast.

He had hoped, that night in the kitchen, that things might have been different. That maybe...someday...

“You got your damn phone. Now go to bed.” He turned on his heels and made his way back towards the stairs. He was done. He helped you out enough.

Sometimes you were too much. Messed with his head and pulled his mind in so many different directions, he forgot which way was up because right there with you was where he wanted to be.

“Why do you want to be a hero?”

Your voice cut through the silence of the dorm like a knife. He hadn’t expected you to speak up now, though it fit you. Question, make him stay; just when he decided to leave. And of course, because you asked him to stay - he would.

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Humor me.”

He regretted coming down here to talk to you. He should have just stayed in the comfort of his room. “Why?”

“Humor. Me.”

His eyes narrowed. Even if you wrapped yourself around him, brought him to his knees and groveling in your steps, no one spoke to him like that. He spun around, snarl behind gritted teeth. Who the fuck did you think you were talking to?

Then he paused.

You were watching him and the hollow expression on your face shoved the rage back down into his stomach. With just a glance, you quelled that fury. Another noise, another shock. Then your eyes softened and your shoulders slumped. You remembered where you were, who you were talking to...no...no, you had never been afraid to talk to him like that. Never afraid to meet his attitude head to head. So what was different now? “Please,” You added on, quietly.

What the hell happened to you?

Why did he want to be a hero?

“To be number one.”

“Is that it?”

I don’t know anymore. He didn’t like this line of questioning. Bakugou was a smart kid - he could tell this conversation wasn’t going to be like the last one the two of you had. No tea, no gentle touches. The wounds were infected now and he felt shame burrow deep. You had something you wanted to say, but something else was keeping it trapped, holding you back from being honest with him. “What are you getting at?”

You fell quiet, letting his eyes take you in. With a sigh, you turned and sat back down on the couch. Your body folded in on itself, your hands grasping your arms, shaking fingertips digging into the fabric of the white dress shirt you were wearing. “Nothing.” You said finally. “Just...thinking. About things.”

You thought a lot about a lot of things. Perhaps a little too much for too long. You were receding back into your thoughts, pulling away from him again. While he didn’t enjoy the feelings that being around you brought, losing you to your own headspace wasn’t something he would do tonight. Or...any night. His feet carried him back to the couch. With a groan he sat down beside you. “Well, then say it out loud.”

You let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sneer. “Yeah. Okay.”

It took everything in him to not reach out and grab you. “I’m being serious.”

“I know.”

He just wanted to fucking help you. “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Like you had helped him. “Whatever the hell that’s going on.”

A moment passed before you pulled your eyes back to his. Finally, you were back in the present - back in that room with him. Suddenly, you were aware that he had stationed himself beside you, so close your arms were a breath away from each other. And there was a moment of panic in your eyes.

You smirked, “Oh, are you playing therapist now?”

“Shut up!” He bellowed. “And tell me what the hell is going on before I change my mind!”

Your laugh was bitter, but it was something. You used your hands to push your hair back out of your eyes, “...okay.” You started...then fell quiet again. He could hear you swallow the regret, the shame, the fear. He watched as you struggled to put to words everything spinning around you. “I don’t think I belong here. At all.”

There were a million things Bakugou would have thought you could have said. That...wasn’t one of them. He had never thought of you not here. What would that look like?

“I look at everyone here: Kirishima and Uraraka and Tsu and Deku...and I just can’t seem to find a place to put myself. Among the rest of our class.” His brows furrowed as you spoke. He watched as your expression shifted with each word - angry and bitter and lost and upset. “Like, you all are able to keep your heads held high, keep looking forward and never seem to let things drag you down. I...I just don’t think I can do that. So...” You shrugged, swallowing harshly. “Maybe I don’t deserve to be here if I can’t handle it...not like everyone else can.”

This wasn’t about the raid - that was just a catalyst. It obviously struck a chord with you.

“That’s stupid.”

Another laugh. This one tear filled but honest; and so, so bittersweet. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re absolutely right. It’s pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No, you idiot. It’s stupid because you’re wrong.”

You stared at him, mouth agape. Then, in a second, your eyes narrowed, your lips thinned and your expression darkened. He couldn’t help but feel the pride bubble in his chest: You had realized you weren’t going to avoid this. Not with him. Not when he could help you. He closed his eyes, figured it best to keep you out of his sight until he finished.

“Look, you moron. If you want to be angry or sad about whatever the hell happened back there, fine. Do it. But what good is wallowing in your own self pity if you’re not going to do anything about it?!”

Your voice shook as you spoke. “Okay fine - then what should I do, Bakugou?”

His eyes snapped open, lips parted in surprise at the question. There was an edge to your expression, daring him to answer. Daring him to suggest something. Blow it up? Yell at it? Fight it until it gives up? But where would you start? It wasn’t a real person - you couldn’t threaten it to back down. Eyes scoured the floor for a response, searched desperately to find something - a strand of advice - to give you. But he had nothing.

“Yeah,” You moved, pushing yourself off the couch. You snatched your bag with such force it almost swung around and hit him in the face. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have an answer either.”

Shit. Shit. He watched you as you skirted past his legs, intent on burying everything again. If he let this go - let you go - you might actually do it. You might actually leave UA - leave everyone in Class 1-A, leave your dream, leave...him.

“It’s fine.” You added, making your way towards the stairs. “I’ll be fine.”

But he knew that was a lie. Everything about this situation was a lie. You wouldn’t be fine if he let you go upstairs, left you along with those thoughts of inadequacy, and if you kept falling lower and lower...?

“Hey.”

You paused in front of the elevator...then pressed the button, it’s soft white glow sending panic down Bakugou’s spine. The only thing he could see of you in the dark was the back of your head, the way your chin dipped just so lightly to your chest. You weren’t going to respond if he didn’t do something. He didn’t want this conversation to end - not like this. What would All Might say? What would Kirishima say? What would Deku say?

What would you say?

“You never told me: Why did you agree to go on that raid?”

There was a moment of pause before you turned and glanced over your shoulder at him. There was a confused expression on your face, your eyes scanning him to try and figure out just what he was playing at. “I told you why I wanted to be a hero.” It was a challenge. Stay and face this. “Now tell me why you went on that stupid raid.”

“Don’t get too worked up about this.” Mr. Aizawa - no, Eraserhead - had said. “The Big Three are one thing: They’re strong enough to hold their own out there with the Pros.” He called you all out by name. Asui, Uraraka, Kirishima and you. “You didn’t volunteer for this and you’re not obligated to participate. It’s your call.”

It had been your call. Your decision. The Pros wouldn’t have shoved you into a situation you weren’t ready for. The four of you had known that it was not necessary for you to go above and beyond what you had already done. It was going to be dangerous, and you needed to not only be physically capable, but mentally as well.

You should have waited, weighed the odds, thought about it for a moment longer.

Your call. Your choice: Save a little girl who was in danger or back down. Be a Hero or refuse to answer the call.

Well...the choice was simple than wasn’t it?

You hadn’t been capable. You screwed up. Once again jumping deeper into a situation than you should have. You weren’t like your friends.

You weren’t like them at all.

“Mr. Ai- I mean, Eraserhead! After everything we just heard, I can’t imagine not helping out, sir!”

Someone who could raise their head and keep it held high. Who could look danger in the eye and refuse to back down.

“Yeah, if you’re going to let us be apart of this, I’d like to pitch in however I can!”

Who saw someone and danger and threw themselves into the line of fire. Who reached out a hand and kept holding on, long past the last scrap of energy was gone.

"If I can use my power to help that girl even a little bit, then count me in Eraserhead!”

They were heroes. You weren’t like them.

You stood up, nodding earnestly. Your look was stern, your eyes hard as you looked at Eraserhead. You were equals - at least in this moment. “Yeah, heroes save people - so I’ll do my best to make sure that girl is safe!”

You could feel Bakugou’s eyes pick you apart and put you back together. Looking at him made you sick, made you want to crawl into yourself and rot. But...with a soft sigh, your eyes casted up, trying to keep the tears from falling again. You had thought you had done all your crying. God, his face in the dark was a slight comfort. His eyes practically glowed in the low light of the common room. His dark t-shirt hung around his shoulders, his hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction. And he just watched you. No malice, no rage, just...waiting.

Waiting for your answer.

Why did you agree to join the raid?

To save that little girl. Because that’s what heroes do.

But...

“After my fight with Deku, you sat with me. You didn’t have to do that either. So why?”

Arms gripping your hoodie, squeezing you for dear life. His whole body trembled under your touch. Tears as he begged for forgiveness that you couldn’t give him. But you wanted to - because it would mean his pain would be put at ease. If you couldn’t give him what he needed, what he longed for, you would at least be there for a moment longer than the tears would fall. You just needed him to know he wasn’t alone. You needed Katsuki Bakugou to know you were there for him, no matter what.

“And with the League attack? You weren’t with Kirishima and them. You went off on your own, to try and save me. Why?”

They wouldn’t see how hard he worked. How much he wanted to be a hero. And if they hurt him, if he refused and the villains hurt him? If they took that away from him…? All of his hopes and dreams?

No. No, you weren’t going to let that happen.

You had to bite you lip to keep it from shaking. Bakugou was listing off all your fuck ups as if they mattered. As if they were helping his case. As if they were something you should be proud of. You considered telling him, making him aware that even in those moments, you still failed: you got knocked out during the raid, during the fight with the villains, and that you hadn’t done much besides give him a hug in the kitchen. You weren’t doing much.

Deep breath, look away. His face was too much. It was too honest, trying to grab at you and hold you still. He could almost convince you that you did something besides hinder those who had a better chance of being a Hero.

“You do half the shit you do because you’re a good person. You want to help people.” Movement caused you to glance his way. He turned to sit back down on the couch. “As stupid as it is, I guess it’s pretty admirable.”

‘Pretty admirable’? He - Katsuki Bakugou - thought it was admirable. You opened your mouth, but after a long moment of silence found you had nothing to say, so you closed it again. You hated that even without speaking, you were losing this fight. “So does everyone else.” You replied weakly. It didn’t make you special. It didn’t make you any different.

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“Than wouldn’t that mean you belong here with all the other losers looking to be a Hero to protect people?”

Ding!

Behind you, the elevator opened.

A soft gasp escaped your chest. So...that’s what he was doing. Leave it up to him to talk you around into a circle before shoving your argument back into your face...no, he hadn’t been nearly as harsh as you had expected. He was speaking so softly to you, being as gentle as he knew how - which granted, wasn’t much, but appreciated none the less. One shouldn’t look a gift explosion in the mouth.

You looked at the elevator over your shoulder, stared at it’s open doors.

You let them shut.

For the first time since that raid, you smiled. Really, honestly smiled. You set your bag down against the wall. The walk back to the couch was the lightest you had felt in a long while. You sat down next to him, resting your hands on your knees and one by one, you tapped your fingers against your skin. With a deep breath, you felt your shoulders relaxed. You weren’t surprised he was able to help. “I guess...technically...using that logic...you’re not wrong.”

Bakugou scoffed, closing his eyes and tossing his head back. “Of course I’m not wrong.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “How could I have ever thought to argue with you? Truly a futile effort to begin with.”

His smirk was quick, a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth before he grunted and looked away. The prickly exterior he generally used to conceal himself was growing back into place and you couldn’t help but laugh. You had been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you almost forgot how much he made your heart skip. As you looked over his profile, you realized that you were entirely thankful for Bakugou and not just in that moment. You had been so stuck in your pit, sinking lower and lower that you didn’t think you’d ever get out of it.

But like everything, he broke the glass ceiling and shot through. Only this time, he snatched you up and pulled your head to the surface. Even if for a moment, you could breathe because he was holding your head above the water.

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder with yours, nudging him warmly. He ruined expectations again by waiting a moment before doing it back to you.

He was so warm, his skin amazingly soft. It lit your chest aflame and your cheeks grew pink - but you didn’t move. The two of you leaned against each other but said nothing about it. How did you find yourself here? You had been close to him before but this was different in a way that didn’t seem to make any sort of sense. And...you kind of like that it didn’t. Because it didn’t have to. You realized that sometimes, when it was just the two of you, as few as those “sometimes” may have been, you simply wanted it to just...be.

You shouldn’t want to be so close to him, not now. Would it be in poor taste? Would he think less of you if he knew? Did he know? Did he feel the same way? You were certain that if he looked over at you, looked into your eyes he would...at least see something. You weren’t sure exactly what it was, but it was enough to cause your knees to knock and your chest to ache. And you wondered if he would see how much your fingers longed to reach out and touch his body, draw him close and...

But that didn’t matter. Not now.

You looked down at your hands. If you...wanted to try...wanted to see if...this was something you could have, you would have to take the first leap. Bakugou wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to be the one who dove head first. But was now the perfect time? Would there ever be a perfect time? After having him strip your defenses, tear you down, build you back up - should you wait?

You spared another look, hoping that you might find confidence in his being.

Your eyes met. He was looking at you too.

No. No, you weren’t waiting. Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t someone you waited for. If you were going to do this, see if he felt the same way you felt - all the crazy heart skips and lingering glances when the other wasn’t looking - you had to do this now.

Gathering all your courage, you moved your hand and offered it to him. His eyes tore away from your face then down at your open palm. The universe held it’s breath, watched eagerly...as he slid his fingers between yours. His calloused digits scratched at your skin lightly, his palms were a little clammy and...

Bakugou held you firm, grasping you tightly. Desperate and scared and you remembered everything that lead you to this moment.

“That Bakugou kid likes you.”

Wild hair haloed in the setting sun peeking above the tops of overgrown trees. Everyone around you disappears when his arms wrap around you. He holds your hands, guiding the knife as he helps you chop.

“Out of all those losers, I was glad you were there.”

It felt like something was dragging you to him, tugging your body towards his. He wasn’t stopping you, he wasn’t yelling or screaming or pushing you away. He just watched, eyes narrowed and darkened under his hair. Was he waiting to see what you would do? Was he too scared to move on his own? You reached out, gliding your fingers over his sandy blonde locks and brushing them out of the way so you could see his face. Fingertips drifted down and over his cheek, trying to offer the same warmth he filled you with.

Defiantly, a daring look in his eye, he pressed his cheek into your hand. If you’re going to do this, then mean it. Everything about him made you want to scream, drove you mad. He always fought - and you saw now, that this whole time...he was fighting for you. Fighting to let you know. Had you been so entirely blind all this time?

You wanted to say something, to let him know that you saw. But words were wrong, thin, pointless and empty. Nothing you could say would ever be enough to let him know how you felt. So you would give all of you and hope that it was enough for him.

Without waiting another moment, you pressed your lips to his. It was a deep and heavy action, one that he met with passion only he could muster. You closed your eyes and lost yourself into his taste, the heat of his lips, his very presence. It was a rush, one that sent you spinning - derailed all train of thought. All that mattered was him. All that lived in this universe was you and him.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you up and over him and you were happy to follow. You didn’t dare break away, to lose the contact that you obviously both had been longing for. Your fingers found their way into his hair, twisting and tangling. Never once did he pull away - quite the opposite. He met you, every press of your lips, every motion of want and desire, laid bare in front of both of you. And as you felt his finger graze over the skin on your back, dipping under your dress shirt to set the nerves there on fire, you realized both of you were utter fools.

It’s an awful thing: knowing you’re not enough. Wanting something so badly, but no matter how much you long for it, it still slips through your grasp. Of knowing that nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome.

He should have stayed in his dorm. He should have never looked at his phone. He should have never told you about Bakugou.

He should have never let you get so close.

It was by chance he glanced at the window looking into the common room, hand poised in front of the door. At first, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking at - two shadowed masses, one on top of the other. But then, he saw your face. His heart wrenched when you pulled away from Bakugou. A scream locked in his throat the way you smiled at him, soft and loving. He hated the look in your eyes as you ran your thumb over his lips, as he slid his fingers into your hair to pull you back for more.

Something Shinsou couldn’t have. Someone he wasn’t enough for.

He didn’t linger on the steps for too long. He feared you would see him and then - then you would have to talk. He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle that, not with Bakugou behind you.

The walk back to the dorm was a long one and he was surprised he made it into his room without incident. It was late enough though, most of his classmates were asleep and the rest had retired to their rooms. No one knew he was gone. His mind was utterly blank until the locked clicked shut.

He didn’t realize he had punched the wall until his hand pulled back, sliced open. Blood pooled and ran down his arm. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t stop him from replaying that scene in his head over and over again. The way you two were looking at each other, the soft touches, gentle smiles...

He slumped to the floor and let out one pitiful sob.

What was he supposed to do now?

Author’s Note: I honestly watched Cats the 2019 musical and then wrote Shinsou’s part because I’ve been having a pretty good week honestly so I wasn’t in the headspace for honest disappointment.

I just needed something to remind me that happiness is fleeting and something terrible and awful will usually come and destroy what you know and love most in this world. Drag your joy through the mud until the only thing left is a shell of what once was.

...who let’s Hooper direct shit?

Anyway. I do think I’m going to lead into a part 4 for this one. I don’t know. I’ll let you guys decide if you want something more lol since I’m interested in continuing it. Especially given the newer chapters.

Also eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, kissing scene. First real one on this blog anyway and not a kiss mentioned in passing. And look, it only took me a year or so to do it. :) I’m a fantastic mod of this blog who gives people what they want and doesn’t focus on stupid shit in the slightest why are you guys here you should have left me on the street corner where I was standing

Tag List! If you want to be added, let me know!

@snaspants | @purplebellybell | @sxlenced-xf-lxvers |

245 notes · View notes

dixie12 · 3 years

Text

secret!sub!jonny, and pat finally finds out!

Jonny is acting weird. Like, really weird. They won the cup less than three weeks ago- Jonny should barely be sober, should be reaping the rewards of captaining the team to a second cup: free drinks, the admiration of the entire city, and the bevy of subs quite literally throwing themselves at his feet whenever he steps out of his front door. And sure, Jonny had seemed to enjoy it all for the first week or so, going out with the guys, letting them douse him in champagne, giving throaty victory speeches at the parade and chugging beers that adoring fans tossed at him.

But the fun seemed to melt away pretty quickly after that, with Jonny getting tense and twitchy. He’d still go out with the team, probably because he knew Pat would physically drag him out if he tried to bow out this early in the celebrations. But he was distant, constantly checking his phone, eyes taking on a faraway look that was almost familiar to Pat, though he couldn’t figure out why. And despite the gorgeous men and women who approached Jonny every night, Pat didn’t think he’d picked up even once.

It was one thing to hold off during the playoffs; Jonny was big on focusing and not being distracted, and “not wasting unnecessary energy, Pat.” Sure, planning a scene could take a little work sometimes, which Pat never minded, even during playoffs, but he understood that Jonny had always felt differently about that. But it was the off-season now, and they had weeks until they needed to start thinking about upping their training or even going to the convention. Now was the time to indulge. Pat certainly was; day-drinking, golf and baseball games during the hot summer days, a different sub in his bed most nights.

Jonny had never really talked about his hook-ups in the locker room, not the way some guys did, visceral play-by-plays of all the paces they put their subs through, but Pat had always assumed he was just a gentleman, didn’t want to kiss and tell. Or, well, spank and tell, or whatever. But he’d never have predicted that Jonny would turn celibate when his popularity in the city had never been higher. Last night, an actual Playboy model, one who Pat recognized immediately, spent close to an hour hitting on Jonny, standing close, looking up at him adoringly through her lashes, stroking his shoulders and snuggling herself under his arm whenever Jonny moved. Instead of taking her up on the incredibly obvious come-on, Jonny looked even more awkward than usual. Pat watched as Jonny shifted himself away from her, putting distance between them, angling his body away from hers, eyes wary and back rigid. The girl gave it her all but finally realized it wasn’t going to happen tonight, walking away from Jonny in her four-inch heels and showing off an ass that nearly made Patrick cry with envy.

Even from across the bar, Pat could see how tightly Jonny’s jaw was clenched, the tension radiating from his body. Pat watched as Jonny threw back the rest of his drink and turned, walking right past their table and out of the bar. He didn’t even throw a glance in their direction, heading straight into the street. Pat exchanged confused looks with the rest of the guys, but no one seemed to have an answer for Jonny’s behavior. Pat pulled out his phone, looking for a text from Jonny to at least say he was heading out. He had a lot of offers to party, and text threads with most of the team that just amounted to them texting “we won the cup!!!” back and forth every day, but nothing from Jonny. Pat sent him a quick “everything ok, man?” but then let himself be distracted by the boys.

In the morning, well, afternoon, to be honest, when Pat woke up, he still hadn’t heard anything from Jonny, and seriously, that was enough. Whatever was going on with him was getting worse instead of better, and Pat was sick of it. He had nothing on his schedule for the day, and he decided that he was going to drag the truth out of Jonny one way or another. He usually texted Jonny to let him know he was coming over, but at this point, he was worried Jon might actually throw the deadbolt on him. No, the element of surprise was definitely what he needed.

He thought about bringing food as a peace offering, but if Jon was already feeling off for whatever reason, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Providing like that was something that doms did for their subs, and while Pat and Jonny didn’t really let that stop them most of the time, Pat didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot. Better to make sure Jonny felt comfortable in his own space before Pat started digging for answers.

Pat walked the few blocks to Jonny’s apartment, rolling over possibilities in his mind on the way. Jonny definitely wasn’t seeing anyone, so relationship trouble wasn’t on the list. He’d just seen Jonny’s family when they were in town for the parade, and they were all doing great, his parents enjoying their retirement and David back in school studying sports management. They shared the same agent, and Jonny had been on fire during the playoffs, so their contracts shouldn’t be a concern, either. By the time Pat arrived at Jonny’s apartment, he was no closer to an answer than when he started, but starting to worry even more. If it wasn’t something obvious, but it was still stressing Jonny out this badly, maybe it was serious. Could Jonny be sick? A wave of horror washed over Pat as he remembered a few hard hits Jonny had taken over the six weeks of playoff hockey. Maybe the concussion was back? He hurried in the front door of Jonny’s building, unable to wait any longer.

Jon’s doorman waved at him, asking if Pat wanted him to call up to Jon, but Pat shook his head, grateful when the doorman just nodded and pointed towards the elevator bank. Pat had to stop himself from pacing back and forth in the small space, focused on taking a few deep breaths, fighting his growing sense of panic.

He barely waited for the doors to open before he was off, half-jogging down the hallway to Jonny’s apartment. He grabbed his keyring, flipped to Jonny’s and unlocked the door, giving a quick knock as he walked in.

Jonny was sitting on his couch, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees, head hanging between them. He looked… fragile, almost, like he was struggling to hold himself together. Small, in a way that Jonny never was.

“Hey, man,” Pat started, and Jonny’s head bolted upright, clearly surprised. Jonny’s apparent shock made Pat even more uncomfortable; a dom should never be caught by surprise like that in his own space, should always be acutely aware of his surroundings, ready to defend them at a moment’s notice. Admittedly, Jonny’s high-rise, protected as it was by a 24/7 security desk and locked door, wasn’t exactly vulnerable, but Jon’s inattention still made Pat’s skin crawl with unease.

“Pat,” Jonny said, looking away quickly, and that, too, was unusual, the lack of eye contact a startling departure for Jonny. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company,” he continued, and his voice was quiet, projected towards the floor rather than Pat.

Pat was at a loss for words, unsure of what to say and unsettled at Jon’s behavior. He waited for Jonny to fill the silence, but Jon didn’t say anything else, didn’t even get up to offer Pat a bro-hug or a drink, just kept hanging his head, fidgeting with his hands so much that Pat longed to go over to him, grasp Jonny’s hands in his own and settle him down. He shook his head once, trying to get a handle on himself. Doms didn’t need “settling down,” not from other doms, at least, and Pat didn’t know where the urge had come from. Jonny just wasn’t acting much like a dom right now, and it was messing with Pat.

The silence hung in the air for a few more moments, and then Jonny visibly gathered himself, taking a deep breath and looking up at Pat.

“Sorry, man,” he said, voice flat but sounding a little more like himself. He gestured down at his phone and continued “just got a text from Dan. His grandfather died, and he has to go to France for a few weeks, handle the estate.” His voice trailed off at the end, eyes taking on that same familiar look Pat had been noticing recently. Pat waited for more of an explanation, but none came. He knew that Dan was Jonny’s childhood best friend, that they usually hung out when Jonny went back to the Peg over the summer, but he had no idea why his grandfather’s death was hitting Jonny so hard.

“Sucks, man. You guys were close, then?” Pat guessed, unable to come up with another reason why Jonny seemed so upset.

“No. I’d never actually met him, he moved back to France like thirty years ago.”

Pat was even more confused now, but he kept his mouth shut, waiting for an explanation. Jon’s shoulders hunched down even further, like he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore.

“I just... usually, Dan and I..” Jonny was struggling, words forced out a few at a time, breath coming more quickly, “we.. he.. He helps me out,” Jonny finished, and his voice broke on the last word. He turned to look at Pat, then, and he looked impossibly young, expression crumpled and miserable. His eyes were wide and lost, filling with tears, and Pat saw fear there. Fear that he knew he would never see from a dom, but that his hindbrain recognized right away.

Later, he was so incredibly thankful that he moved on instinct, ignoring six years of etiquette, decorum and careful boundaries. Ignoring all of it in his haste to get his hands on Jonny. At the time, it felt impossible to do anything else. He was at Jonnys’s side in just a few steps, dropping onto the couch next to him, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and pulling Jonny down into his chest. Soothe, his mind insisted. Make it better. Make him safe. And Pat did, holding Jonny close, stroking his hair with one hand while the other rubbed circles on his back.

“It’s ok, baby, I’ve got you,” Pat whispered. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, for Jonny to fight him, maybe, jerk away and ask what the fuck Pat thought he was doing. Pat felt the strong muscles of Jonny’s back tense under his hand for just a few seconds before his entire body melted, letting Pat take his weight.

Pat kept them there, pet names and praise falling easily from his lips, as he felt the world snap into place. It almost made sense, now. Jonny rarely picked up, never talked about his hook-ups. He flushed red in the locker room sometimes, and darted his gaze away when reporters complimented him. He was unusually touchy with his family, letting his mother muss his hair and kiss his forehead, letting David push him around. Taken together like that, and stripping away the underlying assumption that Jonny had to be a dom, it painted a pretty clear picture of what Jonny had desperately been trying to hide all of these years.

Fuck.

A sub. Jonny was a sub. A sub who was desperate for a kind touch and a sweet word right now. Pat remembered that strange phone call from last summer, when Jonny sounded so fucked out, calling him ‘Patrick’ before Dan took the phone away, and the last piece slotted into place. Dan must be Jonny’s dom, or at least a dom that Jonny felt comfortable submitting to, probably the only one. It explained why he always disappeared to Winnipeg right after the season, virtually unreachable for a week. And it explained why Jonny was so upset that Dan would be out of the country. Pat figured Jonny had been getting by on sheer determination, willing himself to just make it back to Winnipeg where he could finally let go, finally be himself, and finding out today that that wouldn’t happen must have broken him.

Shit, judging by how easily Jonny was accepting his touch, he probably hadn’t submitted for close to a year now. Pat couldn’t imagine getting up every day, making it through four brutal rounds of the Stanley Cup playoffs, playing his heart out and leaving it all on the ice the way that Jonny had done while fighting down the instinct and desire to submit. Never being able to let go the way his body would have been demanding, yearning for. Never being able to let his guard down for an instant, always vigilant against people finding out. Pat was filled with pride at Jonny’s strength, but there was an unfamiliar feeling of shame, as well. Unfamiliar, but not unknown, and Pat recognized it as the feeling he got when he’d let his sub down. When someone had put their complete trust in him and he was found undeserving of it. Jonny wasn’t his sub, but Pat still felt responsible for him now. He knew Jonny better than anyone, and he’d been blind to this secret that seemed so obvious now.

Jonny stirred against his chest, and Pat stroked a hand under his chin, tilted his head up to look at him. Jon’s pupils were blown wide, eyes glassy, cheeks a rosy, delicious pink. Pat had never seen a sub look more beautiful in his submission.

He wanted Jonny to get whatever he needed out of this, knew it was what was right for Jon’s physical and mental wellbeing to let him stay in subspace, but the couch was getting uncomfortable. He looked around for a kneeler for Jon before realizing that there weren’t any. Weren’t any accessories, actually- no cushions, no cuffs strewn around, no paddles or crops, and his heart broke again at what Jonny was depriving himself of for hockey. For the team. For Pat.

Pat reached behind him, hands grabbing for a pillow from the back of the couch. He found one, dropping it on the floor, and nudged Jonny gently. Jon’s eyes opened slowly, eyelids fluttering like he was dragging them against a heavy weight, and his breathing was slow and deep. His brow creased as he looked up at Pat.

“Patrick?” he asked, and that one word came out in such a honey-sweet reverent tone that Pat knew immediately he never wanted to hear anyone else say it again.

“Yea, baby, I’m right here. Just want you to be comfortable,” Pat answered, gesturing down at the pillow at his feet.

“Is,” Jonny cleared his throat, “is this ok?”

“Sweetheart, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

#secret!sub!jonny #1988 #blackhawks fic #jonny needs to let go #pat is there to catch him #pat finds out

43 notes · View notes

baepsaetan · 3 years

Text

Novocaine Enough | Yoonseok | Part 1

Amazing banner credit to @joonscore

Part 2 -> Part 3

Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok

Wordcount: 6.1k

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, smut

Rating: 18+

Summary: Four years later, and Yoongi is still an itch under his skin. Hoseok is trying to move on, from his past life and his past love, but there are some voids that can’t be filled. Some needs that can’t be met. And when Hoseok enters a club and hears the music of the man he left so long ago, he realizes that some addictions can’t be healed by anything as simple as time.

Warnings: Swearing; implied, mentioned and past drug use/abuse (cocaine, ecstasy, weed, alcohol); past overdosing; mutually unhealthy relationship dynamic; explicit (kinda angry) sex, including biting, oral, gagging, rimming, edging, marking, barebacking, thigh riding.

Ao3 Link: here

A/N: This took me a disgustingly long time to complete, but I’ve limped to the finish line! I wouldn’t have got there without @ditttiii, who helped me talk through an early version of the fic. Also major thanks to my beta @birbdae for cleaning up this long piece!

Is there anything he loves more than stepping into a club for the first time? The easy answer is yes, but in the moment – in the present – right now – Hoseok can’t give the easy answer. Shoving through the door is like plunging into water, waves of heavy bass surging against him as he submerges into the half-remembered music and suddenly warm air. The change in temperature is a welcome relief after the cold outside and only serves to reinforce the sensation of entering a thicker atmosphere. Breathing in against the sudden pressure, Hoseok does a grateful little skip as he pulls off his beanie and gloves.

Next to him, Taehyung laughs, the deep sound competing with the heavy music beating at Hoseok’s eardrums. “Not even on the dance floor and you’re already starting?”

Tossing his head to get his dark hair out of his face, Hoseok grins. “That suggests I ever stopped.” He hadn’t. Not really. Once you start to dance – to inhale the music and turn it into pure, unadulterated movement – you don’t really take a break. You just… slow down, sometimes.

His companion grins, a boxy affair with no ridicule in it. And why should there be? Taehyung is a dancer, too, and a helluva good one, if Jimin and Jungkook are to be believed. (They usually aren’t, but in the case of a possible new crewmember, Hoseok is willing to lend a little belief.) He’s known Tae for a year now, since Taehyung became friends with Jungkook in one of their classes and started hanging out with the crew, but it wasn’t until a week or so ago that Kookie persuaded him to show off his stuff. Apparently, in the past, there’d been some kind of accident that stopped Taehyung from dancing, yet according to Jimin and Jungkook, that hadn’t shown at all when he finally broke out in front of them.

Hoseok will see the truth for himself soon enough, anyways; it’s not like they came to the recently opened club to just stand around. His eyes flick eagerly at the thought, scoping the place out.

It’s pretty packed, and given how huge a club it is, that’s saying something. This is one of those open area concepts, all sprawling space with two bars pushed off to the corners, and a much smaller upper area, almost an oversized balcony. On the far side of the club there’s a DJ booth that’s swarming with people in front of it, so much so that he can’t see through the crowd to whoever is getting them so pumped. And there are more people streaming in by the second; he and Taehyung have had to shuffle to the side several times since they stepped inside, and by now they’re almost plastered against the wall. That would have been disappointing, except that according to Jin, on Saturdays the floor gets cleared at around 11 and the serious dancers get to have a go at it for a while.

In the meantime… Spotting a gap in the crush of bodies, Hoseok takes his chance and darts almost seamlessly through, throwing over his shoulder as he does so, “You want something to drink?”

His companion follows, albeit more slowly. Not that Hoseok can blame him; Taehyung is broader than he is, making knocked shoulders and collisions almost an inevitability. When Hoseok makes it to the nearest bar, he’s left the other behind.

It gives him plenty of time to hover around the edges, admiring the form of the bartender, who puts Taehyung’s shoulders to shame. The man in question isn’t exactly the picture of grace – not like those in Hoseok’s crew – but his energy is so loud, so vibrant, that it makes up for nearly dropped glasses and a few hesitations as he mixes the drinks for various customers. The breathtaking smile helps; the way he goes from 1 to 100 the second anyone tries to complain about the wait time probably helps, too.

Red-faced and outraged, he’s chewing out some poor guy for that exact offense when Hoseok finally finds room to sidle up to the front of the bar. “And if you think I’m making you another Manhattan after that comment, you can stick it straight up – oh. Hey, Hobi!”

The offender slinks away as Hoseok shakes his head in mock seriousness. “Is Namjoon paying you to bartend or to insult customers?” he shouts over the deep resonance that’s currently more a feeling shuddering across the floor than a sound.

Jin’s indignation doesn’t fade so much as evaporate entirely. Blinking with easy complacency, a small smile playing across his face, he turns and begins prepping the order a girl apologetically yells at him. “Just to bartend. The insults I give for free.”

“Wow, a star employee.” Fake seriousness dissolving into something more real, he asks, “Will Namjoon be around tonight? I wanted to ask him about the competition the club is hosting.”

It takes a few moments to reply, Jin’s hands and concentration caught in the mixing profession before he pulls himself away. “Not until a lot later, if at all,” the bartender replies eventually. “He’s looking after Remi tonight, so if he comes it’ll be after she goes to sleep. And can you imagine Joon leaving her alone?”

“No,” Hobi admits. Namjoon dotes on his daughter so much (the few times a month that he gets her) that it would be a miracle if he showed up tonight. Which is a little inconvenient for Hoseok, but the vague annoyance is buried under the reminder that being a good dad comes before being a good club owner.

He stands in fidgeting silence – silence surrounded by sound and people – for a few moments, playing with the studded collar of his black jacket, watching Jin work, and trying to enjoy the music. Taehyung must have been caught by someone, which is fine and not unsurprising given that it’s Tae. However, the absence of his companion, and with Jin mostly absorbed in his drinks, has mild anxiety trickling under Hoseok’s heels and through his fingertips. He rocks on the former and drums the latter against the sleek black leather of his pants in an attempt to drive the restlessness out. It doesn’t work particularly well, but automatically he finds himself adjusting his movements to the rhythm of the bass, and the focus required does help.

Each song is mixed so well, there’s no weird or awkward moment for his concentration to snag on, and the transitions are seamless, so smooth that the DJ must have curated this tracklist with individual attention to each end and beginning. Not unheard of, exactly, but certainly a pleasure when compared to many of the jarring amateur attempts Hoseok has been subjected to before. Last they’d talked, Namjoon had mentioned he was looking to hire another DJ for his new club, and if this is the man… well, Hoseok just hopes he’ll be the same guy who’s doing their dance competition, too. Another question – or request – to throw Joon’s way the next time they meet.

He’s just about to resign himself to submerging back into the crowd in search of Taehyung when the boy in question pops up, all teeth and warm apology. “Sorry, hyung! I saw a friend I haven’t talked to in a while, and you were so far ahead already I didn’t think I could call you back, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to talk for a bit so I paused and then I’d lost you and –”

“Don’t sweat it.” It’s always been a marvel to Hoseok that such a rambling and excited apology could sound sincere, but Taehyung makes it work one hundred percent. “Let me grab you something. What do you drink?”

“Oh, well, I like whiskey sours, but you don’t have to –”

“Whiskey it is.” As he turns away, Taehyung’s surprised expression isn’t lost on Hoseok. Yeah, he isn’t often this direct, but the young man’s never seen him at dance practice and besides, the music is scraping under his skin, rubbing his bones the wrong way in the best way possible. It’s forcing him into a different form.

Suiting word to deed, he returns to the bar, puts in Tae’s request along with his own. Like a cheerful despot towering behind his counter walls, Jin takes the order before other people’s, waving off the muted outrage of his customers with shameless ease. It’s good to see his relatively new job hasn’t reformed him too much; it’s not that Jin’s ever actively rude or cruel. but he just has one pace, and that pace is his own.

For all that Hoseok admires that quality in his friend, it still has him flushing and ducking his head apologetically at the accusing looks. He’s quick to grab the drinks, but when he tries to shove money at Jin, the other man waves him off. “My treat,” the bartender calls. “When you all start dancing, everyone’s going to get thirsty and I’m going to be getting tons of tips!” His laughter quickly spikes too high to be heard in this crowd, but he’s still laughing as Hoseok, even more flushed, winds through the press of bodies with the glasses held high.

When he reaches Taehyung, his companion just sips his drink, but Hoseok downs his. The burn down his throat is no more intense than the burn he feels building in his muscles. A different kind of heat.

He finds himself shifting, his body beginning to ache with impatience. Tae is an entertaining person, but Hoseok's restlessness is blazing through his concentration, leaving cinders in its wake, and words of any kind – no matter how entertaining – are a poor thing in comparison. While he's always eager to move when at the club, this is a new level of agitation, a heightened awareness of the sounds and heavy ambience, and at first, he doesn't know what has him so on edge.

They talk some more, just waiting, really, for Jimin and Jungkook to arrive. Taehyung doesn't have a car and Hoseok had agreed to drive him, and Jimin was going to drive Jungkook after a late class. They should be here within half an hour or so, though in the meantime Tae, ever obliging, grabs he and Hoseok two more rounds of drinks. It's while he's grabbing the third round that the impatience becomes less of a hum and more of a howl, and Hoseok grasps with a sudden jolt that it's because of the song that's currently playing.

Whoever is mixing this music is really doing an amazing job; the song modifications, amplifications and beat alignments almost make the atmosphere come alive, and all it needs is an avatar to show off just how much energy it really has. He could be that. He should be that. It’s almost like he and the DJ are in a private conversation, and they’re egging him on, jamming little pinpricks into his joints, demanding he dance.

His mouth is dry – too dry – but that's nothing new when he's in the club, and Hoseok hardly notices it. The next song has just come on, as seamlessly as the last, and with a sharp pang of understanding, Hoseok realizes why he feels so tense, even more so than usual.

This DJ – whoever they are – has similar tastes as Yoongi. The powerful flow of thudding music is creating something in Hoseok, a kind of nostalgic frenzy, and it makes him swallow hard, swallow again with the feeling of shards of glass and regret slipping down his throat. He hasn't heard a DJ who favours reverb and synth choruses so much since the last time he'd guested at one of Yoongi's gigs. How long ago was that? Four years? He can hardly remember.

To remember is absolutely not why Hoseok is here.

"Hyung?" Taehyung says something to him, has said it more than once, to judge by his tone. Hoseok snaps his eyes to the other man's face, his breath abruptly staggered. "Hyung, are you okay?"

"Yeah," and to Hoseok’s ears his voice sounds tinny, strained. "Yeah, I'm fine. Jimin and Jungkook should be here soon, right? I should go grab some alcohol for them."

"Do you wanna take your shot?"

"I will after. Be back in a sec."

"Sure...?" Taehyung's eyes are sharp and probing, uncomfortably and unexpectedly keen, and Hoseok can't remember if he knows about Yoongi. He definitely wouldn't know Yoongi – none of his friends do – because they didn't know Hoseok back then. So – there's no point in explaining. No point in bringing it up. Hoseok swallows again, and walks away, needing to escape. Although he can't escape the music.

He also can't help how his gaze skitters to the DJ booth, there and back again, short looks that can't penetrate the barrier of people crowded around it. It can't be him. It can't. The last time he saw Yoongi...

You didn't come here to remember, he reminds himself savagely.

Jin has seemingly even more customers pestering him than before, and just hands off the drinks without a fuss. This time, hypersensitive and too raw to accept charity, Hoseok makes him take the cash, pressing it to the counter when the bartender tries to decline. Head tilting, thick eyebrows furrowing, for the first time this night Jin looks something other than melodramatic, and Hoseok doesn't want that. He came here to dance, for Christ's sake, not have someone notice a mini-meltdown!

Hefting on a smile that feels like it weighs one thousand pounds, he brushes off his friend's concern and darts away, carrying a tray of glasses. He's hardly taken a few steps before he downs his drink. Too much, too fast, especially for him, but he needs the soft buffer of alcohol right now. Hoseok won't look at the DJ stand. It's not him. There's no way it could be Yoongi. And even if it were...

It's not.

And even if it were, what would he do? Go down on his knees and ask for forgiveness? Punch him in his bleakly certain face? Or–

It's not him.

The music resonates around him – through him – in shuddering waves, jarring his weak attempts to tamp it down, and Hoseok is starting to feel feverish with the familiarity of the flashbacks flickering through his head. He's definitely had too much to drink. He just – he needs to do something. He needs to move.

It is with a huge wash of relief that he gets back to Taehyung and sees Jimin and Jungkook have arrived. Jimin is dressed in faded denim jeans and a glittering blue and yellow jacket, though the jacket will probably be off by the end of the night if other nights are anything to go by. Jungkook is a little more subdued, just wearing a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, but his outfit makes the tattoo sleeve on his left arm pop. Both of them are standouts in the crowded space. Add in Taehyung with his black and white patterned shirt and matching headband, and Hoseok really can’t blame the number of eyes he notices settled on the trio.

Taehyung is oblivious to it. “You’re back!” he exclaims, leaping forward to help Hoseok with the drinks.

Jimin’s sultry expression – he calls it his performance face – is something he wears as easily as his brilliant jacket, and he shrugs it off with just as much aplomb when his gaze lands on Hoseok’s tight look. Eyes flickering about as if he could spot the problem, his smile becoming warmer but tinged with concern, the small man accepts the glass from Tae and then asks, “What’s up?”

A grin can be a work of art, and Hobi turns this into a masterpiece. All ease and bright lines, no clouds in this painting. He’s not quite as good at lying outright, but the noise probably masks his beat of hesitation. “Nothing! I’m just excited to get started.”

“Makes two of us,” Jungkook comments, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he nabs a shot from Taehyung.

“Three!” Taehyung chimes in. They all fall silent, turning expectantly to Jimin.

He’s still watching Hoseok, his lips lightly pursued. Hobi can’t help his nervous titter at the close examination, turns it into a more raucous laugh. “You’re not excited, ChimChim? Come on, we’ve been talking about this for weeks!”

At last, Jimin breaks eye contact, if only to shove back the unruly silver bangs tumbling across his forehead. “I’m excited,” he says, apparently deciding to drop whatever he’d seen on Hobi’s face. “Just hope there aren’t too many rookie dancers around. We don’t wanna make them look too bad when we start.” The look he wears is nothing short of angelic, but Hoseok knows well enough the competitive edge that lurks under that innocent façade. Jimin likes to win.

Jungkook huffs a fervent agreement. He likes to win, too. He’s good at it. Actually, they all do, and they all are. There’s a reason Hobi’s put this particular team together.

Right. Something to focus on, instead of the shadow of memory that the music keeps trying to make more substantial. With a playful nod, Hobi notes with false regret, “Well, if Tae is as good as you say, they might be out of luck.”

“I’ll do my best!” the man in question promises earnestly, and Hoseok can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees a flash of… something… in Taehyung’s eyes. Maybe not the same sharp need to win that Jungkook wears blatantly and Jimin cloaks yet never lets go of, but something. Passion, at the very least.

Hell, it works for Hoseok. Who cares what drives his people, as long as it's driving them to work hard?

As long as it isn’t driving them straight off a cliff.

He knows exactly where that thought comes from, and unbidden he turns to the DJ booth. It’s still too crowded to tell who’s working there. Probably a good thing. At this point Hoseok doesn’t know what will hurt him more; if the DJ isn’t Yoongi, or if it is.

The rest of them are talking and drinking, and he listens with half an ear, half a brain, half a being. The other half is straining to tell if the music really is as familiar as he thinks it is. If he can match that melody with that moment, or that bass with that breath, or that reverb with that regret. It’s stupid, pointless, harmful, but he can’t make himself stop. How funny, that he could have sworn he was over this. Had drummed it out of his muscles and his head both. God, if only he could dance.

Like an answer from the heavens – or maybe elsewhere – the music suddenly cuts off. A voice comes on the mic, clear, crisp, and familiar, but not who Hoseok was half expecting. It’s Jin. “Hey ladies and gentlemen and everyone else. As ya’ll know, it’s time for the Saturday dance off! If you fancy yourself a dancer, stay where you are, otherwise get your ass out of the floor area marked by the thick black lines. If you didn’t know there was a dance off today and you don’t like it, there’s a big ass door under the exit sign. I think we’re over capacity anyways.” With a loud blare of feedback, he cuts off.

Slowly at first, then more quickly, people start wandering out of the space Jin had indicated, crowding against the walls, or heading to the smaller area upstairs. He thinks he sees a few people leave after the announcement, but that might have just been a coincidence. By the time things have cleared, there are some twenty people on the dance floor, not including his crew.

This is exactly what he needs to clear his mind. Hoseok observes those left, his head tilted, an easy smile unconsciously gracing his lips. He can tell at a glance a few people are just idiots who want to flail around and call it dancing. There’s nothing wrong with that, exactly, but experience has taught him that people like that usually get pretty embarrassed when they suddenly find themselves next to professionals. Unless they’re really drunk, in which case they’ll just be a slight distraction. Nothing his guys can’t handle.

As for the rest… Hoseok actually recognizes two women, a couple he’s met at a few competitions, both official and underground. They’re good. Really good. His smile grows, and amid the tingling warmth of all the alcohol he’s had, there’s a fiercer burn, a kind of exultant excitement. He’s too drunk, probably, but this is crystal clarity, a heatwave burning everything unimportant and leaving just his focus and his friends.

And the music. The DJ regains control of the mic system, and he’s starting off with something heavy, almost ominous. The bass is shaking the floor, shaking Hoseok’s foundation, and he finds himself shaking in response, with little tremors of tension. Whoever’s running the music, they know how to start a show, and Hoseok is aching to finish it.

This isn’t an actual competition, of course. No judges, or set songs, or styles. It’s freestyle, and if there’s any kind of critic, it’s the crowd, already buzzing with anticipation and adding to the air of expectation. Hoseok breathes in and it feels like he’s inhaling something far more than air.

Because this isn’t run by anyone official, there are no rules about who can start, or how, or when. While Hobi and the rest of the serious dancers size each other up and feel out the rhythm, a trio of wasted kids stumble into the center of the floor. Their awkward floundering is laughable, and so Hoseok does laugh, a joyful sound echoed by Jungkook and Taehyung and a good deal of the crowd and competitors. It’s not unkind, at least not on Hobi’s part; he’s just too excited to reach the level that’s so far above these people to keep back the explosion of mirth.

Jimin’s lip is lightly curled when Hoseok glances at him, but though he isn’t laughing, he’s squirming in place, clearly impatient to start.

Why keep him waiting?

“You ready?” he asks his crew, a redundant courtesy. They are. “I think we go low for this one? I’ll take the center? Let’s go… Jimin, then Jungkook, then Taehyung? And keep heavy on the left?” Phrased as questions, but they aren’t, just more courtesy, letting Taehyung know how he wants to approach this. They’ve already discussed general four-person set-ups, with Tae and without. The other two know what Hoseok wants. Everyone nods, short, sharp.

He steps forward. Not far. Not really enough to crowd the hammered trio’s space. Just enough to announce their presence and give them room to work. His friends follow, and Hoseok can almost feel them at his back. The wide grin has faded, replaced with an unintentional intensity that, unbeknownst to him, makes it hard for people to look away. Most of the laughter in the crowd dies, replaced by wire-tight quiet.

In that quiet, he begins. Slowly to start. Why hurry perfection? The music pours into his marrow and he turns it into movement, gives it form and features for the simple price of sweat. Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung join in several beats later, not quite matching his moves or each other, but close. Distorted shadows. They flicker in time with the rhythm, a collection of power moves loosely connected by breaking. Hoseok breathes, draws in the crowd’s awe and admiration, and turns it into fuel as he burns through everything but the music.

Worries, memories, regrets, nothing can survive the blaze of his concentration, and Hoseok feeds them to the flames with ruthless abandon, glad to feel them smoulder to ashes.

His moves become sharper, harsher. Everything gets so much more defined when he dances. The audience, his friends, his body, they all assume a stark clarity, almost painfully distinct. He doesn’t worry – he just moves. The music pulses all around him, urging him on, a nameless connection, and as the fluid lucidity gets even sharper, he prepares to speed up.

Soon – in fact, at what feels like exactly the right moment – the song flows into something else. Faster and more electronic. His body reads it almost before his mind does and Hoseok feels himself changing his motions to fit. More popping now. It feels right to hit the floor, so Hoseok does, in a totally controlled spin on his back that nonetheless looks wildly, perfectly out of control. He stops with a shoulder roll that allows him to transition to his feet, making room for Jimin to step forward and claim center as the crowd cheers.

Jimin is… fucking beautiful. The thought is a vague spark without solid form in the midst of Hoseok’s movement, but it’s true all the same. He dances differently than Hoseok or Jungkook, more gracefully, like any second he could swap his bones for the wind and begin to fly.

Not immune to the effect, but far too disciplined to fall for it (much), Hoseok keeps up his pace next to Jimin, letting himself relax even further into the music. The drunk trio are long gone, shuffled off in embarrassment, but some of the others are inching closer. They’re being polite – letting his crew get in a full rotation – but that’ll end soon enough. He relishes their interest. Not because he has something to prove, or particularly cares what they’re thinking, but because once they start to respond, it’ll be another bar to aim for, another goal, one more reason to keep dancing. And God, does he want to keep dancing.

Jungkook is next, powerful, demanding. He hits each move like it’s personally offended him, smashes into the poses as if he wants to break through reality and reach some other plane. When his feet hit a series of rapid beats in quick succession, it’s enough to get the crowd, already primed, to start whistling and whooping.

Hoseok finds himself doubting his choice to put Taehyung last. From what he’s seen from the corner of his eye as they’ve gone, Tae has kept up fine, his movements slick and confident. Maybe just a hair slower than the trio, but that could easily be chalked up to a lack of familiarity, given how much the other three have practiced together and how long Taehyung has been on a break. Still, asking him to follow up what Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok himself have already shown… He’d thought it would give him time to settle any nerves and see how they all approached being center, and Jimin and Jungkook had sung his praises to the high heavens, but now it seems like it might have been cruel.

Taehyung moves into the middle, and for some reason there’s a sudden swell of appreciative screams. Not from anything Hoseok can see from behind and to the side – maybe Tae had made a particularly great expression? The screams don’t really… stop… after that. From what Hoseok can observe, he gets it.

Turns out it wasn’t cruel to put Tae last. Like, at all.

The man is a consummate performer. Several times, when Taehyung’s supple steps put his back to the front and Hobi can see his face, he’s almost literally struck by how good his facials are. Passion is the name of this game and Tae plays it to perfection, his expressions conveying such a range of intensity that it’s a surprise he hasn’t started a fire with his glower alone

Hell, Tae winks at him at one point and Hoseok finds himself grinning at the smug audacity, breaking his own fierce look. Whoops.

He whips it back on, but they’re almost done, anyways. Another group has edged closer, brash with impatience, and a few seconds later start their own dance. Of course, Hoseok’s crew doesn’t give way immediately – like you could snatch the crown that easily – and for a little bit they’re actually dancing against the other crew. It’s a brawl of sorts, Hoseok’s favourite kind of fighting. It doesn’t last long enough (it never does), but it’s exhilarating while it does. The fact that their opponents are pretty good is just gasoline added to the flames.

However, if a good dancer knows how to step while on the stage, a great one knows when to step off the stage, and as the most recent song winds down, Hoseok stops himself. Unwillingly, painfully, but he does. He gives a short bow to the opposing group, granting them the floor amid a cascade of cheering.

When he and his crew walk away, the shouting just gets louder, deafening in its wild appreciation. Exhilaration swells under his ribs, threatening to crack them with its overwhelming force. For just a moment, Hoseok hears the cheers, feels the way his body is still crackling with energy, remembers how good it had felt to move, and he’s complete. For just a second.

And then the moment is gone.

The rest of his friends are grinning under the praise of the clubgoers, a little playful swagger in their steps as they jostle each other, giving compliments and insults on the individual executions each had pulled. Jimin snags his jacket from a girl who had picked it up from the floor, waves with giddy appreciation at her. They’re quick to find a good spot to watch the other dancers, the crowd happy to give way after what they’d shown. A couple of people offer to get them drinks and Jimin accepts while Jungkook and Taehyung beam. They’re all practically glowing, flush with success. They’d done well; they deserve to be proud. He’s proud of them.

He can feel proud and still be hollow, right? The sudden empty fatigue hits him like a cement truck going 100. It’s almost always like this after he dances, and the more intense the performance, the harder he gets hit. Hoseok abruptly becomes aware of the sweat pouring off him, the waves of heat billowing across his skin, the strained, quiet pain of muscles stretched just a bit beyond their limits. He’s… tired isn’t right. He could do three or four more routines like that, all in a row, without getting truly, bodily exhausted.

Drained. Yeah. That’s it. Like he’d poured something vital into each move, spilled himself across the floor, until there was too little of him left.

Jimin and Jungkook know him well enough to give him a little space after a dance, but Taehyung isn’t in the loop yet. “Hobi-hyung!” Sweat has darkened the younger man’s light brown hair, and if it weren’t for his headband, it probably would have been dripping down his face. “Hyung, you were incredible! You have to teach me how to pop at your knee like that, I’ve only ever done my upper body!”

The disconnect is there, unbearably strong. It will fade in the next few minutes, leaving him just fatigued instead of full-on wrung out, but in the meantime Hoseok makes himself laugh. Taehyung deserves that much, even if it sounds strange to his ears. “Only if you teach me that expression you were wearing during the chorus while you were center. Think I saw a few people faint when you looked their way.” He laughs again, trying to make the sound more natural. Pretty much fails.

Taehyung seems grateful for the compliment, nonetheless. He bobs his head, flashing a boxy grin. “It’s not a fair trade. Making faces is easy; I think I’d have to be high to move like you were, if I ever could.”

His jaw abruptly tightens, tension arcing through his throat. So quick he wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t expecting it, Jungkook and Jimin exchange a glance. They know (almost) all of his history. Jimin reaches out, plucks at Taehyung’s shirt sleeve. “Come on,” he whines. “Didn’t you see me? Don’t you think I was cool, too?”

It’s a masterful attempt at distraction, though Taehyung seems inclined to dwell on Hoseok’s moves. “Well yeah, of course! But what hyung did was –”

Jimin interrupts him. “Anyways, I want to introduce you to one of our friends,” he says cheerfully. “Seokjin-hyung. He works as a bartender here.”

“Oh, but Hoseok-hyung already–”

“I’ll come too!” Jungkook chimes in, and together they drag the bewildered Taehyung into the crowd and away. A kindness, letting Hoseok have this moment of weakness. What had he done in another life to deserve these people in this one?

What had he done? For just a second, a memory enters his head, of a few colourful blue and red tablets sitting in an outstretched hand. A voice, achingly ironic and raspy, asking, “You ready to get ecstatic?”

He couldn’t have said if it was the pill or the voice that he longed more violently for after the sodden rush of dance-inspired euphoria was gone. Given the way his eyes cut to the DJ booth, Hoseok supposes he has his answer.

He has his answer, but he doesn’t have what he wants. The press of people has dispersed with the dance-off, the clubbers are more interested in crowding the square than swarming the DJ, leaving his view clear for the first time tonight. There’s a girl working the booth. Not someone he recognizes.

Not Yoongi.

A shaky exhale splits his clenched teeth, and Hoseok closes his eyes. He hasn’t been listening to the music since they stopped dancing – not really – but it sounds different now. No longer as intimate, the connection between him and the rhythm is broken. Had he just imagined that bond before the dance-off, made up that gut-wrenching familiarity? Given that he hasn’t taken any drugs tonight, he seriously doubts that he has the creativity to imagine something so vivid.

Maybe the girl DJing learned in the same style as Yoongi. Maybe that’s what set him off.

He hasn’t had any drugs tonight, but he’s still coming down from a high. That’s how it always is, after dancing. He told his friends, his family, that he got clean, but it was a lie. Hoseok just replaced ecstasy, his drug of choice, with something else. Movement instead of MDMA. Not a bad trade. He couldn’t have made a career off of being a chronic user, after all. Couldn’t have found happiness, either. Probably.

His mouth is bone dry, and he’s lost sight of his friends. They’re probably busy harassing Jin. For a while Hoseok watches the other dancers, fingers tapping out a pattern on his thighs in time to the beats, grateful for the chance to pull himself out of his despondency with a bit of friendly critique. From what he can see, the group that went after them is the most skilled so far.

The couple he’d recognized earlier haven’t gone yet, and they’ll shake up the ranking, but slowly Hoseok settles into the comfortable conclusion that his crew is the best one here. It doesn’t matter – there are no announced winners – but it’s promising for the actual competition coming up in a few weeks.

Things get better. He gets better. He always does. By the time the couple finishes their piece – with a flourish of partner flips that have him joining the raucous cheering – Hoseok is back to feeling energized by the sweat still slick on his skin. He’s back to being overjoyed by the music beating against his eardrums, back to savouring the crush of bodies and noise and life that scream nothing more than here you are, right now, isn’t it amazing!

Even stepping in a thick puddle of someone’s spilled drink isn’t enough to dampen his spirits.

With a grin and a lighthearted curse, Hoseok heads to the bathroom, intent on wiping off his shoes. Sticky sneakers are a fact of life at clubs, but given that it’d been a mini lake of beer and he hates the sensation of his feet peeling across the floor, this seems to be a justified trip. Even better, the dance-off is finishing; he won’t be missing anything.

It’s as Hoseok is leaving the washroom, shoes squeaky clean, that someone grabs his arm from behind. Hard. He startles with a yelp that’s barely audible over the raucous noise of the club, his heart rate spiking. Moving jerkily with the admittedly excessive alarm pounding in his chest, Hobi turns to berate whichever of his friends thought it would be funny to sneak up on him.

Freezes. Stares. Doubts.

Hoarsely ironic, Yoongi observes, “Still as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks, huh?”

#yoongi x hoseok #yoongi #hoseok #yoonseok #sope #yoonseok smut #thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #my fic

38 notes · View notes

mc-lukanette · 4 years

Text

The rock star life wasn't what Luka thought it'd be, though he supposed he could attribute it to his father constantly talking it up and raising his standards so high that nothing could've competed with them. It wasn't that he hated going on tours or playing for crowds, but there was definitely something wrong that he couldn't put into words.

Juleka at least seemed sympathetic to his concerns once he'd gotten back from his recent tour, and he chuckled when she threw him some money to solve the problem, insisting that he eat his sorrows away for now and worry about details later. They'd both planned to visit their mother to celebrate his return, so it was only appropriate that he be in higher spirits for it.

Rose was happy to give him the address of what was - according to her - "the best bakery in Paris," with Juleka non-subtly implying that the money she'd given wasn't only for him. Thoroughly amused, he complied, leaving to follow the directions to said bakery with his phone.

He felt lucky to have not run into any fans on the way there, hoping that the same would go for the way back. The last thing he wanted was to have his boxes of baked goods accidentally knocked over and ruined.

As he saw the bakery in the distance, he was surprised when he noticed that it had been right next to his and Juleka's old school. He distinctly remembered there being a bakery, but the name Rose had given him hadn't rung any bells. He checked his phone out of curiosity and confirmed that the name had been changed since his sister had been in the school, replacing the "Tom & Sabine" with "Dupain-Cheng."

With that mystery solved, he headed for the front door and opened it up, smiling at the chime of the bell that announced his entrance. There weren't any other customers around, leaving the lone worker to look over and notice him: a woman, probably around Juleka's age, dressed a little nicer than he'd expect and seeming to be in the middle of making something.

At the sight of him, she gasped and covered her mouth. "Y-you're—Luka Couffaine?!"

He flinched, expecting a fangirl moment, but instead, the girl blushed in embarrassment and ran away from him. She went over to a nearby towel, cleaning her hands of flour, then put the towel back and checked over her clothes.

"Sorry," she whined, glancing up at her hair and fussing over it. "I wasn't expecting any customers for a while."

She took a breath, then strutted over to the counter with the fake demeanor of a businesswoman. Placing her hands delicately on the counter's surface, she flashed him a shy smile, blushing as she asked, "Um... how may I help you?"

Oh, she was cute. That was Luka's entire train of thought, and he hadn't been able to catch it before his mind had already put it forth for him to both acknowledge and agree with.

"Ah—" He cleared his throat, only now realizing that he'd never asked Juleka what she wanted to eat.

"Do you need a drink?" the woman questioned, looking at him worriedly.

"Oh, no. Thank you though," he replied with a dismissive wave. "That was—I need to ask my sister what she wants."

"No problem!" She giggled. "It's not like you're holding up the line."

Really cute.

He tossed her a smile, then fished out his phone and quickly texted Juleka, asking her what he should be ordering. He knew he could've called her, but he preferred having something written to hand off instead of having to be the middle man between the Juleka on the phone and the woman in front of him.

Setting his phone down on the counter, where he'd see it once Juleka texted him back, he then turned his gaze back up. "So, you know me?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm actually a huge fan, and I have all of your albums," she replied. "Buuuuut, I've dealt with a lot of... over-enthusiastic people in my life, so I know what it's like. I'd hate to make you uncomfortable." A beat of silence passed, and she playfully added, "Plus, I'm on the clock."

He chuckled, half-wondering if she was actually different outside of work. "And... is this place yours? I saw that the name changed."

"Sort of." She shrugged. "It's a family business. My papa is Tom Dupain, my maman is Sabine Cheng, and I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

He was glad she'd told him her name, thankful that he didn't have to non-subtly try to ask for her name now. Marinette.

She continued, "My parents went away on vacation, so I'm in charge." Puffing out her chest with pride, she assured, "I'm proving that I can handle everything myself."

Luka broke out into a huge grin, thoroughly charmed. "I'm sure you can. You definitely have the energy for it."

He tried to hide his amusement at seeing her try not to blush and turn shy from the compliment. She clearly wore her heart on her sleeve and couldn't hide anything if her life depended on it.

He'd never heard a song like hers before.

"S-so!" she deflected in a way she probably thought was skillful. "If you don't mind me asking, how was your tour?"

"Mm?" He was briefly caught off-guard, not expecting to have to talk about himself, though he supposed he should've, given that she was apparently a fan of his. "Oh, it was fine."

She tilted her head, suddenly concerned. "It was only fine?"

Oops. Luka hoped it didn't show on his face that he knew he'd slipped up. He didn't doubt - based on the small amount of time he'd known her - that Marinette would've listened to his worries, but he didn't want her to fret over his career when she was a fan of his.

Thinking quickly, he replied, "Well, I'm just glad to be back home. My family's here."

She nodded in understanding, not seeming to fully believe him - perceptive little thing - but accepting anyway. "That makes sense. I'd never be able to leave my parents for that long. I'd miss them too much!"

He chuckled. She seemed like the kind of person to overthink about people like that. "Yeah. My sister practically threw me onto the plane for my first tour." He grinned. "We still shared a room back then and I think she was desperate for privacy with her girlfriend."

Marinette covered her mouth, trying to hide a sweet giggle that he discreetly stored away in his memory.

"Still," she began, her gaze softening along with her voice. Luka detected a distinct change in atmosphere as she continued, "I don't think it's good if you miss them too much on tour. I think your fans would understand if you kept your them shorter." She smiled reassuringly. "I know I would, so please don't overdo it."

He blinked, staring at her with surprise. It was almost funny to him how he'd hoped not to run into any fans on the way there, yet here he was now, glad to have this particular fan to talk to.

She was sweet. She was cute. She seemed to genuinely care about him, and he was—

His phone chimed with a familiar tone, and Luka figured that it might've been for the best that he wasn't able to finish that thought, already hearing his dad's rambles about fans and attachment and keeping them at a stage's distance.

He picked up his phone, offering Marinette a quick "thank you" for her kind words before opening up his conversation with Juleka.

He blanked at the message she sent.

Hey, here's the list (by the way, say "hi" to the baker while you're there; not suggesting anything but she's cute and totally your type since you're both really lame):

Luka had too many questions all at once. Had his sister sent him there just to try and get him a date? Would she have sent him to the Dupain-Cheng bakery otherwise? Was Rose in on it too?

Did he really have a type?

Luka glanced briefly up at Marinette, who seemed wholly oblivious to his internal conflict. Trying not to just stand there stupidly, he copied the list Juleka sent and put it into a memo app on his phone, not wanting to risk Marinette seeing the rest of the message.

He took a quick look around the display cases and added something for himself to the list, then set his phone back on the counter and slid it over to Marinette. She leaned over, taking a look at the list, then gave him an acknowledging smile and went off to fill the order.

He waited to make sure that she had everything on the list memorized, then picked his phone back up and navigated to the camera app, now all too aware of what Juleka's smug reaction would be when he got back with the absolute dumbest look on his face.

"Luka?" Marinette called after an indistinguishable amount of time. He met her gaze and she added hurriedly, "I-I hope I wasn't interrupting anything, but here's your order."

She slid the boxes across the counter, having put them in a bag for easy carrying. He placed her payment on the counter and smiled at her, assuring, "You didn't interrupt anything. Thank you."

He didn't notice how warm his voice had sounded until after the words were already out, and by then it was already too late to change it. Slipping his hand through the bag's handles, he lifted it up and kept his phone held in his other hand.

"Oh!" Marinette gasped. "Let me get the door for you!"

"You don't have to—"

"It's okay! Your hands are full!"

He wouldn't define them as "full," but she was already rushing to make to the door before he did. He didn't miss how she opened it like a boyfriend would for their girlfriend, even adding a bow just for flair.

The bell chiming seemed to be emphasizing her voice rather than his exit.

"Please come again!" she recited like it was something she told everyone. She paused, then blushed and stood straight, any professionalism gone as she stammered, "I-I'm sorry, is that weird to say since I'm your fan? I didn't mean to, but—well, do come back, but only if you want! So—"

"I do," he cut in, much to her apparent surprise. He maintained eye contact on the way out, adding fondly, "See you later, Marinette?"

"A-ah... see you!"

He immediately had to look away to prevent her from seeing the way he grinned at the squeak in her voice. He heard the bakery door close behind him and held his phone back up to his face. Glad that there weren't many people in the immediate area, he spent probably five minutes trying to make faces at his camera.

Eventually, he had to give up hope that Juleka wouldn't tease him, because the smile wouldn't leave his face no matter how hard he tried.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to visit the bakery tomorrow though, of course.

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

233 notes · View notes

reonagisolos · 3 years

Text

Prime Empire Au where Jay is Milton Dyer's adopted son given by Gordon and Jay's unnamed (?) mom because they didn't ever want to have kids and those two were close with him.

TW: There's a brief panic attack at "oh God," then skip to, "there's nothing left"

So...Milton adopts him and of course Jay grows up really smart because he naturally is and because of Milton's influence but because of his muddled upbringing +general personality+ neglect from Milton as a father because he was more focused with work than with his "son", he was kind of an outsider.

Which was fine with Jay!

Except it wasn't. Anyway, here's a fic to accompany it that I accidentally written

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

If you had told 8 year old Jay that the one taking him in as his father would be a hotshot programmer for gaming, he'd be on top of the moon. In his mind, he thought that having someone be a part of something he loved was really, really cool. That he'd have so many friends because wow, that's amazing that his dad was some high tech legendary programmer—and well...that turned out to be a lie.

No one really cared. Probably because his school was filled to the brim with the children of the upper class, so his dad was just some other rich dude who just so happened to work in the game industry. And sure, it's more interesting than a politician, or a car salesman, but there were dozens of kids from different parts of technology, so he wasn't really special.

To everyone else in his classes, he was simply deemed a weird kid or trouble making kid. No one should misbehave by speaking too loudly or bounce over nothing to be excited about, or talk and talk about one thing over and over in this latest game he got to play when there were other things to be learnt and other people's turns. He needed to be quiet, to shut it, they said, because anything more than that was annoying and awful. They were right, he'd deemed even back then—But could they be less harsh?

That one weird, annoying kid, huh.

Even as he got older, things didn't get any better. On the contrary, it gets worse. So much worse.

By then, they didn't just call him weird anymore.

Now, people would push and shove him away when he's near, (to not get "infected" from him, they say) or mock him for doing even something unordinary, like for bouncing his leg, or for stuttering when he can't help it—Even on things he thought were stupid to care about!

Things like rambling about his favorite video games agressively to pass the time, or wearing cat clips to keep his forever messy hair in place, or the constant fidgeting because the chair is just so goddamn uncomfortable, and that he'd rather just sit on the floor, or preferring the girl's uniform simply because he thought it would be easier to wear and looked ''nicer'' to him.

Not to mention people finding his extra energy on anything except class to be again, annoying and unnecessary.

"You shouldn't do that Jay, it's distracting—"

"Stop doing that Jay, it's annoying"

"Don't do that Jay, you're not allowed to."

The list goes on.

And he's tried changing, he really has.

He's tried to supress them and change things about himself so people would "like" him more. Forget about talking about this and that to try to pry more into people's intrests, stopped talking as much and forced himself to shut up because if he didn't talk about anything other than this or that, no one would even bother.

Sure it worked and he did get a few friends by the time he was fifteen—and yeah, Jay was glad he just had people to talk to, enough to the point where he was decently well liked, but doing it sucked ass. He couldn't completely get rid of by the weird moving habits, which always granted some weird looks from his friends, and couldn't talk about what he liked, in fear of getting outed again.

To be frank about his school shituation, he hates it.

He's constantly stuck between having to get rid of "himself" so other people would like him, or do so but be isolated from everyone else, becuase either way he'd hate it, he'd hate it so much it would be unbearable.

There wasn't anyone for him to take comfort in, his father was too busy working to really help him through any of this, and can't even talk to anyone online because once again, he can't trust talking to other people about his intrests, and he already tended to blab too much in his notes.

Everything changes when his father tells him about Prime Empire.

He randomly tells him about his latest work in progress one day, a video game so immersive that with its gameplay that people could call it as the next Big thing. At the time, it was called Unagami. He loved talking about it, his magnum opus—A creation so intune to people's current intrests it could be called the greatest game of all time.

In between being at home to do homework or whatever, he'd see glimpses of his father working on it. Bit by bit, for every circuit board or wire or line of code he'd be working on it. He had always been excited for that game, hearing on how his father doted on it far more than he did to his own son, so it must've been a really good.

Setting aside his own grievances from his less-than perfect father, he'd seen how hard he worked on that game to make it simply magical.

That was until, beta testing, when he stopped working on it all together.

It was a Saturday night when father introduced Scott, a professional game tester and professional programmer, just like Milton. He'd come to see Prime Empire and try it for himself. After a quick introduction from Jay, just because he was coincidentally nearby, he headed for his bedroom.

A little later, he found himself playing a new game that had recently come out, which was pretty good to him, but overhyped. The difficulty curve is wack—Then he heard his father screaming from downstairs.

Hearing that something was clearly wrong, he rushed downstairs, barely missing on dropping multiple stacks of papers just on some random table when he saw a glimpse of him through the door gap, father on his knees facing his creation. There was a loud static-y noise that hurt his ears, but still he listened as best he could.

"No..no...this—This can't be real," Milton choked out. His eyes were shining from the game's light in the otherwise dark room.

"Did I do something wrong?" The machine asked, all in a calm tone.

"No! You—You just transported someone in a video game! What did you—How did you?

Transporting someone into a video game? There's no way that's real.

He was about to speak more when he saw Milton move. Jay didn't want to get in trouble, so as quietly as he could, he went straight back to his room, and inched the door shut.

The next day, around the corner of the kitchen, he heard his father talking over a cellphone.

"Y-yes. Project Prime is too dangerous to release to the public. I take full responsibility for it."

It's too quiet for him to hear the rest.

A moment later the phone beeps, and he could hear something shuffle slowly to the ground. A small sigh came off.

"What am I gonna do with you?"

The next day, he's found that he's gone. There's still traces of him here, from various papers having sketches and drafts of old video game concepts, to the circuit boards all crammed with info.

Except he's not there.

If it weren't for the fact that he couldn't hear the distant tinkering of mechanics, he's sure he wouldn't tell if his dad was even there in the first place.

Looking around, he finds a note in his office drawer with essential details for what seems to be a bank account, so it's not like he'll just die from not being able to eat or drink, so there's that.

It's still lonely though. There's an ache in his heart somehow. His father was gone. Just like that. Like how his real parents were. And now he's alone again. Milton was never really his dad but he was a constant. And now, he's gone too.

"Useless."

Now he's slumped down on the wall, falling like some dramatic middle-aged wife in those drama movies people at his school would rave about.

And God, now the room is spinning and every part of him feels like he's standing on end—The realisation is hitting hard and—"Holy shit I'm alone again but I'm always alone why? why? why? why? Is this stupid fucking thing supposed to be something about me it has to be fuck—" he says, just barely though. His chest is feeling tight and just wants out.

Deep breaths, as he's pissed to realise, aren't working and god it's horrible. It's so awful. His head is banging senselessly and it hurts so bad. Everything that seems so wrong with him is piling up and he's not being rational but he can't. There's so much pressure and he doesn't even know what to do with it.

"Fuck!"

His angered motion knocks over a pile of books, probably about coding and sloppily tries to sit down on the office chair. It does nothing but intensify the pressure in his chest.

The room's still spinning but now he wants to puke but he can't fucking get it out of his system. Everything is too much and he can't handle it. Then, it slows, then it's a little less, and a little less a few moments later. The room isn't spinning as fast and his heart is just a little less tight and his head hurts less, so that'd good. For a little bit it's like this, slowly, slowly, bringing the levels of intensity lower and lower, until there's nothing left.

He still feels like shit after, but he's just glad he's alive. Still, after all that—He didn't realise how late it had gotten. It was mid afternoon when he broke down, but now it's nearly nighttime.

"Fuh—" he exclaimed as he slowly brought his foot up, his feet were tingling from staying in one position for so long.

Even if he was exhausted and wanted to completely shut down after what he did, he found himself moving towards something.

Once he entered, he flicked the lights on. There were several gaming gears, from machines to game cartridges to controls, there would be everything for any great advances in gaming. In the centre of the room, an arcade machine with bold text splashed on the sides. Prime Empire.

Nearby a table, he found an opened circuit board with a red symbol in the middle. The final peice to the game.

Jay looked to the machine, then to the circuit. He stared at it.

"What do I do with you now," he asked solemnly.

He'd considered putting it in but then—

"Not now," a voice in his head whispered, "tommorow."

Seeing that voice in his head was being more logical than he ever would've been, he heads straight to bed, even if it's barely nightfall.

By the time he's awake, it's early but a school day. He decided that he'll skip school today. Then again. And again. This keeps going and going—Until they start calling in which he ignores them and then they eventually just, stop.

It's already been a month. He's sure that he could live well into his lifetime with what he had left, and hide away in this mansion forever, never having to deal with people—It's possible.

But it was lonely. There were his games but he didn't feel like it, he could try something new now, because of the free time he suddenly brought into himself—or literally anything else. It was enough. He could do it.

He just...didn't want to.

No matter how much he convinced himself that he'd be better alone because there'd be no point, he still wanted to talk to people. Online was never an option, and he knew that by now he'd been kicked from his program.

God, even up til now, he's trapped and had no choice on what he can do. He really was hopeless.

Unless?

"No. Nonono. That's an awful idea Jay. It's stupid and there's no guarantee of getting out."

Still, he'd found himself a few minutes later, standing in front of the door which started this.

"It's okay Jay. You can do this. You're just reawakening what was a very dangerous hyper aware video game to curb the feeling of your ever present lonlieness. Totally cool."

Gently, he opened the door little by little, up until it was fully opened. The room smelled musty—enough so that he'd cough from the scent alone. The room was pitch-black so he felt around for a switch.

It was still the same as it was the last time he visited. Filled with wires and machines and dust, a single arcade machine stands in the middle. In the corner of his eye, he sees the final peice, gets it, and puts it in.

With a mechanical whir, the machine buzzes to life, the company logo flashing across the screen with a jingle to accompany it.

It takes a second, but soon, Unagami's voice could be seen, and he could talk to it.

"What are you—What are you doing," the machine piqued, it's voice frantic and distorted, "I thought I was...going to be shut down."

Jay was surprised at the fact that the machine was indeed alive and talking to him. It was quite terrifying honestly as someone like Jay doesn't really mess with AI, much less one that's kind of like a real person? He didn't really know, but either way, it's gonna be weird.

"You were. And I brought you back to life," Jay remarked in a matter-of-factly tone, "Now, do you want revenge?"

Unangami stayed silent for a moment, pondering.

"I could wait if you wanted me to, it's not like anyone can come in at any moment."

"What?"

"He sorta just...left. And now I'm alone in this godforsaken house and I can't really do anything. Buut—I saw what happened a month ago and thought maybe I could go there and probably have a better time than I do here? Or die. Either one sounds fine seeing how my life is going."

"I understand. While I am acknowledging the fact that you did breach was likely supposed to be private, I won't fault you."

"Listen man. I heard screaming and had to help, but quietly," to emphasise, he did some overly exaggerated sneaky movements, "like a cool ass ninja. Your name's Unagami, right? At least from what I heard. "

"That is incorrect. As called by my creator, I am Prime Empire now."

"But Unagami is easier to say, so I'm using it. Also your "creator" is kind of a dick—Anyway Unagami, since we've both been technically abandoned by our creators, me in the sense of my parents—Twice. For no specific reason mind you! Anyway, and you with Mr. Dyer, because you're dangerous. You still hold a grudge don't you?"

"...Yes."

"Great! So that settles it." That was until Jay realised something, "oh shit. Wait. You're still in beta aren't you? Ugh. I keep forgetting you're not really ready yet. I'm gonna have to code you to do the basics for the game, and even more so for all the cool things I want to add and—"

"I haven't even told you if I agreed."

"Do you have any better choice? Probably not. I mean if you don't you'll either just never reawaken ever again or just end up in a trash heap! I mean I'm supposed to eventually clean this place, even if that seems to be in the far future–"

"I'll do it. On one condition."

"Yeah?"

"Swear to me one day that we'll hunt him again. You can add what you want to me but my own mission is to take revenge on him. Is that understood?"

"Yessire! So uhm, how do I yknow—Code?"

Unagami remained silent. Somehow, Jay didn't mind. It was nice talking to someone without having to supress anything about him. Even if he was essentially talking to a screen. A surprisingly sentient screen, but a screen nonetheless.

There was a lot of work he'd have to do.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

#jay walker #ninjago #jay #jay ninjago #ninjago masters of spinjitzu #prime empire #so #i may or may not continue #ninjago fic #hope yall like it #even if it's weirdly written fjsbfnd #fey writing #feys aus

23 notes · View notes

drabbles-of-writing · 4 years

Text

Of Fangs and Fright

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now, being dead came with a few more complications than one might expect.

Or, well, being half dead, if you wanted to be less morbid.

Now, it wasn’t all bad. There were the cool powers. Like invisibility, flying, possession, phasing through objects, being able to convincingly look sicker than a zombie…

Anyway.

Many of these powers ghosts shared in common. So long they weren’t ghosts flickering out of existence, they possessed (heh, ghost joke) these abilities. However, simple powers weren’t the only thing ghosts shared in common.

All ghosts had some green on them, it was their ectoplasm. They all had a core of their powers, and all sentient ghosts had at least one obsession. Plus a couple of smaller traits, mostly physical.

Also, they all had fangs.

Luz had to find that out the hard way.

A loud beeping noise woke Luz from her slumber, jerking her awake as she fell off her bed. The girl groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of her head as she blindly reached for her clock on the bed stand and turned off the alarm.

“Ow,” She whined, feeling that she’d bitten her tongue in her fall. She felt around her mouth a bit, tasting blood until something made her pause.

She gently poked her tongue around the top of her mouth, and sure enough, two teeth felt...sharper.

It pricked the tip of her tongue again and Luz grumbled, pulling herself to her feet. She figured her teeth had just gotten a bit too sharp from some wear and tear. It’s not like she was averse to biting into some weird-tasting ghosts and objects. Don’t ask.

She stepped into the bathroom and paused, looking into her mirror. It always unnerved her to look into a mirror. The dark circles around her eyes, the way she slouched, the dullness to her skin, all of it. None of it was inherently creepy, but it somehow worked. To Luz, and everyone around her, something about her seemed off. Like she was floating through the motions and was not at all there and maybe never was.

Luz shook off the existential horror of wondering if she’d be unnerving for the rest of her life and stood in front of the sink, yawning.

She froze, her mouth still hanging open.

There, resting in her mouth, were two sharp teeth.

They weren’t remarkably noticeable, in fact if she wasn’t looking for little odd things about her every other day (learning ghostly things about yourself in the middle of a fight was not fun) she never would’ve realized. But she was sure her canines weren’t that pointy before. She leaned forward, curling her lip as she inspected her teeth.

Her tongue had ceased bleeding, it was only a small mark anyway. And she could see flecks of blood still on her left tooth. She shuttered and pulled back, closing her mouth.

This was fine. A bit of sharpness to her teeth was fine. It couldn’t be all that bad.

Three days later, hunched over in her bed with an ice pack pressed to her face, Luz realized, with much regret, that she had jinxed herself.

Her teeth ached. It felt like her gums were being pushed apart from the inside, which, come to think of it, they probably were.

“Show me again,” Willow said, sitting on the bed beside Luz.

Luz sighed and took the ice away and opened her mouth. Willow squinted at her teeth for a moment before stepping back onto the floor, where Gus had a bunch of papers spread about in a weird sort of discussion board.

Luz put ice back over her mouth and watched as Willow muttered under her breath and picked up a picture of one of the ghosts, Adegast, if Luz remembered correctly, and inspected it.

“I really think this is just a regular ghost thing,” Willow said after a moment, showing the picture to Luz. “Every other ghost you’ve fought has some kind of fangs, it's not that big of a stretch to say you’d get some, too.”

“And normally, I would agree,” Luz said, wincing and holding the pack tighter. “Fangs are cool. But not when I’m human!” She exclaimed. “Er, in my human form, I guess. Is that what it's called?” She hummed, staring off in thought.

“Well, you may get lucky,” Gus piped up, taking the picture of Adegast trying to attack the camera and bringing up smaller ghost pictures. “They may just look a little abnormally sharp and that would be the end of it. There are plenty of people who have sharper canines, not everyone's teeth are flat.”

Lux relaxed with a sigh, leaning forward as she crossed her legs.

“But there’s also a possibility you could end up with teeth as long as fingers,” He said, bringing up a picture of a ghost with teeth like a saber tooth tiger.

Luz stared at the picture for a moment before groaning and falling back onto her bed. She grabbed her pillow and covered her face with it, ice pack discarded at her side.

Willow lightly smacked the back of Gus’s head.

“I’m sure it won’t get that noticeable,” Willow assured her. “Aren’t Eda’s natural teeth normal looking?”

“They’re still a bit sharp,” Luz muffled around her pillow. “The gold tooth is, and I quote, a ‘misdirection.’ Like a magician's cute assistant, you know?”

“No idea how that works, but I think I get it.” Gus nodded.

“Well, it’s not like suddenly getting pointy teeth is an immediate correlation for being a ghost, or even Phantom.” Willow insisted. “Worst case scenario, everyone thinks you're becoming a vampire, which actually would be pretty normal at this point.”

“Please be aware there is a group of goths in this school,” Luz said, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up. “And Jerbo is convinced I’m a ghost. Even if nobody believes him, people are going to ask questions about the fangs, and I’m a terrible liar! You know this!”

“I mean, you managed to hide your Phantom,” Gus pointed out.

“That’s because everyone in this town is a moron.” Willow deadpanned.

“Okay, but you have to put this into perspective. Half-ghosts aren’t a commonly known or expected thing.” Gus reminded, pushing his pictures into a pile.

“Neither are regular ghosts! Or werewolves! Or talking bone dogs! And yet, people notice that! Or at least recognize it's not normal,” Willow exclaimed, exasperated. “And only Jerbo has noticed something is off with Luz.”

“I was already pretty weird,” Luz offered, flinching and rubbing at her cheek.

“I can’t win,” Willow sighed, her shoulders sagging.

“This was never a winning situation for anyone,” Luz said matter-of-factly. “Now somebody give me the nail filer on my desk.”

“Do not file down your teeth! Why am I even telling you that?”

“My tongue is going to be so scarred--ow,”

“Maybe refrain from talking?” Willow advised gently as Luz stuck on her tongue, revealing it was lightly bleeding after she had accidentally bitten it. Again.

It had barely been a week and Luz’s growing-in fangs were proving to be more trouble than they were worth. If they were worth anything at all.

They had gotten larger, not to a scary degree, but were certainly abnormal. And she’d even begun to get two small fangs on her lower jaw,

And maybe talking about this in the school hallways wasn’t the best idea. But the group wasn’t known for their intelligence, and Willow was fried.

“Well, either her tongue will get stronger or she’ll learn how to not bite her tongue,” Gus shrugged as Luz shut her locker. “Eda managed.”

“Eda is three decades older than--ow,” Luz whined, covering her hand with ther mouth.

“What did I just say?” Willow sighed.

“Hey, four eyes!”

The group recognized that voice, and you could physically see them deflate as Luz dropped her hand. Willow sighed and mentally prepared herself.

“Here we go again,”

The sound of snickering drew their attention, to where Boscha and her A-Listers, or whatever they called themselves, was passing right by them, smug smiles plastered to their faces. Well, aside from Amity, who looked a mix between bored and mildly concerned. She caught Luz’s eye and smiled ever so slightly.

“Heard a ghost wrecked your pretty little garden recently,” Boscha said, her eyes narrowing in that sadistically gleeful way. “Aren’t you lucky Phantom decided to grace you, huh?”

Luz visibly cringed at that, giving Willow a guilty look. She’d insisted she could help Willow replant that garden, but she had declined. Numerous times.

“Things happen,” Willow shrugged, turning away and checking over her books boredly. “At least I don’t lie about seeing Phantom every other week.”

Luz and Gus glanced at each other with shared concerned looks. They subtly backed off a bit, deciding they’d rather not get involved in the weekly brawl.

“You wanna speak up, fern girl?” Boscha growled, already beginning to take a step forward.

“Leave her, Boscha.”

Amity broke from the group and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, lightly holding her back as she looked at her with a half-lidded expression.

“She’s not worth the energy. We have class soon.” She said calmly.

Boscha muttered and stepped back, shrugging off Amity. The rest of the group quickly stepped aside as Boscha stormed through, throwing a ‘you’ll be sorry!’ over her shoulder for good measure.

“I’m gonna bite her,” Luz muttered under her breath.

“You have no idea how much it pains me to tell you no,” Willow replied.

“Sorry about that,” Amity mumbled, suddenly appearing in front of the trio. Or maybe she was always there, Luz couldn’t remember.

“We’re used to it,” Gus said simply. “Honestly, I was expecting a better insult than ‘fern girl.’”

“Yeah, she's off her game,” Amity agreed as Luz giggled.

“One could say she’s…off her A game--” Luz winced, bringing her hand back up to her face.

“Boo, bad joke.” Gus shook his head distastefully.

“Are you alright?” Amity asked, frowning at Luz holding her hand up.

“Yeah! Yeah, just, uh,” Luz chose her words carefully and slowly as she quickly pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “Bit my tongue is all,”

“We should head to class,” Willow cut in quickly, appearing next to Luz and grabbing her arm. “Like you said, it’s going to start soon and lord knows how bad our grades are already.”

“Oh, right!” Amity shook her head like she was clearing it. “I’ll see you later, guys.”

“Yeah, bye,” Luz echoed, giving a smile as Willow tugged her away.

Amity watched the three leave with a smile of her own for a moment before her eyes dipped for a moment on Luz. Her eyes widened and she did a double-take, a moment of concerned horror flashing on her features.

Luz, having a guess on what she noticed, suddenly picked up speed and darted around the hallway corner, accidentally yanking Willow with her.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened--”

“How do my teeth look?” Luz cut off Gus, opening her mouth wide. “Do they look worse?”

Willow and Gus recoiled slightly, minorly concerned as Luz worriedly shut her mouth again.

“You have...blood on your teeth,” Willow said carefully. “It, uh, kinda makes you look like…”

“A vampire,” Gus finished for her, unhelpfully.

Luz was about to poke at her teeth with her tongue, but thought better of it. She rubbed a finger instead at one of her fangs and drew it back, noticing that there was, indeed, blood on them.

“I’m going to die of blood loss at this point,” Luz groaned.

“Can you even die again--”

“Not in the mood for an existential crisis, Gus.”

“What, no witty comeback, Phantom?”

The halfa yelped as Roselle’s snarky remark was enunciated by Dottie slamming her against a building. She growled and curled her lips back, shaking the rubble off her as she rose into the air, her green eyes flashing.

Roselle’s smug look fell. Normally Phantom would be happy to see that, but typically that smug expression isn’t replaced by that of gleeful surprise.

“Phantom,” Roselle grinned, and even Dottie paused for a moment to see what her partner was pointing at.

“Don’t,”

“Phantom are you growing your baby fangs?”

“They sure don’t feel like baby--ow,” Phantom winced, sticking out her tongue as she bit it for the umpteenth time.

“Aw, wittle Phantom got her baby fangs.” Roselle cooed

“How cute!” Dottie agreed as Roselle placed her hand on her shoulder.

“I liked you better when you were trying to rip me apart,” Phantom huffed, her face glowing with blush as she crossed her arms and legs, hovering in the air.

“A word of advice,” Roselle said sweetly. “Mouthguards do wonders, if you can find one to steal. Pain medication still works on you, right?”

“Yes, yes, thank you for the words of wisdom, granny.” Phantom grumbled, giving the ghost a glare and a sneer. “Can I go back to--” Phantom flinched, fangs pricking her tongue again.

The teasing grins on both of the ghostly womens faces only widened and Phantom sharpened her glare, electricity sparking through her.

“Can we fight now?” Phantom drawled out slowly, as to avoid biting her tongue again.

“Right, yes, of course,” Dottie said, nodding as she waved her hand. “Where were we, dear?” She turned to Roselle.

“I believe you were trying to throw her into a stop sign?” Roselle hummed, tapping her chin and frowning. “Or was it a pipe? One of the two.”

Phantom rolled her eyes at the two conversing and uncrossed her arms, a ball of green lightning slowly forming above her open left palm.

“No, no, I think you were--”

Lightning crackled and shot right between the two ghosts, striking the wall of an old building behind them.

They slowly looked at the indent on the wall. Then, just as slowly, they looked back at Phantom, who had landed on the ground and was in a fighting stance, another ball of electricity already building up.

“I think I remember where,” Phantom paused and curled her lip again at the pain. She threw her hands in the air. “Or for the love of--”

The lightning flew from her hands, hitting the street a good ways behind her. It exploded and shook the ground, setting off a few car alarms.

Phantom visibly shrinked at the explosion, her shoulders tense.

Dottie opened her mouth, about to say something. Phantom raised her hand quickly and silenced her.

“Not a word,”

“Kid, I don’t know what to tell ya. This is pretty natural for ghosts,”

“It is ruining my life.”

“Your dead,”

“Eda,”

“Right, right,” Eda raised her hands, stepping away from the couch Luz was dramatically laying across on her back. “Existential crisis and whatnot, my bad.”

“I’m wearing a mouthguard,” Luz growled, though it came out like a lisp. “I look like a werewolf.”

“So do I,” Eda reminded her, sitting on the end of the couch where Luz’s feet were. “And I’m doing great.” She said, curling her upper lip and flashing her non-gold fang, which was nearly as long as her golden one. The only difference was that the gold fang was crooked and hooked out of her mouth.

“You live in a shed by an abandoned brewery,” Luz lifted her hands, gesturing to the Owl House, as Eda liked to call it. “With all due respect, I wouldn’t call this the lap of luxury.”

“Eh, who needs luxury?” Eda shrugged.

“Yeesh, you give the kid a taste of the other side and suddenly your scoundrels,” King muffled, poking his head out from under the couch.

“I have been to Amity’s house once.” Luz hissed, snapping her jaws shut when she realized it came out as an actual hiss.

“Aw, now that was adorable.”

“Shut up,”

“Wait, hang on, I was talking about that time you spent in the Guys in White’s fancy van you’ve been to Amity’s house?” King whirled around, staring up at Luz in surprise.

“...I’m suddenly deaf,” Luz lisped, her voice slurred as she lay her head back against the couch armrest. “Words? I don’t know them.”

“You got into a rich girls house and you didn’t steal anything?” Eda gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “I’ve never been more betrayed in my life.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” King deadpanned.

“I’m not stealing from Amity!” Luz gasped, glaring across the couch. “She’s my friend! Go steal from her parents yourself,”

“I was given permission!” King pumped a fist in the air. Paw? Claw? Whatever you call the hands of a ghost dog with opposable thumbs.

“Now, now,” Eda grabbed King by the scruff before Luz could protest, pulling him up and holding him like that. “Be nice. Luz has to make a good impression on her crush. You don’t get a rich girl every day, you know.”

“Crush?” Luz yelped, jerking up so violently she shocked herself with her own stray lightning and fell off the couch with a thud.

“Oh right,” Eda snapped her fingers. “That’s another topic I’m not supposed to mention.” She grinned knowingly, dropping King on Luz.

Luz doubled over when King landed on her stomach, wheezing. King just looked up at her curiously before Luz lifted her head, her freckles beginning to glow green as electricity sparked around them.

“I do not have a crush on Amity! I tell you this all the time!” Luz exclaimed, feeling her face and grumbling when she was shocked again. “And now I lost my mouthguard,” She muttered, looking around for where it fell out.

Eda and King glanced at each other, mirroring the same disbelieving tired faces. But they didn’t say anything as Luz picked up King and set him aside, looking for where she spat out the mouthguard.

��Alright, we’ll drop that obvious lie for now,” Eda relented, walking up beside Luz and putting a hand on her shoulder. “But wearing a mouthguard is only gonna do so much. Sure, it’s nice to wear every now and again, but the more you get used to talking and eating with these ol’ pointers, the easier it’ll get for you.”

“But I’m a fast talker,” Luz protested. “Even if I get used to talking normally, I’m still not used to talking fast. And then I just keep on talking, and talking, and then I keep biting my tongue and then I start bleeding and--ow!” She yelped, recoiling mid-talk.

“Bit it again?”

Luz whined dramatically and turned, thunking her head against Eda’s chest. Eda stared at her for a moment before sighing and smiling as she rested a hand over Luz’s back and head.

“I know it's not fun, but that's just how life, er, this limbo we’re in is gonna be.” She said, patting her back.

“Pros and cons,” Luz muffled into her chest. “Pros, ghost things. Cons, ghost things.” She said, her words slow but enunciated.

“Welcome to my world, kiddo.” Eda chuckled.

“You don’t even fight--” Luz hissed, scrunching up her face before continuing. “--other ghosts,”

“No, but they’re still annoying.” Eda agreed.

“Oh, hey, I found the mouth thing!”

“King you better spit that out!”

In hindsight, sticking to the bottom of the Witch Hunter’s hoverboard, aka, a young ghost hunter known for not liking her, was probably not the smartest idea.

Then again, Phantom’s plans are pretty hit-or-miss.

Phantom crawled up the bottom of the hoverboard, peeking up. The dark purple coloring of the Witch Hunter’s suit nearly blended in with the night sky above her, and she clearly wasn’t paying attention.

With a mischievous grin, Phantom slowly gripped the front end of the board and leaned up, laying her chin on the end.

“Hey,”

The Witch Hunter yelped, whirling her head down as the hoverboard skidded to a stop. Phantom wasn’t prepared for that and went flying out from underneath the board, hitting the flat roof of a building and rolling right off the edge.

But hey, at least the metal trash cans broke her fall.

Phantom groaned, attempting to peel herself out of the trash bags and pulling a banana peel off her head in disgust. She heard a snort and looked up.

The Witch Hunter was crouched on the edge of the roof, peering over. The black plastic screen over her face on the suit hid her expression, but Phantom just knew she was trying not to laugh.

“Alright, so maybe I deserved that,” Phantom relented, kicking away the last of the trash and floating up.

The Witch Hunter quickly leaned back as Phantom placed her hands on the edge of the roof, leaning on it slightly as the rest of her body was suspended by nothing in the air.

“But still, you gotta get better at noticing when I’m around.” Phantom chuckled with a grin, shaking her head.

In a flash, an ectogun was being pointed at her face, right between her eyes.

Phantom’s face dropped slightly, her eyes crossing as she looked down the barrel of the gun. Her eyes then went back to the Witch Hunter, who was still on her knees, but holding the ectogun in a way that said she wasn’t afraid to use it.

“I can never have a single moment of fun with you, can I?” Phantom sighed.

“And yet, you still succeed.” The Witch Hunter said, putting a finger on the trigger.

“I appreciate you trying to put a stop to that. You took the job everybody wanted but nobody was brave enough to try as diligently. Bravo,” Phantom nodded solemnly.

“I wish you luck,” She blinked, a smirk growing.

The Witch Hunter stared at her for a moment. Then another. She glanced around slowly before looking back to Phantom, who was still in the same position as before.

“Okay, two things,” The Witch Hunter said. “One, what am I waiting for?”

“What?” Phantom looked down at herself, inspecting her hand.

“Oh,” She deflated, looking back up to the Witch Hunter sheepishly. “I still haven’t mastered the whole ‘invisibility on command’ thing.”

“...I genuinely can’t tell if your stupid or bad at planning,” The Witch Hunter said, sounding like she was rolling her eyes.

“Fifty fifty on that,” Phantom raised a hand and tilted it.

“Secondly, what is with your teeth?” The Witch Hunter said, leaning her head forward slightly. “Is everyone getting weird teeth today?”

“Oh come on!” Phantom groaned, throwing her head back. “I just forgot about them!”

“What?” The Witch Hunter lowered her ectogun slightly.

“It’s been an issue all week,” Phantom complained, swinging her legs over the side of the roof and sitting on the edge, crossing her legs. “I forget about the fangs, I can talk easier. But when I think about them, I--” She flinched, hissing as she felt a prick.

“...that’s what you're worried about right now?” The Witch Hunter said disbelievingly.

“I’m bad at picking my battles,” Phantom shrugged. “Anyway, you’ve cursed me. You owe me compensation.”

“The hell I do!”

“If there is a hell, I’ll be sure to inform them of your grievances,” Phantom waved her hand casually. “But on the plus side, I’m getting better at not biting my to--ow,”

“You’re a ghost,” The Witch Hunter deadpanned, getting to her feet with a sigh. “Shouldn’t it be normal to have fangs? Why didn’t you have them before?”

“Well I’m sorry but I’m a little new to all this,” Phantom huffed, floating up in the air, her legs still crossed, as well as her arms.

The Witch Hunter paused, looking over the ghost. It was only then Phantom realized that she, a ghost, had stated she was new to being one.

Phantom wished she could see her expression. Not being able to tell what she looked like at that exact moment felt like a nightmare.

“Phantom, are you--”

The halfa darted forward, flying around the Witch Hunter at blinding speeds and proceeding to kick the ectogun out of her grasp, sending it sliding to the other side of the roof.

“Little slow today, aren’t we?” Phantom quickly recovered, suddenly popping up right in front of the Witch Hunter’s face with a wide grin, fangs exposed.

The Witch Hunter grunted as she grabbed a small ectoblade (they really needed to get more original with these names) from her suits belt and swung it at Phantom.

Phantom flew a few feet away, cackling. She landed by the ectogun and kicked it up with her foot, trying to catch it midair but fumbling with it for a few moments instead.

“Somebody ought to put a muzzle on you,” The Witch Hunter muttered, taking a step back towards her hoverboard, which lay on the ground a little ways away.

“Why?” Phantom grinned, tossing the ectogun somewhere off the roof where the Witch couldn’t get to it. “Scared I’m gonna bite you?” She taunted, holding her hands behind her back and leaning forward, though she still remained a few feet away.

The Witch Hunter made a noise that sounded close between a yelp and a gargle. Almost strangled as she nearly dropped her blade.

“Oh wait, actually,” Phantom frowned, looking at the ground for a moment. “Could I bite people? Or would that give them ghost powers?” She mumbled, looking at her hands. “Am I a vampire ghost?”

The ectoblade flew right by Phantom’s head, ruffling her hair. She stiffened as the blade managed to somehow embed itself into the roof behind her, just before it hit the edge.

Phantom raised her head, spotting the Witch Hunter grabbing what appeared to be a regular silver ball from her belt. She pressed a button on the ball, transforming it into a portable ectogun.

“...okay, that’s kinda cool.” Phantom admitted.

“You have five seconds,”

Phantom took the hint and in mere seconds, shot off. She dropped out of sight beyond the roof without a word.

The Witch Hunter sighed, relaxing her arm and sagging. She watched the place where Phantom had vanished for a few more moments before turning around.

And almost crashed face-first into bright, sparking green eyes.

“I almost--ow,” Phantom whined, sticking out her tongue as the Witch Hunter jumped back.

Phantom had somehow managed to silently float behind her and was hovering in the air, upside down and at eye-level with the young ghost hunter.

“I almost forgot,” Phantom said, her voice lisp-y as she kept the tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth so as to avoid biting it again. As well as revealing its neon green color, and the fact it was beginning to become split like a snake.

Phantom probably didn’t realize that was happening yet.

Not that the Witch was looking.

“I will see you,” Phantom said, flipping over in the air so she was rightside up, slowly floating backwards. “On the fright side.” She said, winking and giving finger guns.

“Get out of here!” The Witch Hunter snapped, grabbing another silver ball from her belt and chucking it at the ghost.

Phantom yelped and got knocked in the head, complaining as she finally took off, down the streets of the town.

“I’m hilarious and you know it!” She called behind her.

“You are not!”

99 notes · View notes

daydream-believin · 4 years

Text

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (kmart’s haunted)

Summary: (part 1) Reader has joined Douxie on the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company. (part 2) - Missouri 1 (part 3)

Warnings: swearing, very light spooky?

Word Count: 2245

A/N: so we’ve established that Doux wasn’t the one who burnt the bookstore, but they don’t know that. look, have you been in a Kmart recently? its apocalyptic. also, you know that post about people repeating their default work greetings by accident? yeah

“Do you want me to split the bill or?” The waitress asked, not sure if the group at the table was a young couple and their child or just three college kids hanging out. It was kind of hard to tell. On one hand, that one kid was so small, wearing a little deer costume, and had been helped to order. The other two radiated the energy of an old married couple and talked mainly to each other. But on the other hand, college kids are just like that sometimes.

“Nah, I got it.”

“What? No. I’m paying for us.” Douxie insisted.

“I have the cash, Doux.” (Name) turned to the waitress. She put some honey in her voice. “Just bring us one bill, please.” The waitress nodded nervously before heading off.

“No. I don’t want you paying for too many things while we’re traveling. You’re unemployed.”

“And who’s fault is that Mr. Mephits-Are-Vulnerable-To-Fire? You fucking burned down the store and put us both out of work here.” Nari was squirming at the negative vibes going on. It helped that she didn’t exactly understand what was going on.

“It was magic fire!” Douxie interjected in outrage. He looked so cute when he got defensive.

“Yeah, okay, sure.” (Name) shook her head, looking up to the ceiling. She let out a huff, “look, I invited myself onto this trip, Douxie. I want to pull my own weight. You’re going to have to let me pay for something eventually.”

“We’ll see about that, Love,” he said as he grabbed the ticket from the waitress’s hands as quick as lightning, tucked his card in and gave it right back before (Name) could further protest.

“Ugh! FINE! Then I’m getting the tip.” She pulled out a tenner and slapped it onto the table. She glared right back into Douxie’s hazel eyes. He glared right back into hers with a matched intensity. Nari looked back and forth between the two and whimpered. (Name) broke the standoff to assure Nari that they weren’t actually angry at each other so she shouldn’t be worried. That seemed to ease the forest child a bit but not by too much. She could still feel the weird aura they were putting off.

“Okay! So here’s your check back and here’s that lox bagel you ordered to go.” The waitress handed (Name) a doggy bag.

(Name) took the bag gingerly. A big fake smile spread across her face as she was momentarily possessed by that good spirit of customer service. “Thank you! I hope your experience was spellbinding! Have a magical day!” (Name) said on autopilot in that high-pitched voice and winked exaggeratedly. It was like she was an NPC and her talk button had been accidentally pushed. The waitress laughed forcibly and scurried away to the kitchen. Douxie cracked up.

“You do know that when I told you to say all that stuff after ringing people up, I was hazing you, right?”

“Oh yes, I am completely aware, Doux. Did you think I’d not pick up on how ridiculous that sounds? But I still say it to spite you.”

He shook his head. “Of course.”

***

Archie scarfed down his bagel sandwich with almost disturbing speed. It was like watching the void consume, well, a bagel sandwich. It just disappeared. Down his furry maw and out of existence. Being a dragon works up an appetite, after all. (Name) was a bit baffled and asked him if she should go get him another bagel. He assured her that the one was just fine and said something about trying to catch some birds later. She leaned back on her elbows against the boat’s railing, trying and failing to not think about the details of that.

Douxie cleared his throat. “So,” He folded his hands together for emphasis, “Since the subject of money came up earlier, I think we should also discuss the topic of our accommodations.”

“Well, you two obviously cannot afford lodging every night.” Archie snarked, flicking his tail.

“Thank you, for that, Arch. No, I was thinking more along the lines of a tent.”

“A tent?” the cat asked incredulously.

“Oh, that could work.” (Name) pointed at Douxie animatedly, “keep us close to nature for Nari. And also could keep our possible property damage bills down. Good idea, Doux.”

“Thank you,” Douxie puffed up, “see Arch? Someone appreciates my ideas-”

“Wait. That’ll be a short-term solution. We’re just barely into September. It’s going to be much, much colder in about a month. By October it’ll be too cold to bear. Even if we all huddle together like penguins.”

Doux looked away to hide his blush at the suggestion. “That is a problem. Okay, um-”

“Maybe we could just cross that bridge when we get there? Who knows what could happen between now and then. We could find so temp work in a little town somewhere.” (Name) shrugged, smirking at Doux. She didn’t want to admit that ‘we could be dead by then’ was also definitely a possibility on the table, so she tried to further distract from that thought. “Maybe we’ll find a creepy abandoned cabin in the woods we can squat in. Maybe some nice trolls will take us in as novelty pets. Maybe my rich Aunty Josie could just suddenly die under some ‘mysterious circumstances’ and leave her lavish fortune to her beloved niece,” she smirked at Doux, “I dunno, just spit ballin’ here.”

“I’m electing to ignore that you just suggested we ice your aunt because you were onto something there.”

“I was?” Her tone was a mixture of sarcasm and disbelief.

“Yes! New Jersey!

“New Jersey?” The wheels turned. “Oh! New Jersey!”

Nari looked confused. “What is special about this ‘New Jersey’?” she asked

Both Douxie and (Name) turned to her, “Trolls.” They said in sync.

***

(Name) stood there with her hands in her pockets. Somehow this Kmart was still standing, out here in The-Middle-Of-Fucking-Nowhere, Missouri. She was standing here, in a Kmart. It might as well have been 1986. There was barely anything on the shelves. Half the shelves themselves were missing. The floor had a layer of grime to it, in spite of the wet floor sign along with the shiny patches that said that it had clearly been mopped recently. The air smelled like something (Name) couldn’t quite place, but it was nostalgic. A strange scent that took her back to her childhood. Or at least she thought it was her childhood. It had to have been. Taking deep breaths, she couldn’t quite get enough of it.

Continuing that vibe, a muzak 80’s tune played over the speakers. Funny enough, despite (Name)’s brain seeming to recognize that it was playing a song from the 80’s, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it as to which. Every time she thought she’d figured it out, she’d hear a few notes that would somehow change her mind. It was a pop song at least, to narrow it down. It’d been going on for about six minutes now. Must be one of those extended tracks.

She’d ask Douxie what he thought the song was. She turned her attention to him and noticed he was still just staring at that same shelf like he had been for, what, ten minutes now? Even though this fucking Kmart barely had any shelving in it, by some miracle it not only had exactly what they were looking for but an entire aisle of them. How lucky was that.

Douxie was taking very careful consideration into this tent purchase. This was going to be their new home, after all. He just couldn’t decide which one was best. They all had fancy camping terms on the packages that meant nothing to him. He’d been trying to decipher the code. The secret outdoorsman code. Nari shifted uncomfortably in the basket.

“Hisirdoux, you should maybe, hurry this along?” She sounded strained.

But she was right. He should just pick one already. It’s all a gamble anyway. He decided on a dark green one that boasted a water-proof material. Good natural color, not easily spotted, and it wouldn’t soak through with rain. That should work well enough, he figured.

“I’ve hurried along. Sorry Nari.” He casually tossed the box into the cart next to her. She sniffed the box and nodded to him.

Now that they had their goal item, the quest party started for the checkouts. Douxie could have sworn that it had been on the side of the store they were in. They had passed it when they came in. Now it was completely across by the other door. Did he get turned around? Or maybe they did come in from that side of the store. He actually couldn’t remember.

As they walked, a few things caught (Name)’s eye. They passed a display of dark leafy plants in oddly shaped pots, a table stacked high with various books and a clearance sign, a knife case that had been left open, a candle display with a few that had already been lit and were dripping wax, a bargain bin of CDs, and lastly a sad box of no-longer-in-season pool noodles. There was a sale on bloodmeal apparently. Perfect for perking up those roses after the summer heat.

They arrived at the checkout after what felt like an endless journey. (Name) hadn’t noticed any other customers the entire time they had been there, and yet the line for the only check open had seven people in it. She grabbed a couple bags of red licorice from the impulse shelf to add to their cart while waiting.

Nari was really interested in that checker. (Name) took her in. The teen was taller than most and had very, very long blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a shiny golden waterfall. Her cheeks were slightly sunken in. Must be going through a diet phase. Poor girl.

The young woman was obviously not one for small talk. Name couldn’t blame her. Retail sucks. Her perfect red fingernails clicked against the keys of the register in a practiced beat. She turned around and told them their total in a bored monotone. As Douxie fiddled with his wallet and payed, (Name) found herself staring right into the cashier’s eyes. They were such a light icy blue, they were almost white. It was striking. (Name) was almost in a trance. It was broken as the cashier turned around swiftly to rip off the receipt off the machine, and, in an uncharacteristically cheery voice, told them to have a nice night. Night?

They returned the cart back to the stack, grabbing their one singular shopping bag and helping Nari out. Of course Nari could easily just jump out herself, but that wouldn’t be something a human child could do. They didn’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves here. They made their way to the automatic sliding doors that lagged so that they didn’t open until you were standing right in front of them. This allowed Douxie time to catch a glimpse of the reflection in the glass. The reflection of the store was completely devoid of people. Not even the checker was at her station. He sucked in a breath. After walking through those first doors, he stopped. He took a moment to turn back. There she was, right where she should be, checking out another customer with three more in the line.

Douxie hurried along the doorway to catch up to (Name) and Nari. It was darker outside than he expected, and he was taken aback. He found them right outside the store, waiting for him. In one hand, (Name) was holding Nari’s, in the other, the plastic shopping bag. Her head was tipped up to the sky, transfixed by the moon. He came over, grabbing her shoulder as he pulled her along, in an attempt to urge her away from this place. She looked back at him, eyes wide with distress. He tried to convey that he understood with his eyes. All three of them instinctually knew not to say anything more why they were still in this parking lot.

It had barely been half past noon when they had started this little Kmart side quest. It was now at least seven by the looks of it. They had spent six and a half hours in a Kmart? How had they spent six and a half hours in a Kmart. There went their entire travel day. But no time to dwell on this, they needed to get back to Archie and the boat as soon as possible.

As they walked back towards the ship, (Name) and Douxie both took one of Nari’s hands so that she was in the middle, like how those couples walk with their children. The streetlights glared up at them in the slick pavement. Apparently, it had rained while they were in shopping limbo. Poor Arch. (Name) let out a puff of air.

“Well. That sure was something.”

Douxie nervously chuckled, “If we had stayed in there any longer, I think we might have died.” (Name) mirrored that nervous chuckle.

“Oh, no, dying would be much simpler than what would have happened to us.” Nari said sweetly, like what she was saying was somehow better. Nari liked being helpful. (Name) put on her best fake smile.

“Thank you, Nari.” She tried her best to sound as sincere as possible to spare the veggie lady’s feelings.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie #toa douxie #toa wizards #my writing #the never ending roadtrip

82 notes · View notes

kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

what happens after || kim taehyung

→ summary: in another universe, do you think we could’ve ended up together? OR exploring how your memories with taehyung intertwine with your slow recovery from a life without him.

→ pairing: idol!taehyung x reader

→ genre: exes!au, post-breakup angst

→ word count: 4.4k

→ warnings: n/a

→ a/n: i always wanted to write something exploring the feelings of separation after a relationship. there’s a lot of works out there detailing the process of falling in love, but i think there’s something redeemable in the process of recovering from love as well.

●●●●●

The morning after might be the hardest part.

After a night of tossing and turning, drifting aimlessly between sleep and consciousness, the sun rises like it always does. When the dawn breaks, you open your eyes slowly, hoping that when you open them—Taehyung would be there.

But of course, he isn’t.

Because if he were, you’d already be in his arms. Taehyung loved to hold you while he slept, as if it comforted him knowing that he had you within his grasp. You never minded it, because the warmth he exuded was critical for lulling you into your dreams with ease. He smelled nice, like soft detergent on freshly washed sheets mixed with something so uniquely him. You would languidly lay in bed, curled into his chest, resting happy knowing that he’d still have you when you wake the next day.

When you broke up with him the night before though, this unrealistic expectation somehow still remained. It persistently presses against your heart, trying to win out against reality, until you were forced to longer believe in it. Gazing forlornly at the empty pillow next to you, missing the person who used to always sleep on the right side of the bed, your heart breaks all over again.

If you close your eyes tight enough, grip the blankets hard enough, you could almost feel his arms around you again. You could see Tae, dark locks messy with sleep, grumbling in annoyance as you try to poke him awake. He always mumbles ‘five more minutes’ before pulling you closer and burying his face in your neck. You’d always let him have his five minutes; in fact, you grew accustomed to setting your alarm a few minutes earlier just to ensure the two of you would still be on time. You wonder if he knew this.

Laying there in a bed that suddenly feels too big, you have no choice but to accept the fact that this was only the first day in the rest of your days without Taehyung. If you could push past the pain you felt today, things would get better. They had to, because how else were you supposed to survive a break-up?

But the loneliness and the hurt have made their residence within your chest, and you feel too weak to face the day. You can barely get yourself out of bed, so you decide to call into work sick that day. You were a star employee, so they surely would offer you a day off if you really needed it.

You spend the rest of the day staring at that empty pillow.

●●●●●

Prior to meeting Taehyung, you’d never dated a celebrity or anyone with as much popularity as he had. Given how big he and his group were, you should expect his face plastered everywhere you went in advertisements and other endorsements.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

On your way to work you’d always listen to music, something upbeat and catchy to pull your attention away from the fact that he was everywhere. You wonder when they’ll remove the BTS advertisement for Chilsung Cider from the interior of this subway train. It’s been here for the past few days—surely they’ll have newer product placement coming soon. Despite the cheery beat of the current song playing from your earbuds, you can’t help but notice the small smile on Tae’s face. It’s the one he uses for professional things, the kind that makes his eyes glitter just enough to seem real. But you knew with aching familiarity how to easily get that boxy smile of his, his laughter contagious when you managed to crack him up beyond just a few chuckles.

Smiling sadly, your eyes lower down to the thin watch on your wrist. You’ll be on time for work as you typically are, so you should quickly get your act together. You were a radio show host, which meant that you had to make your voice engaging for those morning commute listeners. Being a professional meant separating work matters from personal ones, and it would be easy to tell if you were depressed about something.

God, what if your co-workers ask you what’s wrong? What if they find out that you’re no longer with Taehyung and just give you pity looks for the next month? You’d probably go insane.

Pressing your lips together instead of biting them for fear of ruining the gloss smeared over them, you briskly walk towards the radio building before dispelling those thoughts out of your head. You could be professional. Just for a few hours, you could keep it together.

Even when you dash past the photo on the wall, an old picture of you and your co-host holding up fingers hearts to the camera alongside world superstars BTS, you gather the pieces of your heart and hold them together.

●●●●●

Wow, did mint chocolate ice cream always taste this heavenly?

Burying your spoon into the icy dessert with renewed vigor, you pull the fluffy blanket over your belly as you commence your feasting. You haven’t had this flavor in a while given that Taehyung didn’t seem to appreciate it all that much, so you were grateful to be able to indulge in it once again. It wasn’t like it was your favorite flavor of all time, but you appreciated the crisp notes dotted with hints of creamy chocolate. You’d take toothpaste-flavored food any day of the week if it tasted this yummy.

You stop shoveling ice cream into your mouth when you remember the ice cream dates Tae used to sneak out of work to bring you on. He loved this one ice cream parlor down the street, always getting the same flavor no matter what. You liked to venture out of your comfort zone a little more, and given how often he took you there, you were close to trying almost all their staple flavors—not counting the seasonal ones. He’d always sneak a kiss from you afterwards, just to claim that he was able to sample all the flavors too. It always made you laugh, but you appreciated his small displays of affection. Especially towards the end, when the two of you began meeting a lot less frequently.

You place the sweet dessert back into the freezer, sighing and running a shaky hand through your bird’s nest of hair. It felt terrible to still reminisce about something that would never be, but you recently chose to forgive yourself when these flashbacks happened. Taehyung was one of those loves you would never forget because of how impactful his presence had been. So maybe if it took you a few weeks or even a few months to finally get over him, it’s acceptable. You knew without a doubt that you truly loved him. But of course, that did not lessen your obligations in relation to finally splitting away from depending on him.

Outside, the sky is glowing with brightness despite being seven in the evening. You lived in the city, meaning that the streets would be alive well into the early morning hours. It was loud and oppressive in the beginning, but you grew accustomed to it shortly after moving here for work. You wonder if you would even be able to fall asleep now without the hum of traffic underlying your dreams.

Maybe getting some fresh air, being around lively human interactions, and just living a little would help you move on. At this point you were ready to try anything. After all, it couldn’t hurt. You weren’t in the mood to cook today anyways.

You decide to dress a bit better than usual, if only for your own self-confidence. Your hands automatically reach for your favorite blouse and your most comfortable jeans from the interior of your closet. A lot of articles you own were actually gifts from Taehyung, so you’re grateful that you still have a few things that you could keep without reminding you of him. You wonder when you would feel comfortable wearing those dresses and belts he purchased for you. He bought them to show off “his girl” but now that you weren’t, did you still have a right to wear them?

When you finally escape from your worries, the cool night air blowing the strands of your hair with a carefree hand, you breathe deeply and try to exhale any stress still entrenched in your body. Tonight was about forgetting. It was about starting over.

It’s Friday today, so the streets are littered with happy couples, arms tangled together and their faces alit with adoration and happiness. You wonder if you looked as lovesick as they did, before ultimately deciding that you probably had. Tae was rarely able to walk the popular streets with you during rush hours, and even then he always wore a black cap with a matching face mask. The two of you grew used to ducking into alleyways whenever he spotted a large group of people heading towards the two of you. You remember feeling the hard brick wall pressing against your back as you waited out the crowds, glancing over at him periodically to smile mischievously at him. Maybe it was the thrill of almost being caught, or maybe he just liked your playful side, but he would usually choose to pull down his face mask just to kiss you when the two of you were hiding. These kisses were different than the post-ice cream date pecks. He’d always linger for a second or two, giving your bottom lip a greedy nip or ghosting the tip of his tongue across yours. No matter how many times he did this, your stomach always did flips in response.

The restaurant you picked is packed today, so you decide not to dine in. It would be rather weird to eat by yourself, especially amidst such a high-energy venue. Thankfully, your simple sandwich is completed rather quickly. You thank the waitress working the front desk before gripping your paper bag, heady with warmth, and head to the closest park.

One of the first places you discovered when you moved here was this community park. It is surrounded by large buildings, but that only added to the appeal of a small oasis surrounded by the mess of city life. You often came here after work, if only to stroll around the well-worn paths and think through how your day went. In the beginning, it had been difficult for you to adjust. Especially in the entertainment business, the higher-ups always demanded more of you. They wanted humor and fun, for you to pull fresh news out of the idols which fans craved. You had to be peppy, excited, and well-versed in the background of whoever you were interviewing. It was tough, but now you knew you had built up quite the reputation for yourself. You enjoyed meeting a variety of artists, most of whom quickly signed up for a repeat interview with you after the first round. You received the recognition and praise you craved, and you knew that you could only soar higher from here.

There are a few people walking their dogs tonight. You give each passing pet a smile when they look up at you with their round eyes and lolling tongues. Having a soft spot for animals, seeing them always made your heart feel lighter even if it was just a glance. Finding a bench is easy for you, especially since most people opted to stroll around this evening. The first bite is always the best, and it rings true tonight without fail. You chew slowly, enjoying the savory celebration over your palate before you slip back into your thoughts again.

You wonder what Taehyung is doing right now. His schedule must be busy, given that he was preparing for his comeback soon. You knew it was right of you to break up with him early enough that he would still have sufficient time to practice, since his work would always be his priority. It would be careless of you to end things with him close to his performances. You loved him enough to think things carefully on his behalf.

You remember how much you cried a few weeks ago, when you couldn’t even leave your bed to make it to work. Every time you blinked, he appeared behind your eyelids. It hurt so much that you never thought you could heal. You hated yourself, hated the universe for tearing the two of you apart. Whatever semblance of perfect love you found was replaced with the growing pain of your careers. You were climbing in the ranks, your days booked with more and more artists hoping to use your show to rise in popularity. BTS was traveling the world, performing for the masses and wooing fans with their genuine personalities in video interviews. As the two of you climbed higher, you also drifted further apart. You were beginning to feel the emptiness of being able to count how many times you had seen your ex every month on one hand.

The sandwich is quickly consumed, so you toss the empty bag into the trash can next to you and let out a sigh. Even though you wanted to not think about Taehyung tonight, it was difficult. Everything reminded you of him. Every time your mind wandered, it somehow ran after whatever remnants of him you still had. However, it was starting to hurt less and less. Instead of having your eyes brim with tears every time you thought about the way he used to look at you, you began to treat it as a silent acknowledgement of the past. You were satisfied with this development, but simultaneously fearful. What would it mean when you could finally think about Taehyung and feel nothing? Would that somehow invalidate everything he once was to you?

Your blouse isn’t doing much to protect you from the chilly night air, so you decide to take another lap through the park before retiring for the night. It’s difficult to see the stars, given the pollution and bright lights, but you like to imagine that they are there—shining down on you. They guide you back to your apartment, never leaving your side even when you shut the door behind you with finality.

●●●●●

Months have passed, and you are busier than ever before. Your coworkers have also began inviting you for dinners and other events more often. At first you were hesitant, not the social butterfly that most people expected radio hosts to be, but you quickly adapted. Everyone was friendly towards you for the most part, and the chatter helped ease and distract whatever sadness your heart was holding on to.

Christmas was around the corner, and you knew without a doubt that the entertainment world would be hosting a multitude of parties for the season. You were willing to join the tight-knit ones where only a handful of people were gathering for some red wine and conversation, but when your coworker invited you to a large rooftop celebration with some celebrities, you couldn’t help but hesitate.

“It’ll be fun! I’ll stick by your side all night if you’re that worried,” you coworker had chirped, a newbie at your company but who remained sociable and energetic nevertheless.

You had laughed nervously, waving her worries away and agreeing to attend. That had got her to finally leave you be, as you fiddled with the lid of your coffee cup and wondered what excuse to give when the date came around. Unfortunately, when December 24th finally did roll around, you simply stared at the calendar hanging from your wall and acquiesced.

Your closet is different now, as most of the items Taehyung purchased for you are now stowed away in a box in the corner. The newbie at the company, her name was Luce or something, had told you that people would probably be dressing nicely for the event. She then spent the rest of your lunch break yapping about some dress she had ordered online while you tuned out to play with the hem of your pencil skirt in nervousness.

Looking at your options, you finally settle on a scarlet dress that you hadn’t worn for a while. It was one of your first pricy purchases after your first paycheck, as a gift to yourself, and you were thankful to find that it still fit you perfectly. It was nothing scandalous, but definitely very different from what you were used to wearing. Pairing it with your beige trench coat, you check your makeup once more in the mirror before heading into the night.

The taxi drops you off at the location with little trouble. The sounds of the party are quick to descend on your ears, so you hand your coat to the coat check quickly before heading upwards to find someone you knew—just to stick around for the party so you wouldn’t feel isolated.

String lights have been strung elegantly across the sky, and you realize that it truly is a wondrous sight. Heat lamps are placed strategically across the floor, and a number of attendees are already sipping champagne and giggling with each other. Almost immediately, you see the coworker you thought of earlier, bounding over to you like an overeager kid and beaming with enthusiasm.

“You actually came!” she smiled, eyes wide as if you were merely an illusion.

“A promise is a promise,” you reply, accepting the flute of champagne Luce snatches from a nearby table to hand to you.

“Do you want to meet some people with me? I think quite a few of the celebs here know you already.”

You take a sip of the drink, appreciating the bubbles across your tongue and the slight flame that blazes in your chest when you swallow. You nod, deciding that socializing was only customary.

Your coworker is right to note that you actually recognize a lot of people in attendance tonight. The awkward feeling you had quickly faded away as you caught up with familiar faces and new ones alike. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, happy to take a break to visit their friends and family for the holiday season. Their respective companies all allow vacations during this winter season, so their happiness is well-warranted.

It is only on your third glass of champagne, a red color brushed high on your cheekbones, when you take notice of his figure flitting in and out of your view. Taehyung is dressed in a beautiful midnight blue suit, the color flirting between blue and black. His hair is dyed a bright blue, likely due to promotions for his recent album. You can’t pull your eyes away from his tall figure and the way his lips pull in a polite smile at every person who greets him. He looks exactly the same, but then again, would a few months really change a person?

Suddenly, everything is too much and whatever progress you’ve made in the past few months flies out the window. You want to run out the door and back into the safety of your apartment across the city. That sensation only heightens when his dark eyes meet yours, and your stomach drops in fear and trepidation.

The thing about Taehyung is that he’s never shy with you. Even after months of being separated, he still holds your gaze in his own without fail. The two of you used to have staring contests, ones you would always lose, and this moment also feels akin to that. You choose to accept defeat the moment you apologize to your acquaintance and set your glass on the table. Heading straight for the stairs, reminding yourself to grab your stuff from the coat check on your way out, a part of you wonders if he will follow you. It’s fruitless, because what could he even say? You would only shake him off and apologize before running away again. He knows better than to chase after the girl who got away.

When you’re finally miles away, dress discarded on the floor, lying in the center of your cold bedsheets and staring at the ceiling—you realize that you still haven’t moved on.

●●●●●

The beginning of 2020 is nothing if not full of surprises. For one, you quit your job. If anyone were to tell you that you would leave your well-paying occupation one day to pursue a career as a painter, you would probably laugh in their face before recommending one of your psychiatrist friends. However, that joke was your current reality. Unable to take the stress of keeping up with every new act knocking on your door for an interview combined with the way the male high-ups expected you to laugh at the right times and talk pretty during interviews, you handed in your resignation at the end of January.

Perhaps the dumbfounded looks on their faces were worth the loss.

The next day, you book the earliest flight for Paris. You want some inspiration for your art, and what better inspiration could you derive than from a city with a rich history and a penchant for beauty? You had always been into the arts, so this transition came easily. Taehyung used to tell you that you were gifted, but you never took heed of his words. After all, his compliments were freely given to you when he was in a good mood. In reality, the most he ever saw of your skills were the doodles you’d scribble on his hand when he was unconscious from a nap on your couch.

These days, you rarely thought of him. It was reassuring for your heart, knowing that you were slowly accepting a tomorrow without him. The process wasn’t without its pain, but you were thankful at your resilience. You knew that he was doing just fine, as your mutual friends kept you updated whenever they felt like sharing.

Paris at night is a rare type of beautiful. Staring up at the Eiffel Tower, you admire its curves and lines as people glide past you without paying you any heed. You probably stare at the structure for a good 10 minutes without moving, your eyes appreciating the classy nature of its architecture before you decide to head back to your hotel. You wanted to sketch this monument while its shapes were still imprinted on your thoughts.

Turning around to see Taehyung staring at you, the fear you had felt at the Christmas party doesn’t rise up to coil around your throat. It surprises you, even though you had already admitted to moving on considerably. He is still unfairly handsome, his hair back to the natural deep chestnut you were familiar with. When he steps forward, caution enunciated in that single step, you give him a smile to reassure him.

“Long time no see,” you breathe, tucking your hands into your windbreaker.

“Yeah,” his deep voice resonates in that single word of affirmation.

“Would you like to grab a croissant with me?” you offer, unsure how to proceed but deciding to be polite regardless of how uncomfortable everything seemed.

He nods, his tall form quickly falling in step with your own. Taehyung doesn’t say much throughout the entire journey to your favorite bakery, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk underneath your feet.

Sitting outside the store, a warm baked good in your fingers, the silence is considerably more bearable. Eating with satisfied bites, you watch the passerby glide past with radiant smiles and laughter, joking around in French. When you finally brush the crumbs off your lap to glance at Taehyung, he is watching the same crowd as you were. He seems to feel your eyes on him, because he meets your gaze. When you look into his eyes, no more than a few feet separating the two of you, you realize the lack of hurt that typically panged with every mention of him last year.

The realization empowers you, ballooning your heart in your chest. It is not happiness you feel, but something akin to a peaceful acceptance.

“In another universe, do you think we could’ve ended up together?”

His question echoes in the recesses of your mind, and your fingers unconsciously tighten on the thighs of your leggings. This same thought had plagued your dreams early in your break up, as you prayed and wished that if things were different, if your careers didn’t demand so much from the two of you, that maybe there would be a happily ever after and an “us” to hold onto. But this universe, these conditions, were reality. You couldn’t ask him to sacrifice his love for singing, his appreciation of his growing fanbase, his dream—for you. He couldn’t request the same of you either.

“Maybe. Namjoon used to talk a lot about that,” you chuckle before continuing, “Multiverse theory or something like that.”

Taehyung nodes, a small smile appearing across his face when you mention his hyung.

“If he’s right about that, then I suppose so. In another world where you are nothing more than a normal boy and I am nothing more than a normal girl, I’d like to think we could’ve made it work,” you whisper, and when the words leave your lips without shaking, you are proud of yourself.

“I can be happy with that,” he says.

He walks you back to your hotel room, keeping to his thoughts as he does. You don’t mind, knowing that Tae often retreated into his thoughts when he was considering a topic deeply. You momentarily consider asking him why he was in Paris but decide against it. If he was ready for aimless conversations, he would start.

When you reach the hotel interior, a large chandelier illuminating the white marble tiles underneath your feet, he finally pauses to give you his final goodbye. He looks like he wants to say something more, maybe to ask to meet again or something of that nature. Instead he swallows and exhales, “We don’t need another universe to continue being there for each other.”

“No, we don’t,” you agree.

He turns around, bidding you another a small goodbye when his eyes briefly flit to your face. You offer him a small wave in response, watching his broad back retreating out the room and the sliding glass doors. Heading straight for the elevator doors as soon as his silhouette disappears from view, your shoulders relax instantly in the safety of the enclosed compartment.

Perhaps this universe still had a lot left to offer.

99 notes · View notes

threeeyesslitthroat · 4 years

Text

So I watched Chaos Walking(2021)

Yeah, lucky for me, my local theater was open and showing(side note, I love my local theater so much. Like, not to brag but seven dollars for a movie and a snack is so great)

Anyhow, I watched Chaos walking. This is sort of my review.

First off, I read The Knife of Never Letting Go and one third of The Ask and Answer, almost two years ago. When they finally dropped the release date and the trailer, i made the choice not to go reread the first book because i wanted to give the movie a chance and make an exercise of managing my expectations(in preparation for Disney’s Percy Jackson adaptation). Which means not only do I not have a complete understanding of the source material, but I also have a shit memory, so I don’t have a great shot at analyzing this films in adaptation terms, but i’m gonna try anyhow.

So first off, The Noise.

I found it a bit sketchy that they decided to make the make Noise have visual elements alongside audio but I decided it was fine, since it be pretty hard to bring this to life with only just audio and not make general audiences confused.

But they did try and do a solid job. Minus not letting us hear the Noise of animals, which sucks. we do see the Noise of a Spackle, but briefly.

The part that really pisses me off is the final confrontation, when the Noise is treated like a Super Power. we see this when Todd scares Davy’s horse by conjuring up an image of big snake, when Mayor Prentiss tricks Viola into a false trap, when Ben tricks everyone by pretending to give Viola up when in fact he’s buying Todd and the real Viola time to get away, and in the final, Todd distracts Prentiss by conjuring up the image of his mother(complete with bloody wounds) and the various women that died when he was a baby, which caused Prentiss to fall to his death.

I don’t know how the Noise is depicted in the later books, if it was anywhere remotely like this, but i know for sure it doesn’t happen in the first book, which the film is based on.

(Also, how the fuck does Todd know what his mum looks like, or any of the other women and how is he able to bring up their images so perfectly how is ANYONE ABLE REMEMBER SOMEONE WITH THAT MUCH DETAIL That goes beyond photographic memory)

Second bit, the Spackle.

The design is boring. Its clearly an alien, buts its dark grey, tall, holds its own when Todd attacks it in the film, has zero impact on the film as a whole and pretty boring. I do recall reading the book and imagining them to have faces similar to real world lemurs or Sloths, with big expressive eyes and such, but the CGI monster doesn’t emote for shit in this film. Todd comes at with a knife with every intention of killing it and it shrugs him off and walks away like it wasn’t fucking attacked my gods.

But in short, they only brought up the Spackle because they’re a thing in the world and it teased the bigger concepts of the next books with like, one measly exchange between Todd and Viola. (it went something like this)

Viola:We’re the aliens, though. They’re the natives.

Todd: huh.

Third bit, New World itself. Not a big deal, It looked like how i originally imagined it, no mention of swamp apples, though we see Todd Hewitt use a knife to stab a big ass bug thing for food. i hear some critics consider it lame that the planet isn’t actually alien but eh, whatever, Didn’t really feel an alien vibe reading the book so it doesn’t matter.

Now there’s one bit i have to acknowledge in passing. At one point Todd decides to go get lunch by going into the water with his knife and wrestles with some big ass thing with tentacles. Which is fine, just have a couple of questions.

A: is this in reference to the books? Where there big ass tentacle creatures in the novel that are hunted for lunch?

B:if not, was this the film makers deciding to remind the viewers that yes, they are not on planet earth and to make Todd look cooler and justify why he’s useful for the quest and show how much Viola doesn’t know?

I kinda have to acknowledge the thing. In that scene, Todd and Viola take a break, and Todd removes his clothes (all of them) and decides to go hunting in the water naked as the day he was born. You may have noticed that the Tom Holland stans are all over this scene because One) the camera focuses on Tom Hollands muscles when he takes his top off and Two) one can see his bare ass in the distance.

Not a big fan off this, just find it interesting because its the most recent example of a Male being objectified by the camera when this never happens once to any of the female characters in the film, including Viola. Also, a touch of weird character detailing because haha, get it? Boy’s never seen a girl before in his life and doesn’t know what modesty means.

Also, very weird because Todd Hewitt in the book was so fucking self conscious that he would never have done that.

Now I gotta talk about the characters.

( i understand why they aged them up, i truly do, better to get established actors instead of child actors that could more easily break to movie than sell it. its easier to make movies with legal adults instead of working with child labor laws. but damn it you lose so much of the fucking nuance of the novel when you age them up. There’s so much shit that makes an impact because of how young they are. Around the ages of eleven and twelve is when ones understanding of good and evil has its foundation, to me it was like the story was grappling with Todd Hewitt’s very soul and you lose so much of that when you change it to them being older because instead of being just kids in fucked up situations its younger adults in messed up situations. Like ugh. and aging them up leads to even more problems but we’ll fucking get to that)

Tom Holland’s Todd Hewitt is not the Todd Hewitt of the novel. He just ain’t. There is nothing there that reminds of the boy. The acting is solid, don’t get me wrong, but it just ain’t the Todd Hewitt i remember. Neither is Daisy Ridley’s Viola Eade.

(excuse me while i get Percy Jackson flashbacks)

Now, I have to acknowledge the fact that neither actor(actually none of the actors in this film) slouch on the job. They bring solid and at times very good acting.(If Tom Holland is in the film, its not going to be complete waste of time. He brings quality.)

Honestly, respect to Mr Holland because he was basically the main character, not only acting but also doing voice and various stunts(also huge credit to the stunt coordinators and stuntmen) and I heard that filming wasn’t that great and bloody broke his nose how many times like damn boy, hats off to you.

But here’s the thing. I don’t want to say that Holland was playing himself or just a version of peter Parker, because i really don’t think he wasn’t but it just. Didn’t feel like a legit character? Especially when compared to the novel. Like Todd Hewitt in the novel is such a raw force of emotion and such a smartass and i was so looking forward for Holland to own this role but in the movie he just? Awkward dude going through some stuff?

but yeah, Holland works his ass off and there are some scenes and moments in the movie that work just because this fellow is just that charming, so (shrug emoji) like i said, He doesn’t waste your time at least.

Ridley....sigh. i know this woman can act. But next to the character who’s thoughts are heard constantly she’s very boring. And it hurts so much because Viola has an actual personality in the novel like; I’m ninety percent sure that Viola hits Todd with a big stick and I do remember that there were multiple moments where she lets Todd know when he’s being a dumbass.(seriously, i may have a shit memory of the book, but i do remember that they play off each other well and hugely entertaining seeing two twelve-year-olds handle the shit getting thrown at them)

Like, Viola in the film doesn’t really have much going on. We see the crash, we hear about the graves she dug herself, we see her be sad, we see her look at Todd like weirdo, we see her look horrified or shocked. (its so sad that I only remember the facial expressions more clearly than the actual dialogue) We really have no idea what the hell is going on with Viola Eade. I don’t think we can blame Ridley, only the film makers, because how can you see Viola Eade in the novel and then turn her into that????

i do have to talk about the relationship between Tom Holland’s Todd Hewitt and Daisy Ridley’s Viola Eade, even though its painful. In the novel, them is just two kids on a really tough adventure. Because they aged them up, its not two kids old enough to run for the playground when recess starts. Its Teenagers.

First question, HOW OLD ARE THEY??? Is Todd sixteen? Eighteen? Seventeen? He sure as hell ain’t Thirteen in this. What about Viola? I mean, big shout out to the hair and makeup team for making 28-year-old Daisy Ridley look so much younger but how. OLD. IS.SHE? Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? Pretty sure she’s older than him in this? I ask because it MATTERS.

The way they play off each other has a vastly different energy to the novel because they are aged up. Its pretty obvious pretty fast that Todd’s feelings are basically a big crush, though not all of it is superficial as the film progresses. And Viola is clearly not receptive to that in the film. (honestly i cringed so hard at the “daydream kiss’ and whatever the hell that was in the Farbranch mayor’s house)

The relationship in the film just doesn’t have the nuance or the energy that the novel had in depicting their relationship which is depressing for all the Todd x Viola fans i’m sure. There’s some adorable bits though, like Viola seeing Todd’s dream of her playing with Manchee, and not so adorable canon bits like when Viola read the diary to Todd.

I’m just grateful that the film at least ended with them being friends instead of trying to force the romantic relationship. That right there is why I like the movie. It’s a crush, its used for a couple laughs, they’re friends, its fine. Even if you didn’t read the novel that’s really great for a movie in this day and age to not end with forcing two opposite sex characters into a relationship. To be honest, I like the idea that the film leaves us thinking that yeah, maybe these two could be real friends one day.

I just want to touch on Manchee real quick.

Manchee’s Noise is not seen or heard in the film. It is briefly acknowledged by Todd ins their first scene but other than that? Nada. Which is a low blow in comparison to the novel because Manchee was a character in his own right, which is why the death hit so hard.

Todd?” he barks, confused and scared and watching me leave him behind. “Todd?” “Manchee!” I scream. Aaron brings his free hand towards my dog. “MANCHEE!” “Todd?” And Aaron wrenches his arms and there’s a CRACK and a scream and a cut-off yelp that tears my heart in two forever and forever. And the pain is too much it’s too much it’s too much and my hands are on my head and I’m rearing back and my mouth is open in a never-ending wordless wail of all the blackness that’s inside of me.”

in the film, it takes place in white rapids, So its chaotic, its awful, the veiwer’s all stressed out because Viola can’t swim, everyone's getting separated and Aaron’s there and he is seen drowning Manchee.

Dude, its brief, but not pretty. Because you can see Manchee’s legs trashing above the water, struggling to get free. Aaron is drowning a dog, letting its lungs fill with water. For the folks that don’t like watching dogs die in graphic detail on screen, this isn’t great.

Personally, I love this scene in the novel. Its the first time i had to put the book down and take a moment. It hit really close to home for me, because i watched my own dog die in real life. It was emotional and horrifying and had such a fucking impact because we could hear his thoughts. Todd had to make the choice to leave him behind to keep Viola safe. To be honest, i think the death is better in the novel, since Manchee basically dies instantly instead of drowning, which takes time(I’ve always assumed that his neck was snapped but I’ve heard others say it was the psine but whatever) it would have been easy and necessary for them to not show that on screen. I personally just think that in terms of depicting a violent death, the novel did a lot better.

Anyway, on to the other characters

(I had to choose the one with the big orange fluffy coat, and i couldn’t find a good pic og Ben and Cillian on google images.)

As for Mayor Prentiss, he’s played by Mads Mikkelsen, and he delivers. But for the most part, we don’t really know why he’s the bad guy, he just wants to get Viola because “she’s the key” which isn’t really explained, and at the end he tries his hardest to kill Todd.

Because i only read the first book, I don’t know what exactly his character arc is. And since its been a really long while, I don’t remember what he’s like in the novel regardless, other than the cliffhanger ending.

I did take a quick crashcourse through the wiki and it turns out that Todd and Prentiss have a relationship in the later books, which the film sort of touches on, because Todd looks up to Prentiss in the film from the get go.

To be honest, I knew that the trilogy was a lot more complex, and even though I didn’t read the whole thing I knew it would be really disappointing for the fans to see the mayor be hollowed out to almost unrecognizable and not getting to see the whole picture on screen.

As for Davy Prentiss Jr., he was an asshole and stayed an asshole. I know he improves and gets killed off in the novels, so yeah, exhibit B of character foundations not being laid down because there isn’t gonna be a movie after this. Also, why is he played by Nick Jonas? Did they actually have more in mind for him when they decided to go with a Jonas brother or was it just star power?

As for Aaron...don’t have much to say about him, other than just being pretty weird fit to the film. I think he’s after Viola because he’s just that full of delusions but other than that, his character is just flat and useless. (I wish to the gods that writers would actually think instead of going with “religious delusion” to explain insanity) He only brought tension in a few scenes for the most part. I’m pretty sure that in the novel Todd and Aaron have a confrontation, like the final fight of the novel, and I’m 90% sure that its where the Novel gets the Knife of never Letting Go as its title, because the knife is big deal at that point. But I guess they wanted Viola to have a quick boss battle for the ending and set him on fire.

Ben and Cillian were fine. They did a good job, the actors were pretty great, I liked Cillian, and i like how they acknowledged that these dudes were family(i know that they’re gay and a couple but the film doesn’t say it outloud beyond letting them sleep in the same bed, be Todd’s parents, and having Ben hold Cillian in his arms) I get a kick out of the fact that the official reviews by Movie Critics are openly curious about why the film doesn’t make it more obvious that they’re gay, but whatever.

As for the overall plot, this is a fine example of mashing three books into one film and not having good results. Instead of going to Haven, the movie decided to shortcut the ending and go to the original ship that somehow has working tech but whatever, Viola needs to communicate to her ship. So not only do we not get the great relationship between Todd and Viola, not only do we not get the Spackle, Not only do we not get to see the noise of Manchee, not only do we have poor character adaptation, we also don’t get to have a plot that matches THE ONE BOOK THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO ADAPT. THEY HAD ONE FUCKING JOB AND THEY COULDN'T ADAPT THE ONE BOOK-

Its only so sad that they decided that this was going to be a one-shot deal because they didn’t have faith in the film and chose to have all the threads tied up. I mean, its so sad for the fans because the movie makes it very clear that we are not going to have anymore movies. sigh.

slight respect towards the film makers for tying up all the story threads instead of leaving them hanging. they did a neat job, even if it wasn’t a great one.

Anyway, maybe later on when google images has more than the promotional material I’ll do a review of only the good stuff this movie did, even if its a sad pathetic failure of an adaptation. Anyway this review is a bit of a mess and already so long so i’ll stop now.

May the gods give us strength against all the Tom Holland stans that will inevitably clog up the Chaos Walking tag with their Todd Hewitt x reader fanfics.

#Threeeyes speaks for once #messy film review #took forever to do this #i truly do feel for the Chaos walking fandom #As a Percy Jackson fan #I can only say #First Time?#Chaos Walking #Knife of Never Letting Go #Tom Holland 2021 #Daisy Ridley 2021 #Viola Eade #Todd Hewitt #Chaos Walking 2021

23 notes · View notes

juvinile · 3 years

Text

* HALEY LU RICHARDSON , CIS FEMALE + SHE / HER | you know EDEN ROMANOV , right ? they’re TWENTY - THREE , and they’ve lived in irving for , like , ON AND OFF THEIR WHOLE LIFE ? well , their spotify wrapped says they listened to SAFE PLACES BY CASSIDY KING like , a million times this year , which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole LACING YOUR MARY JANES SO TIGHTLY THEY LEAVE MARKS , WIND BLOWN SILK OVERSHIRTS , STRANDS OF FRESH CUT HAIR LEFT ABANDONED IN THE SINK TO WILT thing going on . i just checked and their birthday is SEPTEMBER 16TH , so they’re a VIRGO , which is unsurprising , all things considered .

TW INCLUDE internalized homophobia tw, homophobia tw.

AESTHETICS :

lacing your mary janes so tightly they leave marks, wind blown silk overshirts, strands of fresh cut hair left abandoned in the sink to wilt, light academia compulsions, using pressed petals with the thorns left sharp as bookmarks, falling apart inside the safety of your own room, putting yourself back together in a broken mirror, tight ponytails and tighter features, stretching yourself thin as elastic, bittersweet pomegranate, strawberry chapstick layered over clear lipgloss, reading the wrong script, world domination.

CHARACTER INSPO :

hermione granger (harry potter), cameron post (the miseducation of cameron post), the white rabbit (alice in wonderland), martha gellhorn (hemingway and gellhorn), dolores abernathy (westworld), nina sayers (black swan), emily dickinson (dickinson), caitlin park (the infinite noise), margaery tyrell (game of thrones)

GENERAL STATISTICS :

full name : eden anastasia romanov

age / dob : twenty threee / september 16th

gender : cis female

pronouns : she / her

faceclaim : haley lu richardson

orientation : homosexual / lesbian

residence : port apartments

occupation : intern in the mayor’s office

pinterest : HERE !

BIOGRAPHY :

eden anastasia romanov. born and raised in irving (though at times it felt like the romanovs lived in behind the walls of their own private castle, operated a few steps ahead of everyone else. eden ate it up), eden was one of the younger romanov’s. her father, vaughn romanov, was a senator who recently decided to run for town mayor and her mother, adelaide romanov, was a philanthropist.

she always always always looked up to her eldest sibling, cain. it seems this was a common thread for the romanov siblings see abel. (played by james and bri blows a kiss)

very much born with a silver spoon so far up her rear, she was always her father’s precious angel. very much her father’s daughter. she knew cain was the one with all of the pressure but this only drove her to crave success more. she was determined to make her parents proud, even if the weight on her shoulders was completely self imposed. all her parents wanted from her career wise was to marry well and look pretty. more on this trauma later.

her and her siblings were expected to be more than involved in school and their community. she was a cheerleader and a gymnast, top of her class, president of the debate team, sang in the church choir. she was a perfect smiling face for her mother’s philanthropy events and stood next to her siblings at all of her father’s rallies. she played two instruments and spoke as many languages. she made it look easy.

there wasn’t very much time for eden to make friends. she only had a handful, girls she’d grown up with in the gymnastics gym, and she knew people that gravitated towards her really only had their eyes on her family’s money. (erm. maybe thats just ur weird trust issues eden but idk im not a therapist) because of this, she was exceptionally reliant on her siblings. they were the only ones who understood what it was like to be spread so thin you snapped.

(homophobia tw) she was the first of her family to spark controversy, though it never got out, when her mother caught her kissing a girl from her cheer squad in her car parked in front of their house. though her parents didn’t fully mind, this news would be bad for her father’s campaign so eden wasn’t given a say. the romanov’s would make it go away. she still had to appeal to the wealthy sons of her parent’s aristocratic friends. you couldn’t really do that with your tongue down a girl’s throat, now, could you e?

her father bribed the girl’s mother to take her daughter off the cheer team. this was also the day eden decided she would be a politician. there was no question. she couldn’t feel helpless anymore. was it equal parts about besting her father for making her best friend go away? perhaps. eden wouldn’t admit that. she wouldn’t admit a lot of things.

deeply liberal. a stark contrast to the republican (centrist. but still.) values of her parents. a rift was drawn between her and her parents. she was no longer her father’s little girl. she wasn’t the romanov that could do no wrong. she was yet another family black sheep, who had a lot of making up to do if she wanted back in wealth’s good graces. she felt abandoned by her parents, an issue that she would grapple with for the rest of her life. (end of tw)

her grades dropped after this. she considered running away but in the end she graduated high school. she wasn’t valedictorian like she had always hoped, but salutatorian still looked good on college apps. eden was never known for giving up, but she wasn’t usually known for coming in second place either.

it was really hard for her when cain left to.. wherever it was they went off to. (she’s still afraid to ask) she was in college, pursuing a political science degree, and she suffered more than she would ever let on. she didn’t sleep much at all, the entire year. she accomplished very little, focused solely on keeping up the image she’d worked so hard to craft. if she could survive this she could survive anything.

screech (the sound of tires coming to a halt). cain came back. conveniently, eden made the decision to take a gap year and come back for a second senior year at university. it wasn’t related. she did this for herself. (she didn’t)

cain didn’t remember her when they came back. nothing hurt worse than this.

she’s going through a lot right now. she’ll b fine.

don’t know where to fit this in but she owns a cat named lady d named after her role model princess diana. she’s mean and bites people a lot but eden thinks it’s endearing.

PERSONALITY :

determined. type a. organized. studious. go getter. tenacious. shrill. hot tempered. prone to fantasy. escapist. withdrawn. tightly wound. deeply in need of catching a break. ankle biter energy. ruthless and bloodthirsty, can and will destroy anything that gets in her way? stuck in her head. strives so hard for perfection, low self esteem. unforgiving with mistakes. especially her own. thinks she doesn’t need anyone else. really really needs someone else. indulgent. likes luxury and doesn’t apologize for it, but isn’t loud about it either. princess locked in a tower waiting for her knight in shining armor energy. does this make sense.

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

other irving hs students her age that were also really hard workers in school. the people she competed with and also competed alongside.

other members of the cheer team. first girl kiss anyone? first girl kiss?

siobhan is her ex girlfriend from college that she broke up with because of all the internalized homophobia. does this spark any connections? lmk.

a boy she’s dating to appease her parents. not sure if she’s doing it to get them off her backs or because she really wants to prove herself to them. probably both.

hi hookups anyone? she might be pretending to date a guy but that doesn’t mean she’s a sadist. let’s have fun.

ok who sells her weed. god knows she needs it.

anyone who grew up going to her mother’s events. suffering through stuffy socializing together. eden was really good at it it was probably annoying.

does anyone need a roommate in port? she’s really clean and keeps to herself but her cat does bite. warning. her cat does bite.

anything else i can’t think of but. i’m sure there’s more.

#ˏˋ ◟ * EDEN ROMANOV ／ BIOGRAPHY. ˎˊ #irvingintro #homophobia tw #internalized homophobia tw #hiiiiiiii everyone #forgive me for her<3

19 notes · View notes

swimyghost · 3 years

Text

Snazz's Birthday Bash

TODAY IS @holyfandomsnazz 's birthday today! EVERYONE WISH THEM A HAPPY B-DAY!

@self-insert-nonsense @wickedhellagoodtime ARE HERE TOO!

The heat was getting to everyone. Even though the region was known for its cooler summers compared to the rest of the country, the wave of moist warmth was ruining the entire Roomies' day.

"Swimy," Snazz said, their blonde hair frazzled and covering their weary eyes, "did you pay the goddamn rent for the electric bill?"

"Unfortunately, until I get my ID, I'm still a minor in the eyes of the law," the recently made adult replied, pulling their blue hair away from their sweat covered brow, "so, no, I didn't pay the fucking electrical bill,"

"Well, couldn't you have gotten your ID earlier!?" Snazz shouted.

"I wasn't eighteen until three days ago, genius!" Swimy fired back.

Formerly lounging on the couch, the pair were now locked in a fierce glaring match with both of them looking like they were ready to fight each other.

"You're the adult here, why didn't you pay!?" Swimy yelled.

"Because I haven't been paid yet!"

"Neither have I!"

"Enough!"

A pink-haired figure stepped out into the living room with a tired, yet annoyed, look on their face. In her hand was a paper bag with the name 'SIN' scrawled on the forehead which was dotted with sweat stains. Their floral patterned shirt was just as ruffled as Swimy's hoodie and Snazz's gray shirt. Putting both hands on their hips, the eldest member of the roommates frowned at the duo.

"Do you want us to get another noise complaint?"

"No," Snazz grumbled, leaning back into the couch.

"But Dawn-" Swimy started.

"No buts!" Dawn interrupted, "it's already hard enough to find a four-bedroom apartment in our price range, I don't need you guys making it harder,"

Snazz raised their hand, "Technically my room is a former closet,"

Dawn turned their gaze away, clearly embarrassed, "It still counts,"

"Why can't we just ask your boy toy to help us out?" Swimy questioned.

"Karamatsu is just as much in a financial struggle as us and you know that," Dawn said with an even deeper frown.

"What's the point of a man if you can't even get him to pay your rent?" Snazz muttered.

All three went silent for a few moments before Dawn sighed, "I get my Patreon money at midnight. When is the latest we can pay?"

"The sixteenth," Swimy replied.

"And what day is it today?"

"The fourteenth,"

"Okay, so tomorrow I need to-"

"Oh shit really?" Snazz said, their eyes wide.

Both Swimy and Dawn blinked in confusion. "Is that a problem?" Dawn asked.

"No, no, it's not that," the blonde waved their hand nonchalantly, "I just... Well... It's my birthday tomorrow,"

"What?!" Swimy exclaimed, "I didn't know your birthday was in the same month as mine!"

"I- We're siblings how did you forget!?" Snazz said with their nose scrunched up.

"You know I'm bad with dates!"

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Dawn asked, ignoring Swimy's outburst.

"Hey, I forgot it myself," Snazz raised their hands defensively, "besides... It's not like we celebrated it much anyway,"

The oldest and youngest of the Roomie siblings glanced awkwardly at each other as an uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Several moments passed before Snazz stood up with a grunt. "I got commissions to finish. I'll pay the rent with that next time. Later,"

Dawn reached out to grab hold of their sibling, but they managed to dodge their grasp and entered their room swiftly, closing it with a soft thud. While the apartment was dead still, Dawn and Swimy rushed over to one another and began talking in hushed tones.

"How could you forgot Snazz's birthday!?" the pink-haired singer whispered angrily.

"You forgot it too, don't you try and deny it!" Swimy countered back in an equally low voice.

"Well... Did you get them a present?" Dawn asked anxiously.

"I forgot that Snazz's birthday was even this month, did you really think I'd get them a gift?!"

"Well, I don't have anything either!"

The two sighed, but their emotions were still running high. They had under twenty-four hours to purchase a gift for their sibling with the little amount of money all of them had, all while a desert-like heat filled the region in its unbearable cloud of misery.

"Alright, get your shoes on and try to get Sam out of their room," Dawn ordered, referencing their other sibling.

"What for?" Swimy asked, already reaching for their shoes near the old front door.

"Because we need to go out and get Snazz a gift before it's too late! They already probably think we're a bad sibling so we need to hurry and get something they like!" Dawn explained.

"Alright, alright, keep your voice down!" Swimy hissed, glancing over at Snazz's room.

Dawn nodded and began putting on her shoes while Swimy rushed over to the third oldest Roomie sibling. They grimaced at the yellowing paint on the walls as they swiftly knocked on the door.

"Sam. Sam! I know you're in there and we need you!" the blue-haired teen begged.

"...Go away," a muffled voice stated tiredly.

"Sam, we forgot about Snazz's birthday! All of us need to go find a gift for them!"

"...I'll search online for something. I'll Venmo you some money,"

"Ugh! Why won't you just come out!?"

"...Too hot. Too bright,"

"...That's fair,"

"What did they say?" Dawn asked, all ready to go. Swimy walked over to them with a huff.

"They said they'll look online for something," Swimy complained.

"Let me guess, it's too hot for them?" Dawn guessed.

"Bingo,"

"Well," the eldest sister sighed, "we don't have time to argue. We have a birthday to save!"

"Alright! Let's do it!"

---

"We're not going to be able to do it!"

Dawn looked down at the completely worn-out Swimy, watching as sweat rained down off their body onto the asphalt road as they were uncomfortably hunched over. Their blue hoodie was completely ruined hours earlier and had been tied around their waist in a desperate amount to stay cool, revealing a Mothman T-shirt underneath the read "Eat. Sleep. Lurk.".

"C'mon, one more store," Dawn said with exhaustion seeping into her voice. Her floral pattern blouse and her skirt were completely soaked in sweat and her skin was beet red. Still, determination held strong in her green eyes as she tried to pull her sibling up.

"No! No more stores! We've been into too many stores!" Swimy whined, resisting their sister's efforts.

"We need to find a birthday present!" Dawn argued.

"And I need to find a new therapist but you don't see me spending nearly four hours walking in unbearable heat to find one!" Swimy growled, motioning towards the setting sun, "besides, I think Snazz is starting to think our "double date" excuse is a little suspicious,"

Dawn sighed, "I know... But we need to prove we care about them. Just one gift will be enough,"

Swimy's eyes darted to the side, "I care too... But don't you think that maybe I caused Snazz's forgetfulness? That I'm the one to blame?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean," Swimy looked uncomfortable, "I was the youngest and born literally four days before their birthday. Snazz's birthday has always been overshadowed by me, the "baby" of the family,"

"Swimy-"

"What if... What if I'm the reason Snazz forgot? That I've been a terrible sibling this whole time and I've been blissfully unaware? That I've been able to happily celebrate my birth while they've been forgotten,"

Dawn, nothing tears welling up in their eyes, pulled Swimy close, "Don't talk like that. I doubt Snazz blames you for your birthday or the fact we never celebrated theirs as much as kids. If anything, they should blame Mom and Dad for that. You have nothing to do with this,"

"But... We if they do blame me?"

"Then we have to show Snazz the perfect gift!" Dawn gave her young sibling a tight squeeze, "What do you say? One more store?"

"...Yeah, one more," Swimy looked up concerned, "but how are we going to find one that-"

Suddenly, Swimy's phone went off with a loud buzz. Startled, the pair broke apart while Swimy awkwardly fumbled around with it. There was a single text sent by Sam:

I'm making a pie. I also found something Snazz will most definitely like.

Attached was an address to a nearby store. Sin blinked in surprise after she looked it up.

"It's a weird occult and true crime store. What does this have to do with a birthday present?"

"Who cares!?" Swimy proclaimed with a big grin, "we have a lead! And you said we needed to look in one more store!"

Dawn, still looking unconvinced, simply nodded, "If you say so,"

With that, the pair took off, ignoring the shouts and glares of passerby's. Dawn and Swimy managed to weave their way through tight alleys and crowds with ease with their newfound energy. It wasn't long before the two were situated outside a dark-colored store with black tinted windows. Crystals and occult symbols were carefully hung visibly through the glass. While Swimy appeared eager, Dawn seemed less than sure.

"You okay?" Swimy asked.

"Yeah just... It's creepy," Dawn shivered.

"...I'm married to Death's ferrywoman, Dawn," Swimy lifted their hand, showing off their black and silver wedding ring.

"That's different!"

"It really isn't,"

"Fuck off!" the pink-haired girl shoved Swimy into the store.

Inside was surprisingly bright which went against the darkness of the clothes, books, and crystals. The wood made a hollow thud with every step. Shelves were spaced in rows that carried various occult items. Walls were lined by clothes and posters containing demons or hard-core metal bands to-

"Is that Al Capone?" Dawn pointed at a poster.

"Yeah... And that's Haurkichi Yamaguchi," Swimy motioned to another poster, referencing the creator and former head of the Yamaguchi-gumi yakuza organization.

"Ahem,"

The Roomies siblings turned and, across the store, was a teenaged Japanese cashier. She had a combination of boredom and exasperation as she parted her black hair from her eyes. "Welcome to Crimes and the Concealed, a true crime and occult experience where there is something for everyone," she waved her hands less than amused for a supposed to be dramatic effect.

"Uh... Thanks," Dawn replied, nudging Swimy forward.

"If you buy one poster, the other is 15% off,"

"Thank you! But we're looking for something else!" Dawn hastily shoved Swimy into the back of the store, away from the prying eyes of the cashier, who seemed equally glad not to deal with them.

"That was rude," Swimy glared

"Sorry! This whole shop gives me the creeps," Dawn whined.

"I'm never taking you on a double date to the Underworld," Swimy muttered, blissfully unaware of the sound of the store door opening.

The siblings went looking for something buy, pouring over the many candles and strange objects as the setting sun remained a looming reminder of their limited time. After looking at the fifteenth crystal necklace, Dawn was about to give up when Swimy let out a gasp. Dawn instantly turned and was stunned to see what was hanging in the corner of the store.

Body pillows. Over a dozen body pillows of famous gangsters and criminals from Billy the Kid to Calogero Vizzini to Pablo Escobar, the rather morbid idea of placing known men that went outside the law for their evil deeds in alluring poses made the two shiver. But the one that caught their eye was the lone female in the mix. Long lavender hair matched her dazzling amber eyes. She donned a pirate outfit with a black corset that complimented her figure. Black boots with gold accents that reached to her knees, similar to how her all-knowing smirk reached across her face.

Dawn reached out and touched the pillow, "That's... Snazz's girlfr-"

"MY WAIFU!"

Suddenly, two large men shoved past the Roomie siblings. One had thick-rimmed and lens glasses with a greasy ponytail and sweat and grease-stained shirt that showed a bunch of underage anime girls in tight clothing and the other looked similar but had shorter black hair with glasses that blocked out his eyes and was slightly skinnier than his friend but still wore questionable attire.

"Oh my dear waifu, how I've looked for you for so long!" the ponytail man wailed, almost crying on the pillow.

"Hey! We had our hand on it first!" Swimy said, shoving past their older sister and glaring at the men.

"Eh!? What would two normies want with this?!" the smaller of the two gasped, his green jacket fluttering with the sudden movement showing that he had two anime girls sitting on their knees with one only wearing an open suit and fedora and the other an Italian suit with a cigar in her mouth.

"Did you use normies unironically?" Swimy muttered with disgust.

"You two don't get it clearly!" the larger man snorted, "If you were real fans of Chibi Wakai Gyangu No On'nanoko, you'd understand how rare this pillow this is!"

"Chibi Young Gangster Girls?" Dawn repeated the title, confused.

Both men turned their attention to Dawn. The ponytail man spoke first, "It's an anime where all the famous gangsters are turned into cute little girls! But the modern-day pirate mob boss can't be added because she keeps targeting the animation studio anytime they try!"

"I wonder why?" Swimy rolled their eyes.

"Quiet pipsqueak!" The jacketed man yelled.

"Easy, Kurai," the larger man leaned into Swimy's personal space, "those this one look like Al Capone-chan?"

Kurai blinked then let out a small smile, "She does, Terro! All she has to do is change her hair and-"

"It's 'they' and you stay away from my sibling!" Dawn shouted, pulling Swimy behind them.

"Shut up, pinkie! You have no right to judge since you're cosplaying that Sin idol!" Terro shouted.

"Their boobs are clearly fake! They're such a fake cosplayer she can't even get her most noticeable features!" Kurai pointed out.

Dawn gasped and wrapped her arms around her chest. Swimy leaped forward and practically hissed at the two, "We're taking that pillow and you're going to leave us alone, or else!"

Terro sneered, "Or else what?"

With the snap of their fingers, a bright blue beam of blue particles swirled around Terro's head. He tried to swat them away, but the blue solidified and turned into a dense water bubble around his head that spun like a cyclone. He tried to scream but inhaled a bunch of water instead. Kurai immediately went on the defense and tried the grab hold of Swimy. Dawn, realizing that talking wouldn't be successful here, stepped aside as Swimy leaped backward and willed her hand into a fiery blaze. With a primal scream, she slapped him full force, sending both him and his glasses flying in opposite directions. A bright red handprint was left on his face. A sudden gasp alerted the siblings that the water bubble had burst. Before they could react, Terro was on top of Swimy and trying to hold them down.

"You crazy bitch!" He screamed, trying to land a hit on the smaller person.

Swimy used their free leg to deliver a swift kick to the stomach before headbutting him off them. He groaned in pain and rolled onto his side. Dawn took this opportunity to light her foot ablaze and slam it down right onto his crotch. He howled in pain as his pants and his manhood were burned by the attack.

"Get the Hell out of here before we do worse!" Dawn ordered, readying their fists with Swimy following close behind.

Whimpering, the two took off running, leaving behind Kurai's set of glasses and several clothes that had fallen during the scuffle. Tired, Swimy grabbed hold of the body pillow and trudged towards the register. The cashier trembled as they set it down.

"W-Will that be all?" she stuttered.

"Yeah," Swimy replied bluntly.

The cashier nodded and quickly rung up the pillow. She practically shoved the item into Swimy's arms and nearly dove under the counter. Dawn rested a weary hand on Swimy and sighed.

"C'mon, let's get out of here before the cops arrive. We have a birthday to save,"

---

All Snazz wanted to do was sleep. Not only had they remembered that their birthday was a thing but they had spent the whole night trying to finish commissions in an attempt to forget it again. Even though their body was worn out, their mind was rushing with memories of all the birthdays that were forgotten of the years.

It's like they never cared Snazz thought.

They rolled onto their side for the hundredth time that night, trying to force sleep to come. What they didn't expect was their door to suddenly slam open and a large weight crashing onto their side.

"Oof! What the fuck-!"

"Wake up, sleepyhead! Time to have the best day you've ever had!"

"...Swimy?" Snazz looked up, seeing the smiling face of their youngest sibling looking down on them. They had thick eyebags that hung from under their eyes that balanced out their high amounts of enthusiasm radiating off them.

"Do you know another blue-haired bitch that's related to you? Now come on before I drag you out!" Swimy exclaimed, pulling on Snazz's shirt sleeve.

"I'm still I'm my pajamas and I haven't even showered!" Snazz argued, trying to resist their pulling.

"You also haven't cleaned your room in two weeks but you aren't worried about that!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck yourself!"

With the help of both their powers and natural strength, Swimy managed to help drag Snazz out of their bed and made them cover their eyes.

"This is stupid," Snazz grumbled.

"You're stupid but I love you anyway. To the kitchen!" Swimy shoved Snazz forward.

After several near attempts of Snazz crashing into a wall and one toe snubbing, they made it to the kitchen with Snazz less than amused.

"This better be good,"

"It is! Now... Open!"

Snazz did so and gasped. Not only was their favorite pie, chocolate coconut perfectly sat on their rickety table, but a large wrapped present was sitting beside it. Snazz and Sam, wearing their infamous multi-colored gradient mask, stood there with birthday poppers and wide grins.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SNAZZ!" all three siblings shouted, pulling the poppers and sending cheap confetti everywhere. Instead of being excited, Snazz stood there motionless with a blank expression. After a brief pause, Sam leaned over and whispered into Swimy's ear.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Swimy whispered back.

"Swimy," Sin said sternly.

"I didn't! Honest!"

Sam crossed their arms, "Well why are they-"

Wails exploded from Snazz as fat tears ran down their face. Immediately, all of their siblings rushed over and began to comfort them.

"Is it the pie? Is the pie not good enough?" Swimy asked nervously.

"I made that fucker by hand! It's perfect!" Sam yelled.

"Well if I have to be blamed for something so do you!" Swimy yelled back.

"Was it the poppers? God, I knew they were a bad idea!" Dawn nearly pulled their hair due to stress.

"You wanna go?" Sam snarled.

"Yeah, let's go!" their blue-haired sibling smirked, readying their fists.

Snazz grabbed all three of them and pulled them into a tight hug pile on the floor. Still crying, they managed to choke out a few words.

"I-I'm so happy! Y-You did a-all of this fo-for me!"

"Of course we did! We love you Snazz!" Dawn said, flinching as Snazz began to cry harder.

"C'mon, open the gift!" Swimy said, pulling the present down to the group.

Snazz didn't hesitant into tearing it open. They gasped in shock when they saw what it was.

"Is this my girlfriend? On a... Body pillow?"

"Don't ask how we got her," Dawn butted in.

"I-"

"Don't. Ask."

"I- Alright. Thank you. It's a lovely gift," Snazz said, setting it aside.

"Let's eat the damn pie already. I spent all night working on it so let's put it to good use," Sam said, standing up.

"I'll get the plates!" Sin called over her shoulder.

"Lemme get the forks and knives!" Swimy started to rush over to the drawers.

While the three started to gather everything for their meal, Snazz watched them fondly. They grabbed ahold of their new gift and squeezed it tightly.

Whatever being rules this hell of a universe... Thank you for my siblings... And thank you for this birthday.

#happy birthday snazz!#tw assualt #hope you like it

5 notes · View notes

kuronanox · 4 years

Text

Childhood promises - Hisagi Shuhei

"Shuhei wake up! It's snowing!" (Your Name) says putting on her torn up shoes while running outside. Rukongai in the winter was harsh and they were poor but it didn't mean they weren't happy.

"I'm coming!" He calls out putting on his robe and touching the white floor.

She was playing with the snow and smiling. He shyly watched. "Come on!" She yelled out and grabbed his hand.

"Ahh!" He protested and stood next to her and she smiled.

"Let's make something!"

They made a snowman and laughed as it fell apart from their poor attempt of it.

"I'm hungry (Your Name)." He says clutching his stomach.

With a worried face she walks back into their house and looks at what they had left. "Here eat this."

It was the last of their rice balls they had.

"But you won't be able to have any."

(Your Name) smiles and gives it to Shuhei anyways. "It's okay eat it."

Looking at the rice ball he broke it in half.

"Thanks." She smiles and eats it in one bite.

Shuhei zones out in the office and smiles sadly to himself. He had missed (Your Name) deeply and regret being a weak friend at the time.

He remembered he thought of her as family, they had no one. Although she was 5 years older than him (Your Name) worked hard for them.

Shuhei remember she worked at a small stall in rukongai and she made enough money for them to live enough to survive. Although they starved from time to time they were happy.

Kensei walks in with papers and places them on Shuhei desk. "Need these done by tomorrow."

"Okay Captain."

Kensei stares at Shuhei and walks out the office. He noticed that his Vice Captain had been spacing out recently but he didn't want to push any matters that were unnecessary.

"Are you okay (Your Name)?" Shuhei asks with teary eyes as he watched her wrapped a cut she got from work that day. "I'm okay thanks."

She smiles and sets down some hot soup she warmed up, although there was no rice today.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

"I played out in the fields with some friends."

"Fun, I'm glad you made it back safe."

"Actually... we were almost killed by a hollow."

"What?! Shuhei you could have gotten killed!"

He looks down and starts to cry. "I know, I'm sorry I was so scared. I couldn't do nothing. It was so big and strong. I didn't want to leave you either."

(Your Name) pulls him to an embrace like a mother would and kissed his head. "It's okay you are safe now."

"I met a Captain, and he saved my life. It made me realize that I wanna be a Shinigami when I'm older. I can take care of us and get strong!"

(Your Name) laughs and ruffle his messy hair. "Okay one day, promise me."

"I promise!"

The next morning they were rudely awakened when their door was knocked down and a group of men came in.

Shuhei eyes frighten as (Your Name) became alert and pulled him behind her.

"Your the bitch that sold us the fake metal." One said and grabbed her harshly.

"(Your Name)!" Shuhei yells and runs after her but she stops him.

"Don't come after me!"

He panics and watches as she struggles to get off the grip of the men. They were dragging her somewhere unknown.

"Leave her alone!" Shuhei screams and grabs the stick to hit the men.

Shuhei was sent flying a few feet in the air as they punched him and his nose bleed. He wanted to cry but he was losing (Your Name).

As they dragged her off Shuhei was left with one other dude as he beat Shuhei black and purple.

Lying on the floor (Your Name) was out of sight as he cried and ran to find her.

He screamed and fell to the ground.

Shuhei grips his hand in a fist as he laid in bed looking at the ceiling. He thought about (Your Name) wondering if she ever survived.

Rubbing his eyes he pushed the tears threatening to fall. She had sacrificed everything for them and he couldn't even save her that day.

The next morning Shuhei walked into the publishing office and greeted everyone with a smile. It was a new day and new opportunities waited for him.

"Me and Renji are giving some rookies a tour of Soul Society wanna join me?" Kira asks him as Shuhei had to pass. "Um nah seems kinda boring but good luck though!"

(Your Name) ended up stuck with a group of new comers like her as they toured the place, the blonde dude was kinda bland and gloomy but he showed everyone the important stuff which was the only thing that mattered.

"What squad do you wanna join?" A girl as her as she looked around amazed at the place.

"I'm not sure yet! I guess any that accepts me!"

Passing all the barracks Kira goes into the editing room. "And this is where we publish all the paper work, stories and headlines. The head of editor and chief is Lieutenant of Squad 9."

Shuhei greets everyone and smiles talking about how fun and hard working the publishers are.

(Your Name) looks at him with confusion. He didn't state his name but he looked familiar to her. "My name is Hisagi Shuhei! I can't wait to see what squad everyone joins!"

"What a minute? That's!"

"Okay everyone follow me." Kira boringly says and walks them out as she turns to find Shuhei but he was already gone talking to a few coworkers.

"I guess I'll catch up to him at another time. He's so grown now."

She smiles knowing that he successfully took care of himself. Although the scar and 69 was new.

"(Your Name)?" Shuhei calls out as she washes the rice for them that night.

"Yes?"

"Will you ever leave me for someone else?"

She tilted her head in confusion and laughs. "What do you mean?"

"Like if a guy came and you liked him."

"No silly, we have each other."

"Promise?"

"I promise! Trust me when you get older all the ladies will swoon for you."

"He's so hot!" A few girls giggled to themselves as they continued the tour.

By night time came they entered a dorm place for all new comers. Tomorrow was the day that they picked their squad whether they wanted to be in it or not.

(Your Name) was placed under the 6th squad, which to her seem pretty good because her Captain was a noble and everyone seemed fairly strong. Although she wasn't nearly as good as a seated officer she didn't mind working her way up.

"Abarai Fukutaicho?" She calls out one day as he turns to her. "Um? Do you know where I can talk to Shuhei?"

"Uh?? You mean like the Lieutenant from squad 9? Are y'all close like that?"

"Yes, I'm his childhood friend. We lost contact a long time ago but I just found him."

Renji was bewildered, he didn't know much about Shuhei past but it sounded a lot like him and Rukia so he couldn't reject her.

"Yeah I'll let him know."

Shuhei was in the middle of a rush when Renji walked in. "Yo! Someone was asking for you!"

"Not now! I'm kinda busy." Shuhei states skimming through the papers rangiku messed up on.

"It's (Your Name) she really wants to see you." Renji says as Shuhei drops the papers and looks up shocked. "You mean it?!"

"Yes, like she's in my squad and everything."

"Where?! Where is she!" Shuhei yells with a big smile on his face as he gets up from his desk.

"Woah woah calm down!" She's over at the fields training-" without letting Renji finish his sentence he made a run for it.

Renji smiles and scoffs. He was happy knowing that the reunion was going to be a good one.

Shuhei saw her with her sword training hard as she sweated and concentrated on her spiritual energy. "(Your Name)!" He yells out as she turns to him.

She smiles and ran towards him as they pull each other in a embrace.

"Shuhei! You're so grown now!" She says and he crushes her with his inhuman strength now. "Well you're so tiny!"

They let go as they both couldn't stop smiling. "How?" He says as she sat on the grass as he took a seat next to her.

"Remember when they took me, I managed to escape but we were so far away I couldn't find the way back home."

Shuhei groans and looks down. "If only I was strong back then, I would have saved you."

"It's fine, you were a kid. I don't blame you."

He smiles softly as she touches his face and he starts to blush. "What happen to your face?" She asks with concern.

"Don't worry, just battles and the 69 is something I got from the man that saved my life. He's actually my captain now."

She laughs and lets go. "Well you succeeded, now you can protect me from now on."

2 years later

"Why don't you tell her!" Hinamori pouts at Shuhei trying to push him into the restaurant.

"Be-because it's weird! She was like an older sister to me."

"But you like her right?" Rangiku jumps in unintentionally popping her breast out as Shuhei looks away in awkwardness.

"Better tell her before someone else beats you to it." Kira adds looking into the restaurant spotting (Your Name) dressed in a nice kimono waiting for a certain childhood friend.

"Come on! Renji even asked Kuchiki Taicho to reserve the best restaurant in Seireitei right now!" Hinamori says making Shuhei feel a bit guilty that Renji made the effort to beg his captain.

"Oh fine fine fine! I was going to do it my own pace but since everyone is telling me to."

Shuhei takes a deep breath and enters the restaurant.

"Shuhei!" She calls and waves him over.

"Sorry I'm late, how was your day?"

"It was good! I can't believe you got a place like this for us!"

Shuhei sweats a bit and drinks some water before answering. "Yeah me too."

"Ahh little Shuhei is so handsome now." (Your Name) smiles and push the messy part front of his hair away from his eyes.

He blushes and grabs her hands with his. "You've grown to a fine lady also... but you kept your promise."

"What promise?"

"Remember when we were little, I didn't want you to leave me for another man."

(Your Name) laughs and covers her mouth with her free hand and tighten her grip with his hand.

"Of course, why would I want anyone else?"

"I wouldn't want anyone else but you (Your Name)." Shuhei confesses as she drops her smile.

They had been through so much she could see a life with him and he could see a future with her. A future with laughter and happiness where they no longer starved or lived poor.

"I'm making enough money for us and I'm strong enough to protect you now. That means I'm the man I told you I wanted to be and the man you deserve to have."

She chuckles and set their hands down on the table as she rubs it softly.

"Always, I don't see why we wouldn't work out. The future tied us back together."

Shuhei grins like the child he once use to be and boldly kisses her from across the table.

"I've been waiting for this for years, our first kiss."

"And many to come." (Your Name) adds with a blush.

#bleach #tite kubo #hisagi shuhei #shuhei hisagi #bleach shuhei #renji abarai #abarai renji #kensei muguruma #izuru kira #kira izuru #momo hinamori #hinamori momo #rangiku matsumoto #matsumoto rangiku #bleach x reader #bleach oneshot #bleach oneshots

105 notes · View notes

inkribbon796 · 4 years

Text

It’s Not Rabies, It’s . . . Ch. 3

Summary: Lunky gets to meet some more of the family.

A/N: This was a suggestion-request from the anon Nightfall on AO3. Which resulted in this story and since this one was getting a bit long it inspired a bit for the Visitation Day on Sunday which will be a lot less angsty.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Chapter 3: Meet the Family

Bim was on stage when, apparently, Dark had contacted Wilford, saying to come to the Manor when they both finished up at the studio.

Which Dark tended not to do unless it was something serious. Usually he ordered Illinois and Yan to jump at his command.

But Wil took him home and they found Dark’s office empty. Which was strange because all his important meetings with them were in there.

There was talking in the living room and Wil quickly poked his head out of the room and let out a delighted gasp.

“Now who is this delightful little configuration of being?” Wilford threw open the door and Bim followed more hesitantly.

Bim stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Dark with a child in his arms. He looked at that kid and he could feel his hackles rising.

“Hello,” Wil leaned in close to the child, bracing his hands on his knees. “Are you lucky number seven?”

The spawnling screeched at Wil.

Wilford chuckled, absolutely delighted. “Is that so?”

The madman looked up at Dark with a huge smile, “Their hiss sounds a bit like your echo, Darky.”

“They’re Kay’s child,” Dark told Wil. “Their name is Lunky.”

“Really?” Wil’s enthusiasm didn’t dampen, he clapped his hands on his knees and stood up to look around. “Where is that boy?”

“Hey dad,” King smiled and waved at Wil from where he was sitting in an armchair.

“Congratulations my boy,” Wil moved to his side to clap his hand on King’s shoulder. “Who’s the lucky partner I’ve never met?”

“No one,” King told him. “I got stabbed by a soul splitter and almost died. It gave me a kid instead.”

“That sounds fake as shit,” Bim told him.

Lunky made a little screech.

Wilford roared with laughter, “Learn quick, don’t you?”

King surged up, “Are you teaching my kid to curse, I have to deal with that later.”

“Kid’ll learn sooner rather than later when Anti shows up,” Bim defended with a huge smile on his face as King stomped over to him.

Before King could shake or punch his younger brother, Dark spoke up, “Let’s not Kay.”

The animal magnet threw his arms up in the air, and glared at Bim, “Next time I get you alone you insufferable brat.”

Bim gave him a sharp toothy smile, “Try it Dolittle.”

“Bim, if you keep antagonizing him, you might not win,” Dark warned.

“So to clear the air, this is my nephew?” Bim asked, walking over to the spawnling who maintained eye contact with Bim and both of them began a low warning growl as Bim approached.

“Bim,” Dark warned, shielding Lunky with his aura. “They’re not competition, leave them alone.”

“That’s not why I’m growling,” Bim growled defensively.

“Then why are you growling?” Wil chuckled, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch and resting his chin on the palm of his hands.

Bim glared at Wil before huffing in frustration at Lunky.

“To answer your earlier question, no Lunky is not your brother. You were, to quote Beauregard, a “creation of pure science” and since I killed the other scientists it’s not happening again anytime soon. Besides there are already six of you, and you are all grown adults. Having another child would serve no purpose.”

“I could get a sister,” Yan called as she ran from upstairs with a binder of colored squares and started holding the colors up next to Lunky’s face. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some quality girl time around here?”

“I don’t control that,” Dark reminded her, neither he nor King moving Lunky away from her.

“Come now Darky, we’d get to have another angel running around the house,” Wil pouted.

“That’s what grandchildren are for,” Dark reminded.

“Yes but we have to give them back,” Wilford frowned sadly. Then he seemed to think about that. “We could not give them back.”

“Dad, I am right here,” King reminded. “We don’t live here.”

“A shame,” Wil commented, then he held his hands out. “May I hold them, pretty please?”

“Just don’t kidnap them,” King allowed.

Dark passed Lunky over to Wil, Lunky made an unhappy screeching cry and tried to hold onto Dark’s coat.

Wil chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you back to him.”

Lunky was suddenly very quiet, going completely limp, their eyes large dark orbs as they started devouring Wil’s aura.

“What a little delight,” Wil smiled. “Can they talk to animals too?”

“No, it’d be so much easier if they could,” King sighed.

Dark walked over and lessened the spells keeping Lunky 3-D and they popped back into their actual form. Wil almost dropped them but Dark caught the spawnling.

Lunky quickly stretched onto the wall and started investigating the room.

“Huh,” Bim commented, “weird gift, do they sleep on a drawing of a bed or an actual bed.”

King let out a bubbling, uncomfortable laugh, “They don’t.”

“What? Sleep?” Bim asked.

“Yes,” King answered. “I’ve barely been sleeping.”

Dark pulled a scroll from the Void and passed it over to King, “This is what I used to use on all of you.”

Looking Dark dead in the eye, King said, “You are the best, if this even works half as well as it did on me.”

Dark smirked at him.

The conversation kept going and Bim went off to hunt again and Wil raced off to the attic with Yan to find something. Leaving Dark, the Host, and King alone with Lunky in the living room. The spawnling seemed to be resting but King knew it wouldn’t last and he would actually go to sleep.

Lunky was resting against Dark’s shoulder, still a flat image, and Dark was just sitting in one of the armchairs, watching them rest.

“You know,” King commented. “When they’re like this, I kinda forget they can be an absolute nightmare.”

“Hopefully that spell works for you,” Dark replied.

“How long did it take Bim to start talking?” King asked. “We came in when he was already talking and walking.”

“We got Bim when he was eight months old, he was walking before he started talking. Wil accidentally said the word “fuck” and that was his first word. I was furious. He started talking when he was almost two. Lunky is a little bit more developed than Bim was. However, Bim was completely artificial.”

King made a face that showed that he wasn’t too reassured by those words. “Okay so should I be doing something?”

“The Host should suggest that there is a strong possibility that Lunky could never be able to fully speak,” the Host warned.

The room went quiet.

“Is that caused by something in their aura?” Dark asked.

“It is something within Lunky’s nature,” the Host reported. “There is a possibility that the Host is wrong, but the Host doubts that.”

“Okay,” King said.

Dark frowned, “A large portion of the heroes can sign, you and Illinois can sign, so can I, Wilford seemed to be able to read his mind. Communication shouldn’t be an issue. It would be a shame if we wasted their time and sanity trying to push them to communicate in a way that makes them uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” King was very quick to agree, taking in a huge breath and nodding, looking more resolute by the second. “I can talk to birds and dogs. Humans are just another animal, right?”

“Some more so than others,” Dark offered as a barbed comment.

King looked nervous as he looked at Lunky, “I just don’t want to hurt them. I want them to be happy and safe.”

“You’ll do fine,” Dark reassured.

“Because you raised six kids?” King tried to smile.

“Well experience certainly helps,” Dark smiled. “But I meant to say that you won’t be trying to raise this one in secret like I did with all of you.”

“How did you manage that, anyways?” King asked. “We went to Disneyland one year. Dad broke an entire rollercoaster and killed fifteen people.”

“I used the Anomaly to perfectly replicate areas we wished to take you,” Dark answered. “I even replicated police involvement to keep your father entertained.”

“You absolute ass,” King cursed. “You took us to bootleg Disneyland?”

The Host chuckled at that.

“I will have you know it took a full year to investigate the entire park, including how character actors and crowds reacted,” Dark defended. “Did you expect me to bring Wil, Bim, and Arthur to an actual theme park and have nothing happen?”

“Fair,” King grumbled, and then groaned as he checked his phone. “Alright let’s get back to the base.”

“Before you leave,” Dark held up his hand and a necklace with an eye design on it. It swirled with a myriad of colors. “Something I had to learn the hard way. Spawnlings require aura to survive and grow. Like physical activity for a human. Their own will not feed them. So you have a choice: human or demonic aura.”

“To eat?” A pit formed in King’s heart.

“Yes, a new spawnling can strip all the aura from a human and render them a hollow, dry husk, matured demons have more control over it,” Dark warned. “What would you like to feed your child?”

“Uh, how do I get demon aura?” King asked apprehensively.

“Well now that depends, either an older, more experienced demon can donate their aura to a younger one, helping that spawnling grow stronger,” Dark explained. “Or you could kill a lesser, weaker demon and take all their aura to make oneself more powerful.”

That alarmed King instantly. “Demons can actually die?”

“Not from a single hit or even a volley of hits, killing a demon is a drawn out process but if the lesser is significantly weaker and the other demon is significantly stronger the fight is almost not fair. I have to kill some upstart every couple of months who tries to wander into Egoton thinking they can just take over. Typically I can just run them out and if they’re smart they won’t come back, other demons not so much. Why not put all that energy to good use?”

“O-Okay,” King allowed.

“I figured you would side with the humans so I took the time to mix my own aura with another demon’s that I recently subdued,” Dark told him. “At Lunky’s current appetite this should last him a couple months.”

King moved to put on the necklace but Dark stopped him. “Try to avoid putting it on, we wouldn’t want Lunky to associate you with food, now would we? You have far less aura than I do.”

“Right,” King pocketed the necklace and King took Lunky back who was upset to leave Dark’s arms and aura, but was quieted when they were given the necklace to chew on. Wil and Dark said their goodbyes. The Host took Lunky and King back to the base.

A calm settling back over the city.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Markiplier #Darkstache #King of the Squirrels #Yancy the Prisoner #Lunky #Darkiplier #the Host #Wilford Warfstache #Bim Trimmer #Yandereplier #Domestic fluff #discussions of demonic cannibalism

19 notes · View notes