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chipper-smol · 3 years

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Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Relic Coffee Shop

Prompt

Prompts:

1: Lemm finds an odd fellow at the Blue Lake. Normally he wouldn’t bother to approach a stranger out of nowhere, but something in his gut urges him to take action. Quirrel, feeling the effects of age on his body, stares incredulously at the bearded face of a stranger who apparently wants to have him over for coffee. 2: Lemm sets up shop in an abandoned cafe. It’s roomy and pleasant at first, but there are _stacks_ of these disgusting old bitter coffee beans clogging up the rooms. It doesn’t help that bugs keep coming in to order a drink even though he’s posted signs to _KEEP OUT!!_ However, once they start offering Geo be begrudgingly takes it as an opportunity to achieve funds to pay for relics. 3: At first, the coffee was just an excuse to get Geo to pay for relics, but Lemm’s begun to notice that bugs who wandered into his shop with the telltale early symptoms of infection no longer have them on their return visits. He tells himself he’s not an altruist. He’s _not._It’s just a waste to throw out old coffee when someone just needs a pick-me-up.

By @bluwails

------------------------------- By @hydrochlorinate

“Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Else.”

Those were the words that came out of the grumpy barista’s mouth that fateful day. One’s that you completely ignored, as you had already been drinking what could only be the drink of HIgher Beings, with just how heavenly it tasted.

Grinning like a lunatic, you give him 45 geo, not a small sum. If anything though, it was hilariously cheap for a drink that was this good. The bug doesn’t complain about the amount though, so he’s probably fine with it. Wings fluttering in excitement, you leave the shop, ready to tell any remaining survivors about the amazing drink shop you just found.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

The next time you come in, the store is absolutely packed. Denizens from all across the ruins of Hallownest are here, ranging from some uninfected moss knights to that one ladybug that you had a dance off with a while back. There's even a noble here, and- is that a mantis?

Anyway, it looks like your very subtle method of giving publicity to this cafe by talking about literally nothing else to whomever you talked to over the following week paid off. Good, this place deserves all the atte-  “You.”

Oh? You snap out of your thoughts, and look towards the counter, where the barista is levelling a glare at you that could instantly wither those delicate flowers that have been spreading around recently.

You stroll on up to the counter, a grin stretching across your face. The barista narrows his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep this a secret? Why is my establishment filled to the brim with bugs? Who are these people?!”

...huh. Did he tell you to keep it on the down low? It seems in character from your limited interactions, but you don’t remember exactly. Oh well, time to play it off. You tell him that, well, what can you say except you’re welcome.

You’ve never seen a bug go from “Irritated” to “Ballistic” as fast as this barista. Usually they make a stop at “Angry” or “Absolutely Livid”.

“YOU’RE WELCOME?!?!”  No, see, he’s supposed to say thank you.  “THANK YOU???”  You tell him he’s welcome, before laughing. No, really, you tell him, look around, the place is packed! Business is booming! The barista (you should really ask for his name) manages to bring his volume under control, taking in a deep breath.

“That’s part of the problem. I’m a relic seeker, not a-” He gestures around the cafe, as if looking for the right words to use. Barista, you suggest.

“Exactly. I’m not made to brew coffee-” Oh, that’s what it was called. “-or to be dealing with customers all day long.”

Sure. That’s why he decided to allow people to keep purchasing coffee, or why he decided to put on a cute green and white visor.

You didn’t just come to check in on your new favorite bug though, you have coffee to order! Taking out a sheet of paper from your bag, you begin to read out both your order, and those of your companions. Even with the end of the infection, the leftover damage to hallownest’s caves and architecture makes it dangerous to travel alone.

As you begin to read out your order, the barista shifts from crotchety old bug to attentive worker. You really wish you had come back earlier, instead of letting some of your other traveling buddies pick up the coffee for you. Something about the atmosphere here is… relaxing, despite the amount of people.

After your order is finished, you leave the cafe. Back to the real world bucko, as an old friend of yours would always say.

...Wait a minute you never got the barista’s name.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

It’s been 3 weeks. You think. Time gets a little funky down here, what with the sudden influx of void. Sure, most of it has cleared out by now, but every so often your exploration party comes across a tunnel that hasn’t quite been fully illuminated, the shadows just a bit too thick to be natural.

You enter the coffee shop again. It’s gotten a lot quieter as time went on and bugs started coming in on a schedule. There’s still plenty of other customers here, but it’s nowhere near as packed as the first couple of days. Lemm (yeah, you finally got his name) stands at the counter, still slightly disgruntled, but a lot less so than he was at the beginning. In fact, he’s actually talking to someone right now! An actual conversation too, not just an exchange of witty remarks. You can’t see their face, but they appear to be a pillbug wearing a blue hood.  As you step up to the counter, you can hear their conversation a bit better.

“...of course, I couldn’t just leave it sitting there right? So I move to pick it up, only to find out that the desk I dropped it on was magnetized! So here I am, trying and failing to pick up this one plant hanger for a solid 10 minutes.”

They both laugh at this, before noticing you. The unknown bug turns to face you, allowing you to see his mask.  “Oh, hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before!”

You greet him back, introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Quirrell. I’m… well, I can’t really call myself an explorer, because I’ve already been everywhere! I’m more of a wanderer, really.”

Ahh, a free spirit, you see. You point out that just because he’s been everywhere doesn’t mean he’s seen everything. After all, who knows what could’ve gone down during Hallownest’s peak. Both Quirrell and Lemm get amused by this, for some reason. Seeing your confused look, Lemm decides to speak up.

"He probably knows more about Hallownest than everyone here, having lived here since before the infection and all."

Your eyes widen, and your wings begin to flutter. Truly? An original denizen, and not someone else trying to piece together its history? Quirrell waves off the words, though.

"I wouldn't go that far…" He begins, but Lemm cuts him off before he can go any further.

"Hah! Next you'll be telling me that you weren't the head assistant of the kingdom's best scientist!"

Giving off the equivalent of a blush, Quirrell rubs the back of his head. Lemm turns back to you.

"I'm sure you didn't come in just to chat, though. What can I get for you?"

It's nice to see him making friends.

------------------------------- By @schyrsivochter

Lemm wasn’t a sociable person. That was a fact. He wasn’t good at talking, or at being friendly. (It wasn’t like he needed it, anyway. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed conversing with another bug.)

No, Lemm was much more of a person for reading. Deciphering the journals of the long dead, the writing and languages, was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Other artefacts spoke differently: the materials from which they were made, the way they were worked, the artistic style. It was a different kind of reading; some might say a more figurative one. But it was just as interesting.

Of course, architecture was part of that. It had not been a coincidence that Lemm had set up camp in Hallownest’s abandoned capital. When he’d arrived, he hadn’t dared to think that he’d ever finish exploring and finding new things. And it was true; he’d only explored a little bit before he’d realised that collecting and gathering relics was no use if he never took a proper look at them, instead letting them gather dust on the shelves, the tables, and the floor of the long-abandoned shop he’d moved into. So he’d decided to stay there, poring over his collection. His picture of the world of Hallownest in times past grew ever more detailed, more complete.

He’d opened the shop because people did not seem to stop wanting to sell him relics, and it never hurt to appear a little professional. And it had been a reliable source of new artefacts; new knowledge. He’d never sold anything, of course. His collection was his, and his alone.

And then came the dark. The cleansing void. It had taken him by surprise; he’d been working, and only noticed that anything was amiss when the light dimmed and he was finally bathed in darkness. He must’ve fallen unconscious at that point, and there’d been no telling how long it had been until he’d awoken. It hadn’t been until later that he’d learned that this was what had obliterated the plague, leaving in its wake hundreds of confused survivors and thousands of dead. No, the next thing to happen that told him things were not as usual was that a bug had come in, asked if he was open, and, upon his affirmative answer, asked for a hot drink, holding out a piece of ten.

Taken by surprise, he’d offered to make tea. He’d immediately regretted it, since it meant the bug would be staying for a while, probably without selling him relics, but it was easy enough to do and would get him geo, his supply of which had been running low. So he put a kettle on and took the money. The bug had thanked him profusely, while he had elected to remain quiet.

Not long afterwards, the same bug and four others stood in the doorway. Whether they had relics for him, he’d asked. They’d looked amongst themselves, and one had asked, ‘Is this not a coffee shop?’

‘I suppose it might’ve once been,’ he’d said. ‘Now it’s mine.’

More confused looks and standing around, and then the bug he’d seen before asked if he’d make more tea. He’d said no, not unless they paid him twice as much as the last time and stayed quiet and didn’t disturb him in his work. To his horror, the five bugs had agreed, and so he’d dug out cups from the coffee shop’s former stock and afterwards found himself a little richer in geo but with a significantly worse mood.

He had his peace afterwards, though. At least for a while. Now a bug had arrived, taller than the others, wearing a headscarf. Lemm had mentally prepared for the bug to ask for coffee, but the bug had halted in front of one of the tables that Lemm had repurposed for his collection of relics.

‘Admiring my collection?’ Lemm asked.

’Yes, quite!’ the bug answered, chipper and friendly. ‘I’m curious how you managed to get a hold of so many texts in such diverse languages! These are journals, are they not?’

‘They are,’ Lemm acknowledged. ‘From all over Hallownest.’

‘But most of them aren’t any Hallownest language.’ The bug put a hand on his mask. ‘I suppose they’re from travellers that came to the ruins and perished?’

‘Quite right,’ Lemm said. He had to admit, begrudgingly, that the bug standing before him was sharp and knew his history. A trait not many others shared.

‘Can you read all of them?’ The mask turned towards Lemm, inclined in question.

‘No,’ he answered truthfully, making his way around the counter to stand next to the bug. ‘I haven’t had the time to decipher all of them yet. But I’ll get around to it eventually.’

‘Interesting,’ the bug said. ‘I can—huh?’

He turned towards the entrance, and Lemm followed his gaze. Lemm was about to ask what the problem was, when a bug appeared in the entrance. The one that he’d made tea twice for. Ah yes, he thought. A customer. Two of them, in fact; one of the others from before had joined the one who’d taken a fancy to paying Lemm to make tea.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Lemm said, ‘there is any way to convince you to find tea somewhere else?’

The bugs shook their head.

Lemm sighed, and muttered an apology to the tall visitor. Time to get it over with.

He went to the back room to prepare the tea, and overheard the two visitors conversing in the front.

‘What’s this, anyway?’

‘Historical documents. Journals of travellers.’

‘What’s it doing here?’

‘I think the shopkeep collects them.’

‘That’s correct!’ Lemm called. ‘I’m always buying, if you have anything of historical value.’

He grabbed the cups and walked back to the front. ‘That’s fifty geo. Unless you have relics.’

The bugs complained under their breath, but paid up, and Lemm could direct his attention back to the visitor.

‘So is this what you do?’ they asked. ‘Opened the coffee shop again and collecting relics in your free time?’

Lemm was dumbstruck for a moment. Then he remembered to be outraged. ‘No! I am not opening this place as a coffee shop! People just keep coming and demanding tea and I cannot let an opportunity to earn easy money go to waste!’

‘Relic business not exactly booming, then, I assume?’

‘I’m—’ he spluttered, ‘It’s not a business! I don’t sell my relics, they’re mine!’

‘So you wouldn’t have any income if you weren’t selling tea?’

Lemm had the distinct impression that the bug was making fun of him. He didn’t answer, but simply walked up to the table, grabbed a random journal, and took it to his desk to try and get some work done.

He had not yet prepared his quill and ink when he was interrupted yet again.

‘You know,’ the visitor called, ‘that one is from a traveller from Greynest. Came here looking for his brother, never found him. No doubt said brother also perished in the ruins.’

Lemm turned around to see the bug standing in the doorway, having followed him halfway. ‘And how do you know this?’ he asked.

The bug shrugged. ‘I read it.’

Lemm regarded the bug. They didn’t seem to be joking.

‘You mean to tell me,’ Lemm began, slowly, ‘you know this language?’

‘Yes,’ they said nonchalantly. ‘I think I’ve been to Greynest? Must have been a while ago.’

‘Are you a traveller, then?’ Lemm asked. ‘You don’t seem the type.’

As soon as he’d spoken the words, Lemm became aware how utterly ridiculous it was of him to make observations about people. He didn’t like people, he wasn’t interested in people—

The bug laughed. ‘I am, in fact. I have travelled far and wide.’

‘Hmph,’ said Lemm, unsure what else to say. He turned back to his work, looked at the angular shapes carved into the stone, but now it seemed senseless to try and make sense of it when he knew that it was no mystery to the bug standing behind him.

At some point, he looked up and found that he was hungry and the visitor was gone. Oh, well. Time for a meal, then, and afterwards he might be able to find something else to do.

* * *

The next time the tea-drinker returned, they asked for tea and then asked Lemm about the relics, and he was in a favourable enough mood to talk about them. They asked some fairly stupid questions, but it seemed to come out of a genuine interest in the topic, so he indulged them. Plus, he had to admit that he enjoyed having a reliable source of geo. Not that he needed it much for buying relics, these days, but he supposed that his supplies of food – and of tea – would not last indefinitely, and he didn’t particularly fancy having to go back to scavenging, now that there were actual people living in the vicinity again. No, he’d rather find some place where he could buy what he needed fair and square.

The traveller with the headscarf returned, and it was an odd sort of feeling Lemm had about them. Like he actually liked having them in his shop and talking to them. And the perplexing thing was that the bug also seemed to enjoy conversing with Lemm. Which one one hand was absolutely preposterous, on the other … it was a refreshing change.

The bug introduced himself as Quirrel, apprentice to Monomon the Teacher, and Lemm could hardly believe it. Monomon the Teacher, one of the most brilliant minds of Hallownest? It couldn’t be! And yet it was not all too difficult to imagine. He’d seen stranger things in these lands.

Quirrel also was the one who later suggested Lemm officially open the shop as a coffee shop again. Lemm had thrown him out at that and gone back to work.

Now, a short while later, he looked up and Quirrel was back, standing at the counter, watching Lemm silently.

Lemm rose and went to the front, choosing to stare back equally silently. Lemm was good at that. Probably.

‘So,’ Quirrel said at length, his voice still as annoyingly friendly as ever, ‘have you thought about it?’

Lemm kept staring.

Quirrel held up his hands. ‘You need money, you don’t have much else to do, and besides’ – Quirrel shrugged. – ‘people like your tea.’

‘I certainly have enough to do,’ Lemm started. ‘These texts don’t decipher themselves. What’s so funny?’

Quirrel stopped his giggling and said, ‘They sort of do. Have you forgotten who stands before you?’

‘You don’t read all of these languages.’ Really, Quirrel’s ego was getting on Lemm’s nerves.

‘But most of them,’ Quirrel said, shrugging, ‘and most of the Archive’s records are intact. And we do have a nice section on language and writing.’

Lemm was silent for a moment, mostly because he could not think of a good comeback. Quirrel had a point, and Lemm did not like that in the slightest.

‘Let’s make a deal,’ Quirrel said. ‘I help you translate your texts and catalogue your artefacts, and you’ – Quirrel jabbed a finger in Lemm’s direction – ‘you sell your tea officially.’

‘Out of the question.’

‘You’re already doing it.’

‘I am not!’

‘Yes, you are.’ Quirrel said this with absolute certainty and no anger, and there was a voice at the back of Lemm’s mind that said: You really sort of are. And you could use the help. You don’t like the busywork anyway.

‘All right,’ Lemm grumbled. ‘Deal.’

‘Thank you,’ said Quirrel, audibly grinning.

‘I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’ Lemm asked under his breath.

‘I don’t think so,’ Quirrel said. ‘I’m curious – what else can you make? Tea alone is a bit boring, don’t you think?’

‘Shut up,’ Lemm said, ‘or I change my mind.’

* * *

Lemm did not change his mind, even though Quirrel didn’t shut up. It had been a while, and Lemm hated to admit it, but he enjoyed doing something different for a change. Customers were now plenty, and Lemm had a menu with more than one item, and his relic collection was no bigger, but more orderly and better understood than it had ever been, thanks to Quirrel’s – and the Archive’s – help.

Another thing that Lemm was not quite ready to admit was that people could be nice. The more he talked to customers, interacted with them, observed them, the more he began to appreciate them. He used to be content in reading historical texts and artefacts, preferring to learn about people that were dead and gone. Living bugs had never really interested him.

Nowadays, however, it seemed that people could be just as interesting to read as anything else. And, as Quirrel entered, greeting him, and he could not help his mood being lifted just by the prospect of learning something new and interesting that Quirrel learnt on his last trip to the Archive, Lemm supposed that sometimes, very rarely … people were something he could enjoy.

------------------------------- By @gardening-clown

------------------------------- By @buglife

Lemm was five seconds away from throwing someone through the window.

His shop was now occupied by five bugs of various species, talking, laughing, and sitting around when he could be in the back doing literally anything else. It took weeks of bugs thinking that his relic shop was a coffee one before he simply gave up and made peace with it. At least he got some geo from it to pay adventurers that did come by to sell legit relics. How they mistook his shop for a coffee one, he would have never guess.

All he had was a little brewer that was barely put back together that he scavenged from some random shop, but other bugs seemed to like it, for some strange reason. It wasn’t even good coffee he was making, but they seemed to accept it. After all, who else in this dead kingdom was even selling coffee? He had looted plenty of shops and took as many sacks of beans as he would when he first arrived, and there was no way he could drink them all, so he might as well do something with them.

But he was steadily losing his patience with the amount of bugs around him. They were talking and loitering. Loitering was probably the worst of it all as it made the loner bug feel his shell crawl with the forced social interaction. He just wanted them to leave. He couldn’t stand the feeling of a crowded space, which is why he went to a dead kingdom in the first place.

Hell, he had to take his beloved odds and ends down from the shelves to keep some curious bug from touching them all up with their dirty fingers and breaking something.

He found himself dreading the sound of the bell above his door, and when it rang he wondered if someone else was coming to ask him for some random drink or be an annoying thorn in his side.

To his hidden delight however, it was the little wanderer. They looked like a grub, to be honest, with a black body and a stark white horned shell for a head. The nail on their back seemed to be a little put together the last time he saw them, perhaps they visited the Nailsmith? He never asked for their name, he didn’t want to learn it to avoid attachments, but he found them oddly endearing. They liked to listen to him ramble about his theories on various relics they bring him, so they can’t be too bad. Plus they were quiet and polite, something he was immensely grateful for.

They bounced inside the door and came to a stop, looking at the five other bugs sitting around and chatting. They tilted their head to the side, watching the bugs for a moment before looking at Lemm. They stretched out a stubby arm from under their cloak and pointed at him.

Lemm sighed. Of course, the little Wanderer had been gone for a while, and obviously didn’t know what had become of his beloved shop. He gestured for them to come over, which they did and looked up at him expectantly.

“Bugs keep thinking that this is a coffee shop.” He explained. “So here they are, drinking coffee that I make on a terrible little brewer. I gave up trying to kick them all out all the time, it stopped being worth the effort.”

The little wanderer blinked a few times, looking somewhat confused. They pointed to the cup being held by the beetle on one of Lemm’s chairs and mimed the action of drinking it.

“Yes, that’s coffee they are drinking.” He raised a brow as he looked down at the grub. “Haven’t you ever seen coffee before?”

They shook their head.

“Really now? Hrm…” He wasn’t sure where the little wanderer had come from if they never saw coffee before. It was a fairly common drink besides tea. They must have grew up in a rather isolated place If they never saw it. He decided he might as well explain it, it would be better to do it now than later.

“Coffee is a drink that bugs like to drink to give them energy.” He saw them perk up a bit at the ‘energy’ part. “It’s rather bitter, so some like it with sugar. I like it plain. It keeps me awake when I am working.”

They somehow made a face when he said it was bitter, tilting their head and angling their eye holes to look affronted. Lemm squashed down a laugh at the expression and decided to get to business.

“Anyway, they trade me geo for it, which lets me compensate bugs that get me relics. Do you have any for me today?” He hoped they did, he needed something to brighten up his day.

The wanderer nodded, reaching under their cloak to pull out a black orb. Lemm recognized it immediately to be an arcane egg. He loved working with those. Peeling back each layer revealed new information and new discoveries. He was in fact, still working on the one he got weeks before. He needed to be careful with them, and he reveled in the intense focus and work it needed to discover it’s secrets. His day instantly got better.

“Very nice, I’ll be glad to take that off your hands for the usual price.” The old beetle held out his hand and the wanderer gently placed the egg it in. They held up a hand once it was free and shook their head, pointed to a cup sitting on the counter.

“Ah, you want to trade this for a cup of coffee?” He wasn’t going to say no to that. If the wanderer was okay with it, it was a perfectly reasonable business transaction. His suspicions were confirmed when they nodded and bounced in place, looking as excited as they were able to. “Well I can certainly do that.”

Thankfully, the two bugs occupying the chairs in front of the counter left, leaving behind their dirty cups and a few geo for the mess. They thanked him and he grumped out a ‘have a good day’ as they left, seemingly indifferent to his mood. Oh well, at least it brought down the occupancy to a more manageable level for his social batteries. He pushed the dirty cups out of the way and gestured to an open seat. “Here, sit down and I’ll get you a cup.”

They bounced upwards to take a seat, swinging their legs back and forth as they waited. It didn’t take Lemm long to throw some ground up beans and water into the grinder, watching the brewed coffee pour into a clean cup. He carefully carried the hot cup down and set it in front of the wanderer. “Be careful, it’s very hot. I’ll bring you some sugar, you didn’t seem to like the ‘bitter’ description.”

They nodded and watched as he pushed over a bowl of honey sugar and a spoon. It was the least he could do after they got him another arcane egg. “There you are, help yourself.”

They bowed their head in thanks and took up the spoon, poking it into the bowl.

“Excuse me,” One of the bugs by the window got up, the one with a bent antenna and holding their empty cup. “Could I get a refill, please?”

Lemm held back a sigh and nodded, taking the cup and heading back to his brewer. He had to smack it a couple times for it to start working again, but in the end he got a passable cup of coffee out of it. He returned just in timed to hear said bug exclaim, “Woah there buddy, you must really like sugar!”

He looked to the wanderer, who had added so much sugar to their cup of coffee, that he could hear the sugar that couldn’t dissolve scrape against the ceramic as it was stirred. It looked like fresh cement, there was only a bit of brown to denote that once, it was indeed a cup of coffee.

He wordlessly handed the other bug their coffee, who took it and retreated back to sit by the window. He was about to say something to the wanderer, when to his horror, their head tilted backwards. A maw of sharp black teeth opened wide, and he watched, astonished, as the mix of sugar and coffee oozed into their mouth and to who knows where. A long black tongue lashed out to get every last bit of sugar out of the cup, before the mouth closed with a quiet click. They must have felt him staring, because they turned to look at him with their fathomless, dark eyes. He stared back, wondering what the hell was actually sitting in front of him.

They then bounced in place and gave him a thumbs up. They made a shape of a heart with their hands, a way that they say ‘thank you’. They seemed rather happy.

“Um…you’re welcome?” He managed, after he gathered his composure again.

They sat still for a moment, seeming to ponder on what they had just consumed. He figured that they were probably trying to figure out if they liked it or not. He doubt they even managed to taste the coffee from the sheer amount of sugar in that cup.

Then, to his horror, they began to vibrate. At first it was a few twitches, and then it steadily became more and more severe, until they were a literal blur. The chair rattled under the stress and the bugs that remained in the shop turned to look at the commotion.

It was then, Lemm realized he fucked up.

They suddenly dashed away, slamming into the shop door with such force that it caved outwards. There was only the short sound of shattering glass and the scream of metal before it flew off it’s hinges and rattled down the hallway. He could hear the hurried pitter-patter of the wanderer’s tiny feet, now fast enough to blur into one continuous sound, race down the hall and out of sight and hearing.

He just stood there, looking at the wreckage of his shop door, wondering where the hell is he going to get a replacement, if there even was a replacement. He looked at the three shocked bugs, standing and looking at the wreckage, and then he got himself an idea.

“Hey fellas,” He said, as he turned and looked at the bugs next to the window. “How would you all like some free coffee if you find me a door?”

------------------------------- By @radical-mudkips

------------------------------- By @unregisteredcookie

Lemm's 'shop' was empty.

Actually, no, that… that wasn't right. Lemm's shop wasn't a shop in the first place--it was a haven for relics and ancient knick-knacks, and the shelves were filled to overflowing with stone tablets and peculiar eggs that held unimaginable information. Not that Lemm was ever able to crack into the eggs' shells, but he knew--he knew there was more treasured information sleeping beneath. If only he were able to open it up without risking that information being damaged.

And that wasn't right, either. The shop being empty, that was. Right now, the shelves were empty, but that was less because of the absence of relics and more because they were all stowed away in the back room to be sorted. He had a notebook he was combing over, quill in hand as he scribbled out little bits of information that might relate to one another.

'Might', because Lemm wasn't really from Hallownest. So he didn't know for sure whether this smooth L-shaped contraption was a door handle or a piece to a lost work of art.

It was while Lemm was scribbling about in this journal bound in parchment (hand-made and flimsy, using the paper he found around the area that was clean and allowed to dry) that he heard it: The distant clattering of the elevator. There were about seven options he could think of off of the top of his head, each more dreaded than the last. It could be that scarcely-seen Nailsmith who seemed to know more about the history of this ruin than he let on. It could be the peculiar little silent bug that stared up at him now and again, the one that sometimes passed by with a relic to sell. It could be that talkative windbag, droning on and on in his droning voice, so grating and persistent that Lemm struggled to ignore him. He was probably the worst.

Lemm stopped writing, tilted his head, and listened for the telltale sound. The rattling stopped, and all that he heard for a while was silence. And then.

Ding.

He sighed, getting to his feet. A customer it was, then. How delightful. Here's hoping that the customer wasn't 'Zote the Mighty'.

He had a small moment of dread when he saw the horn, a critical blow of dismay that tempted him to retreat back into the back room and pretend to be out for a walk, but then he saw the second horn and breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, it wasn't the Zote person after all. It was… them. The other little one.

They looked up at him as he approached the register and looked down at them. Their eyes were vacant as ever, face impossibly unreadable. Lemm doubted that he'd ever get used to it.

Lemm liked this little bug, if for no other reason than they were quiet, kept their hands to themself, and brought him relics to purchase. They were the only one willing to sell these relics, and they were the only reason Lemm often said what he said next.

"Cup of coffee, or looking to sell?"

He never had much company in this place until the Nailsmith (Lemm never caught his name, never bothered asking, really) first came in looking for materials for his smithing. Almost took one of Lemm's Pale Idols from under his beard while he was noting in his journal. After the initial yelling that followed and a cup of coffee, the Nailsmith apologized by paying for the cup. And he did it again. And again. Until the mapmaker came in, saw, and bought a cup himself. Until the hooded pillbug came in, hummed, and bought one for himself. And then--

Well. And then he had a coffee shop.

Lemm wished he could say that he hated it, and he did, at first. But over time, he found the company rather pleasant. Besides, the geo paid for this little bug's relic collection well enough, so he wasn't complaining.

So. Did they want a cup of coffee, or did they want to sell their relics? Lemm didn't get an answer. Instead, they looked around at the empty shelves for a moment before turning their empty eyes back onto him, tilting their head to the side slightly.

It took Lemm a moment.

"Oh, I moved the relics into the back room," he said. "I've been needing to work on sorting them out and writing notes about them. Never would I have thought that I would have so many to study."

Satisfied, they reached into the confines of their cloak. Lemm leaned forward a little, watching as they rummaged about for a moment, heart skipping a beat as he pondered what sort of relic they were going to sell this time.

And then they withdrew their small hand, reached up, and dropped a fist full of geo onto the counter.

Lemm blinked and stared at the geo for a moment. Something wispy and thin clung to them, and when he picked it up and opened the register, it was sticky. Was this webbing? Lemm wasn't aware of there being any spiders in Hallownest, aside from maybe that red-cloaked bug he saw very rarely flitting about outside his window.

So. No relics today. Fine, at least he'd have more money to buy another one later.

"One coffee coming up," he murmured, rummaging around behind the counter. Underneath the register was where he kept the coffee pot, which he refrained from moving just so he could be prepared if a 'customer' came by. He busied himself with it for a few moments, filling the filter and checking the water, before clicking the button and letting it steep. Granted, he didn't know what kind of coffee they'd drink, but they didn't make it clear anyway, so he doubted that it mattered.

Besides. They seemed a little preoccupied by something else at the moment. After a few minutes, the coffee was finished, and Lemm poured them a cup. He chose a caramel-like flavor, because they seemed about the size of a child and a little bit of sweetness never hurt anyone. Lemm reached over the counter and held it out to them, which they took in their hands and stared down at for a moment. Lemm was about ready to head back into the back when it happened. A crack. It almost sounded like something breaking, but when he turned to look behind himself at the small knight, they still stood there. Another crack, one that made his fur stand on end and his body stiffen, and Lemm caught the glimpse of something sharp and white shifting beneath the bottom of their mask.

A mouth?

They tilted their head back. A jaw opened. Many layers of teeth glimmered in the dim light, cracking as they did so, the noise chilling him through his chitin and making his hemolymph freeze. Lemm stood there, stock still, as they lifted the cup up to their face, jaw extending outwards to drink it, and then-- --they set the scalding hot coffee in their mouth, cup and all, closed it, and crunched.

Lemm had never seen a bug eat a cup of coffee before. He could still hear the crunch, crunch, crunching, muffled and quiet and growing quieter, noise sounding like a particularly crunchy tiktik being eaten.

Lemm shuddered. When the knight looked back at him, he turned around quickly and went into the back room.

Okay. Suddenly they weren't the second most welcome sight for sore eyes. Suddenly Lemm wished that it was that talking, yapping Zote fellow who came in instead.

------------------------------- By @doodle-chris

------------------------------- By @payasita

There was no shortage of open real estate as far as the City of Tears was concerned. But that certainly didn't make every option an equally viable living space.

First, Lemm wanted something enclosed away from the rain, and insulated enough to stave off the humidity. That discounted anything open to the outside, as he wouldn't risk his relics to even the threat of exposure. A leaking roof dripping down onto crumbling tablets or fragile spider silk could devastate hundreds of years worth of history, so that also discounted any room without a few protective floors above it.

Next, it had to be out of the way of any and all shambling husks and infected critters. They weren't the brightest of creatures, so a room only accessible by elevator was ideal. He'd never seen anything plague-cursed have enough wherewithal to operate one, and the noise of it would give him plenty warning of visitors otherwise.

Lastly, he wanted someplace with plenty of shelf space. He needed little in the way of actual living space, so long as he had ample storage room set up in such a way that things could easily be organized.

All of these qualities described, in his opinion, the ideal relic storage and research dwelling. And in the end, he was lucky enough to find it.

Unearthing the previous tenant's belongings informed him that it also, apparently, described the ideal setup for a small café. On his first day in his new residence, he'd uncovered an antique coffee machine and a few other ancient tools, kept miraculously free of rust and wear. The room's conditions must be far better than he thought.

He'd dusted his findings off and set them back up on the counter, having quickly deduced where they'd once been put to use through old nicks and rings left on the shellwood by years of service. Lemm had felt a small swell of pride at finding this small bit of the city's history, and began a set of notes on his theories about this tower complex and its surrounding culture from everything he found around. Perhaps the whole place had been a shopping centre.

On the second day, he pried open the crates in the back room, and they had spilled forth bags upon bags of beans and teas. There were so many of them that he was able to rationalize cutting one open and examining its contents without much guilt. The beans were coffee, that much was obvious at a glance.

Biological samples weren't exactly his area of expertise, but smell and texture alone all but convinced him that they'd been perfectly preserved in their airtight prisons, well dried and perfectly edible.

Most likely.

For the sake of research, and because the bag was already open, he put them through the machine. He committed some time to studying the machine beforehand, as he was afraid mishandling it may destroy it. But an hour of trying to figure the damn thing out was frustrating enough that he finally reasoned that if he did break it, he could at least take it apart and examine its insides for anything interesting. Lemm was a relic keeper, not a tinker. So he winged it with a bit of rainwater and the beans, and got wet beans and hot murky water all over the counter to show for it. He figured out the grinder and filter after his second attempt, and by the third, he had a mug of fresh coffee to show for his efforts. The scent that filled his shop and the outside corridor must have been nothing Hallownest had experienced in centuries. Lemm had little taste for the stuff himself, but in his experimentation he'd gone and made a whole pot. So he supposed he needed to acquire a taste for it rather quickly.

Luckily for his health, that turned out to be unnecessary. The smell, perhaps amplified in the ever-present petrichor, quickly attracted guests of the still-living variety. There turned out to be far more travelers and treasure hunters bumping around this old city than he'd initially expected, prone to tucking himself away in solitude as he was. Introverted or no, he happily gave the coffee away rather than waste it or risk giving himself a coronary. There were even a great deal of disposable mugs stacked away that just made it all the more convenient.

Just over the course of an hour, Lemm was graced with a fair amount of odd characters intruding on his doorstep. There was a surly fellow wielding a metal shield of some foreign make, who announced his intentions towards finding and conquering Hallownest's old colosseum. He was convinced it was still in operation somewhere. Lemm decided that if it was, the place was more than likely not populated with the sorts of honorable warriors this poor bastard was looking to prove himself against, but he kept his thoughts to himself and sent the boy off with a steaming cup of acrid bean water. Next came another traveller who gave off a more scholarly air than the first had, and who carried a more conventional weapon at his hip. The pill bug certainly acted more like a student than a warrior, all bright-eyed and curious and talkative. But no doubt he must know how to use that nail of his to have survived this far down and still be so cheerful. His stay wasn't entirely unpleasant; the two actually talked a short while about Hallownest's history and their shared learnings. The bug even tried to insist on paying, but Lemm was adamant that his reliquary wasn't a damn breakfast nook, thank you, keep your geo. But if he really wanted to pay, Lemm would certainly take any interesting artifact or trinket the bug happened to pick up on his travels. They eventually came to an agreement: A journal pilfered from a shrine somewhere in Greenpath for an extra cup for the road. Lemm's next visitor was, of all things, a cartographer. This one was far too involved in his work for much conversation, which was fine by Lemm. But he did manage to barter a cup for a map of the city. It was incomplete and bare of any landmarks, much to Lemm's disappointment. Finally, an odd little wanderer walked in almost soundlessly. They did not speak to Lemm, nor did they give any indication that they were here for any specific reason. But they had acquired an old city crest and a King's idol on their path, and Lemm had a more typical exchange of geo for relics with them. And then because it was the last of the coffee in the still warm pot, and because the little wanderer did not refuse, he sent them off with a cup on their way out. Thankful to be rid of all the blasted coffee and done with the uptick in social interaction, he then washed the pot and continued with his normal studies. It was nice and quiet, now.

But then the next morning, the pill bug returned. And he was surprised (and clearly disappointed) to see the coffee pot empty. It was a shame, he'd said. For he'd gone and found himself another journal, and considered a relic he couldn't use for a hot morning's drink to be a fine deal indeed. Lemm was inclined to agree, for how it saved him his geo in case of a more potentially significant find down the line. He turned the machine back on at once at the prospect. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to brew just one cup, and was still rightfully intimidated by the old, fussy contraption, and not inclined to mess with what worked. So he made another full pot, and talked shop.

The pill bug wasn't the only one to return that day. The would-be gladiator came back, still not having found his destination, and had the gall to just expect another drink. After the deal he'd just made, Lemm was feeling markedly less generous than he had been the day before, and informed his nasally guest that he'd have to barter something old and interesting for it.

The ant grumbled and left, but returned a few minutes later with a guardsman's crest. He'd apparently seen old treasures all over the place, but had found it beneath him to go and pick them up." A warrior has no need to weigh himself down with baubles," he'd sneered over his cup. Lemm privately thought that the plague-crazed beasts who were doubtlessly running the colosseum now would soon show this haughty kid what they cared for his warrior’s creed in due time, so he said nothing.

The silent wanderer came later. This time when they held up an ancient journal, they made no move to take the geo held out to them. They only stared at Lemm, with their little mask so perfectly unmoving he could easily think them a sudden corpse. Then his hand drifted towards the pot, and the creature set the journal down on the counter.

"...News of a relic keeper bartering goods for coffee has already spread among your lot, then? I suppose even wanderers must have a rumor mill," Lemm talked to himself while pouring their cup. Predictably, they padded away without an answer, drink in hand. Lemm would soon learn how right he was.

- The coming days were more lucrative than his business had ever been. All the travellers he'd met before all came back with various oddities found around Hallownest, as did anyone new. Though not everyone quite understood what constituted a relic, and Lemm had to turn down more than a few shiny rocks and petrified lake detritus. But they all got the routine down soon enough. And, well, Lemm did have an extraordinary amount of coffee that'd just go to waste for another thousand years otherwise, so, may as well.

The pill bug, Quirrel, came to be his best "customer", though Lemm would be twice damned before he ever said the word aloud. Either way, Quirrel often stayed long enough just chatting to warrant a second cup.

"I ought to have you bring double the treasure," Lemm griped once while handing that second cup over. Quirrel's response was a good natured laugh.

"Perhaps elsewhere, that'd be fair. Coffee was a luxury in some lands, and remains so to this day, but by my understanding it was quite in abundance here. Though I couldn't tell you where in the world they must have been growing it," he mused. Lemm raised a brow, wondering once again where in gods' names this bug was educated. But as asking would be an invitation to hear his life story, Lemm deferred.

"Is that right?" he asked instead, "I don't care for the stuff myself, luxury or no." "Really? Not an uncommon opinion, I suppose. I picked it up as a habit at one point... Though, I couldn't tell you when, now that I think of it," Quirrel trailed off, adjusting the oversized mask over his head. Lemm found it an odd choice of protection from the rain, though he supposed it was better than nothing. He only shrugged, "I hear many students do make a habit of caffeine. Your sorts can never get enough hours out of the day."

Quirrel stared at him for a brief moment, and then huffed a laugh again. "Student? You mistake me, sir. I've only ever been a traveller for as long as I can remember."

Lemm didn't bother to mask his surprise, and Quirrel's eyes crinkled. "You're right on that second part, though. So much to see, and never enough time." He took a sip.

The mapmaker came back one day with an order for two drinks. He had no relics, but offered an extra inkwell and quill instead. Lemm found equipment for keeping good notes was lucky to come by, and reluctantly made the trade, much to the old bug's gratitude.

"Thank you, the second is for my wife running our shop surface-side. It was her suggestion you might want materials for your research."

Lemm cleared his throat, blustering slightly under his beard.

"Ahh. Hm. I can appreciate that, then."

"Oh, on that note, have you any sugar you can add in for her?" The bug peered over Lemm’s shoulder, which rankled him for some reason.

"...I did find a jar back here somewhere, I think." Though he couldn't promise it was good. Could sugar go bad? It still just looked like white sand.

"Thank you. ...Err, actually, is that a box of tea on the shelf, there?"

Lemm paused in his rummaging, and looked back at the open storeroom door. The room now made a good home for his relics, though he never bothered unpacking the open crates.

"...It is," he eyed the bug neutrally.

"Ah. Iselda enjoys her coffee, though I quite prefer a good cup of tea myself. ...Erm, if it isn't too much trouble, of course," the bug grinned politely over folded hands.

Lemm, to his credit, did not sigh. There was indeed a kettle back there, too. And at least he knew how to brew tea without making an entire day's worth of it.

He brought up the jar of sugar, and leveled the bug with a grumpy look.

"Fine. But next time, you bring relics."

The cartographer acquiesced immediately, and that was the point where Lemm realized he'd invited them both to expect a "next time".

The silent wanderer came back again, on the tail of a group of treasure hunters who came in and left up the elevator. Shortly after, there was the sound of struggle above them.

This had become commonplace. Anyone who showed up had to contend with the violent husks above and beyond the shop, and some were more prepared to deal with the dangers of Hallownest than others. Lemm only poured the wanderer's cup in bored silence, tuning out the thumping and shouts above. "You know this stuff stunts your growth, right?" Lemm asked flatly. The wanderer only ever stared.

"Dehydrates you, too. You active types probably ought to stick to water. Imagine having to deal with the horrors of rotting sentries and whatnot with a diuretic sloshing about in you." Unbothered, they leaned forward and took their cup in both hands, still staring up while he spoke. Lemm honestly had no idea if they even understood him, and considered the possibility that their muteness was compounded by a language barrier. But they at least always made the effort to appear attentive.

There was a thundering crash above them that made Lemm flinch, and then a silence that kept him tense. The voices started up once again after a few seconds, and the sound of footsteps hurrying away as fast as they could. By his guess, his last customers had just had a very close encounter with a belfly. He'd likely not be seeing them again.

He turned his attention back down to the wanderer with a sigh.

"...Let me see what you have, then."

The tiny thing set their cup carefully down by their feet, and fished a genuine void egg from the depths of their grubby cloak. Lemm was struck with the brief impulse to give them the entire coffee machine for it.

There was a new visitor one morning, just as Lemm brewed the pot for his regulars. He rarely got anyone so very early, and was guiltily nursing his own cup of acrid sugary heart disease before anyone would be around to see. Alright, so he'd acquired the taste for it. It was hardly unreasonable with how much time he spent around the smell, and it helped him make up for lost time studying his relics later in the night. Perfectly understandable, and so he definitely did not freeze mid sip like he was caught in a crime when the door opened unexpectedly. The red-clad stranger who walked in wore a wicked-sharp needle slung across her back, and fixed him with an even sharper gaze.

"...I hear you sell tea." Her voice was quiet enough, but cut clear without the normal hesitant lilt of a question.

Lemm slowly put down his mug, and the soft thunk it made against the countertop sounded awfully loud in the morning lull.

"...I don't sell anything. I buy," he insisted.

The altogether frightening lass glanced between him, the full coffee pot, and the kettle sat next to a stack of assorted loose leaf teas. Then back at him.

He grunted, hiding an inane flush of indignation behind another swig of his drink.

"...I seek artifacts. Relics of this place's past, and anything that may help me understand it, for geo. ...Or for a cuppa, for those who'd rather." He shifted behind the counter, nearly trailing off into a mumble. But at this point, there wasn’t much use in fighting his reputation.

The girl just scrutinized him until she seemed to come to a decision. She then turned and left without saying anything else, opting to hop down the elevator shaft rather than waste a moment calling the lift.

Lemm rolled his eyes and gulped down the dregs of his coffee, vaguely annoyed. By this point, he was used to the rude and half feral sorts of vagabonds that only came by out of curiosity. At least she was quick about leaving.

All the better for him, as far as he was concerned. He doubted such a young thing would have anything of note to share with Hallownest's foremost historian.

#telephoneknight #hollowknight #hollow knight #RelicCoffeeAu #lemm #tiso #ghost #quirrel

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cherryfi · 5 years

Text

Blame it on the Bokbunja

Requested: Anon asks: haii!!! could you please make ateez san agent au? the concept is up to youuu thank youu

Plot: The mission objective was simple - take Choi San down by any means necessary. What you didn't expect was how it was to get him alone. You also didn't expect him to be this endearing.

A/N: I got so much inspiration for this wow, I didn’t expect it to be so long, I hope you like it anon! I hope the rest of you like it too aha!

TW: Alcohol drinking, drugging, mentions of violence

Word count: 9462

The mission’s objective was short and simple: Eliminate Choi San– make his empire crumble from the top, down. It would be like cutting the head off a snake, the body wouldn’t be able to sustain itself.

What was not simple, however, would be to actually make that happen.

Choi San was not only one of the most dangerous men in the city, He controlled at least half of the country’s black market and most of its organised crime could be traced back to his syndicate, Ateez. San had inherited this legacy from his father, Jisung, who had ruled the mafia with an iron fist.

Choi Jisung had been an orphan who grew up on the streets and who, together with seven other ‘friends’ built themselves one of the most heavily controlled and untouchable gangs the country had seen. He was highly intelligent and had an impeccable eye for detail. Nothing got past him and no one was able to double-cross him without ending up dead.

Contrary to how he ran his gang, Jisung’s family was his sanctuary and he always pandered to their every need – they wanted for nothing. This could be seen by the countless evidence photos showing family holidays; where he doted on his wife and only son, San.

According to the evidence file, San had been trained from birth to take over the leadership position from his father. And along with the syndicate’s seven other sons they were taught the skills necessary for running a ruthless and successful gang.

Taking over the ‘family’, unfortunately, came earlier than was anticipated for a 16-year-old San when his parents were murdered by a group of upstarts hoping to take over their territory. Jisung had been betrayed by one of his soldiers (Lee Sungjoo, who was paid off for information about Jisung’s whereabouts), who was quickly ‘done away with’ by the other men in the syndeo.

The Lee family were offered a rare show of kindness by San and Sungjoo’s son, Taeyong, remained a close friend. Taeyong went on to run an equally dangerous gang NCT, although both groups deferred to each other.

San’s first order of business upon receiving his crown was to obliterate the would-be rivals, making sure that any other competition knew that he would not take kindly to any threat towards his territory or family. His reputation had quickly been set and in no time, he was known across the country as being even more ruthless than his father had been.

Whether it was his training from a young age, the need to prove to his doubters that he was as good as his father, or being fuelled by pure revenge – no one could tell but, what they did know, was that Choi San was not a man to be messed with.

And even so – he was fiercely untouchable. Despite being able to hold his own in hand-to-hand combat and knowing his weaponry, San was never alone. The other members, having been friends since childhood were all protective of each other.

So, how were you supposed to take a man like that down?

It wasn’t going to be an easy feat and that’s why they’d called you in. You were a top operative but, you were only ever behind the scenes. Part of the ‘clean-up’ crew, your job was to go in after the field operatives had done their jobs and tie up any loose ends but, every field assassin that had been sent in after San had ended up dead.

It was time for a new strategy, and they hoped that sending in a fresh face with all new ideas and a whole different skill set would be what they needed. There was also a hope that it would flush out the mole that was sending San their mission information. After all, there was no way that he could foil all their plans without inside help.

How you fit into that, you weren’t sure. Technically, clean-up was less qualified than field crew, you were all combat trained, but clean-up didn’t use it as often nor did they go undercover as often but; somehow, they expected it to work.

It wasn’t working.

You’d gone over every possible point of entry into Ateez and none were viable – you’d eventually end up dead or discovered in all of them. They’d all been tried by other operatives and had failed.

Not that the corporation cared. They were putting pressure on you to succeed.

Thankfully, after 2 months of trying to find your way in, an opportunity dropped itself in your lap – as if by magic. And who were you to turn down a good opportunity?

What does a mafioso do when he’s not being a mafioso? He runs a ‘legitimate’ business.

And San was the silent owner of an exclusive bar: ‘The Noir Lounge’.

The Noir lounge was a swanky speak-easy that was a member’s only bar. People only knew about it ‘by word of mouth’ and so, it’s customers and clientele were often very important and high-class, according to the case file even the city mayor and a few city officials were members.

Although it was a bar, the lounge also had a selection of private rooms and a sex club. So, it was important that members remained unknown to the general public. Some of these men and women were married, after all.

It surprised you that they’d be advertising a position for a new bartender but, you weren’t about to let it pass you by.

You applied.

The application process was unique, it constituted of an extensive background check and multiple interviews but, that was to be expected.

None of those interviews had been with San.

It was a Wednesday morning when you got the call.

“Hello Ms Y/L/N? Your application to join the staff at the Noir lounge has been successful. Congratulations. Your start is immediate and so we will expect to see you tonight at 7pm before the bar opens to collect your uniform and go over housekeeping. Please bring with you comfortable, black, smart shoes. You’ve been sent an email with the address. I look forward to meeting you tonight. Enjoy the rest of your day.” That was it. The voice on the other end was soft-spoken but deep and masculine. He also didn’t give you his name.

He was highly professional and curt – giving you no opportunity to respond, you barely got out a ‘hi’ before he spoke.

But that didn’t matter because you got the job. A chill ran down your back both from excitement and terror.

Now it began. You would have to fit into the bar like any other employee – naïve to what was going on behind the scenes but, also interesting enough that you would somehow be allowed to enter the inner circle .

From the outside, the bar looked like any industrial building and you would never be able to suspect that it was teeming with activity underneath. If you didn’t have intel telling you where it was you would’ve gotten lost.

You arrived at 6:45 – 15 minutes before you were required to be there and buzzed on the door 3 times slowly, just as you’d been told to do. It opened and you were wordlessly led down into the lounge.

It was beautiful and crafted in a style that you would’ve expected of Choi San, classy, expensive but, simple.

“Ah Y/N. You’re early which is a good sign. I’m Park Seonghwa, I spoke to you on the phone, it’s good to finally meet you. I’ll be your manager while you’re working with us.” You took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly, smiling.

“Hi Mr Park, Thanks for the opportunity, I look forward to working here.” Of course, you knew who Park Seonghwa was.

On the surface he appeared to normal. Seonghwa was tall, handsome and friendly. It would be easy to fall for him but, he wasn’t a man to trifled with. Seonghwa was Ateez’s resident doctor, if any of the members of the syndicate were injured, they went to him to be fixed up but, that was only the half of it. If there was a poison, best believe that Seonghwa had experimented with it and he was often called in when Ateez needed someone silently ‘taken care off’.

“Ha, that sounds so formal, just call me Seonghwa. We’ll be spending enough time together working that I’ll get to know all about you. We’ll be best friends, just you watch. It’s better that we start off casually.”

‘I’ll get to know all about you.’- I certainly hope not.

You smile shyly – “Okay.”

“Seonghwa, stop flirting with the staff, even if they are gorgeous.” You almost let yourself swoon but remember who you’re talking to -Kim Hongjoong.

Seonghwa was low-key in his work and despite his extensive knowledge of poisons – he rarely got his hands dirty. Hongjoong, on the other hand, was covered in it.

Hongjoong was the ‘answers man’. You’d been disgusted almost to the point of physical sickness when you’d seen his case file. Hongjoong was the king of sadists and incredibly thorough. When Ateez needed answers and had particularly difficult adversaries, they sent them to Hongjoong. The things that man could do with a scouring pad and some hydrogen peroxide were terrifying and he took great pride in that.

But here he was, smiling at you with an almost innocent curiosity, no sign of the sick bastard that he really was.

“I’m Hongjoong. We just had a meeting here so the rest should be filing out soon and then you can open the bar. There’s another bartender working with you tonight but, it won’t be too busy. It’s never too busy on a Wednesday.” He smiled and shook your hand.

I wonder how many lives those hands have taken.

You try not to shudder at the thought.

Hongjoong was right – things were slow that night, which was good because it gave you he opportunity to get used to mixing complicated drinks and taking orders.

Your patrons ranged from well-known politicians to celebrities to other mafia members that were known to your organisation. But no San.

As a matter of fact, over the next 2 months, the only member you saw was Seonghwa and he was often distant.

The promise of casual conversations and time spent together was quickly forgotten and Seonghwa was business as usual. You only saw him at opening and closing time – he was always in a private room at the back of the club – probably with the other members but, they had their own bartender and so, you never saw any of them.

This didn’t bode well for you. It had been 4 months since you’d been given this mission and you were no closer to completion, the bosses weren’t happy to hear this.

Your work phone rang; and it sent a shudder down your spine – you knew you were in for it now.

“Status report?” Well hello to you too…

“No change. The target is yet to be seen. I’ve acquired new work but, no further advancements have been made.” You could hear the disapproving noises from the other line.

“This is unfavourable, we would have expected some status update from you other than a bartending job Y/N. Are you sure you’re the right person for this job?” Now, you were angry, first they leave you to take care of this alone and then they question your methods.

It was true that you were stumped as to your next move but, they didn’t know that. They had no place to criticise you, given how many operatives they’d already lost.

“Am I the right person? You tell me. Given the fact that I was threatened with forced resignation if I didn’t take this job, I can assure you that I wasn’t the one that made the decision to be here. The target is dangerous. I need to play the slow game. Rome wasn’t built in a day and given the amount of lives that have been lost trying to destroy them, I’d expect a little more support.” The line goes silent.

“We’ll call you for another status report in 3 months we expect progress.” And just like that, the line was dead. If you didn’t tread carefully – you would be too.

It was another month before anything happened. It was like you’d completed some probation period because suddenly, you were being told that you would be a personal bartender.

“Y/N. Just the girl I wanted to see.” Seonghwa’s wide smile greeted from the other side of the bar where you stood, restocking it. You turned to look at him.

“Hey Seonghwa, what’s up?” You returned the friendly smile.

“I have a new position for you. We’re having a separate event in one of the other private lounges and I figured you could use the experience of being a private bartender. It’s a little different to being behind the general bar; it’s more intimate and the people you’ll be serving will expect a lot more of you but, no pressure. I’ll be there if you need some guidance.” He leans on the table, his sleeves rolled up and you catch a little glimpse of a tattoo.

“Can I ask what the special event is?” You really have no clue what it could be.

“A birthday, that’s all I’ll tell you now. Don’t look so scared, you’ll be fine.” He reaches across the bar and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You’re scared for another reason. The realisation hits you like a bucket of ice water as your mind runs through all their files.

It was San’s birthday.

You were finally going to meet San and for some reason, it felt too soon.

They were different to how you’d expected them to be, their case files and photos had not prepared you for how normal they appeared. They were friendly and jovial.

Even Jongho, who was known to be quite cold was actually friendly, if not a little awkward.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your thoughts became completely scattered as you came face to face with your target.

He smirked at you and laughed a little your shock, his dimples on full display.

“Uh, sorry, I was spaced-out. What can I get you?” Play dumb Y/N – you’re not supposed to know this man.

“Yeah, I could tell, it’s not busy in here so I guess you’ve got a lot of time on your hands. I’ll have a French 75.” You balk. A what?!

“Let me guess, you’ve never made one of those? It’s not a regular one to get ordered despite it being a classic. Get a champagne flute.” You do as order and automatically go to put a cube of ice.

“No, no ice. It’s served straight-up. Pour 2oz Champagne, ½ oz of lemon juice, 1 oz gin – the Santamania is the best for this one and normally it’s 2 dashes sugar syrup but, I’ve got a sweet-tooth so give me 4. Rim the glass with some sugar and you’ve got yourself a classic.” He finishes with a wink and you follow his direction, Finishing it off with a lemon slice.

You slide it across to him on a napkin and wait expectantly.

San is not the kind of man you want to disappoint.

I hope I make a good impression.

“That’s a good 75. You know it’s supposedly named after a WW1 gun. It was the Howitzer 75mm, the French and Americans used it all throughout the war. Apparently, the cocktail’s got a kick just like the gun. By the way, if it’s in a slim glass, like the flute, never put ice with it. Ruins the experience. A flute glass is used when you want to keep the texture of the drink, you want it to keep the bubbles. That’s part of the experience.” His eyes glint boyishly; and you smile as he explains more information about the cocktails.

In another life you might have found yourself falling for a man like him, he was oddly cute.

“You know, it’s not ordered regularly but, it’s a classic cocktail, perfect for bringing in the new year or celebrating another one. I’m San by the way.” He smiles for real this time, dimples on full blast, and you can’t help but, smile back. He shakes your hand.

Damn, he was charming.

“I didn’t think I’d meet a cocktail nerd.” He barks out a laugh.

“You have to be when you run a bar.” You put on your most shocked face.

“You own this place?” He nods.

“It was mean wasn’t it? Not telling you that I’m the owner but, Seonghwa talks about you so much, I had to see what was so special about you.”

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?” You answer him, a little flirty, hoping that that would open him up to you.

He only laughs.

“I’m not sure yet but, we’ll see.”

Your next status report goes a lot better.

“Update Y/N.”

“I’m almost part of the inner circle. A rival gang offered me money to rat on them and I told my manager so, they had no excuse but to tell me what was going on. The members have been conducting business around me now so, it’s a sign of good things to come.” The line is silent again but, you’re not in fear of the response. They wanted progress, they got it.

“And what about the target?” You sigh.

“I can’t get him alone. None of the members will leave him alone, he’s always surrounded.” It was true be it Hongjoong, or Wooyoung, San was always with someone. If San was around, you could easily find Wooyoung somewhere nearby.

Besides the only times you’d been within killing distance of San was during the meetings, where you would serve drinks. You served drinks ,and they talked.

“What’s your next plan of action?” You sigh again.

“The only thing I haven’t tried: overt flirting.”

“Okay but be careful.” The line went dead again.

You had to put your plan into action.

The only time you got to see San on his own was during select night when he would randomly enter the bar. He’d spend the whole by your bar, just taking in the scenery and occasionally talking to the patrons but, rarely did he speak to you.

To top it all off, Wooyoung or Mingi were always in earshot of you.

How am I going to pull this off?

Your mission’s completion was so close you could taste it. All you had to do now was make San want to get you alone and you’d have him but, you had to tread lightly. It was around this point in the mission that a lot of operatives had lost their lives – they got cocky or crumbled under the pressure of the corporation’s demands.

You wouldn’t end up like that.

Your chance came 2 months later.

“She was cute.” It was a Friday night, but it was at the start of service, so the bar was still quiet. A few of the bar’s members had already arrived; tired and weary from their work weeks (or from the debts they owed to San).

Like the city mayor. He was in the bar and had been downing straight vodka for the last half hour but, you knew why.

He’d just walked out of a meeting with San and Hongjoong. Hongjoong had a wild grin on his face and San was fuming. The mayor’s re-election had been an odd one. Odd because nobody expected him to win so, when he clinched it, eyebrows were raised but, no one said anything.

San had bought him the election and now he owed San.

You almost felt bad for him but, he deserved it and now wasn’t the time anyway – San was finally alone.

Well, he was, a pretty girl in a blue, velvet dress swayed up to him, taking the bar stool next to him. He made eye-contact with you and you quickly busied yourself; shining glasses. He paid her no mind.

He didn’t even respond to her flirtations. She eventually huffed and walked off.

“Yeah, she was. See that guy over there? That’s Son Hyun-woo. You don’t need to know about who he is but, that girl, is a gift from him. He’s trying to keep me sweet Y/N. I’m not interested. I’m not an easy man to buy.” His stare is intense, and you find yourself struggling to look away.

He breaks out into a slow smile.

“What time are you working tomorrow Y/N?” You don’t really know where he’s going with this.

“I’m in at 7 – same time as always.” You shrug, keeping your tone light and San looks around thoughtfully.

“You’re a good bartender but, I want you to learn some of the more unique drinks. Come in at 5. Don’t worry it’ll be paid. I’m giving you a one on one cocktail class.” He flashes his dimples at you, and you agree.

Time to put your plan in action.

You head into the bar at 5 to find San already there.

“Y/N! You ready for your masterclass?” He clasps his hands together and rolls up his sleeves, you sit across from him – curious about the array of glasses and alcohols.

One thing was clear – San didn’t respond well to obvious flirtations so; your plan would need tweaking. Maybe you could charm him with your intelligence?

“Get behind here Y/N. You can’t make drinks from that side.”

“Alright. I’m here.” He smiles at you again.

“The first one we’re going to make is a clover club. This one predates the prohibition era in America. It was popular in Philadelphia; where it was created. It’s a classy, aromatic drink; reportedly drunk by literary experts and high-class men. That’s why it’s served in a cocktail or martini glass – so you can take in the aroma before you sip it.” You watch him expertly mix the drink.

“ ½ oz Gin, ¾ oz lemon juice, ¼ oz raspberry syrup or grenadine and one egg white. We make it thick by shaking the ingredients up in a shaker with ice but, serve it dry. Rim the glass with sugar and some frozen raspberries. Go on try it.” He nods encouragingly and you take a sip, he pours himself a glass as well and you look at him curiously.

“What? Shouldn’t I be able to savour the fruits of my labour?” You roll your eyes and he winks at you.

He’s right – you smell the gin and the raspberry syrup. It’s sweet and tart and surprisingly its thickness doesn’t take away from its enjoyability.

He takes you through other cocktails, making you try each one: La Paloma, the Penicillin, The Martinez, the Corpse reviver – you try them all and eventually you’re a little tipsy. He seems completely unaffected by the alcohol.

Bad move.

San looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I made this one myself. Have you ever heard of Bokbunja?” You shake your head, no, and try to steady yourself; giggling when San stands close to you from behind, whispering in your ear.

“It’s a wine that we make from Korean Blackberries. It’s made in the same way as wine but, it has a higher alcohol content. Its acidity makes it perfect for seafood.” You sigh when he wraps his arms around your waist, his breath fans across your ear and jaw. It smells like the last cocktail.

“It’s also perfect with fresh mint, I like to add it with sour mix and elderflower as well. You know why it’s so popular in Korea? Apparently, it’s an aphrodisiac. I don’t know about that but, I know it makes you quite hot under the collar. If you plan on getting fucked later in the night – Bokbunja is the way to go. Now that I think about it, maybe it is an aphrodisiac. Try it and tell me.” San’s lips ghost across the shell of your ear and he pulls away to guide your hands.

You haven’t even sipped it yet and you’re already hot under the collar.

“Take a sip. Do you like that Y/N? Does it make you feel hot?” You moan quietly.

You finally come to your senses when you feel his lips on your neck.

This wasn’t part of the plan – you were supposed to seduce him not the other way around.

“San, I don’t think this is a good idea but, thank you for the lesson.” You pull away from him and he only laughs. You put your hands on his chest. His grey, silk shirt feels good under your palms.

He obviously has expensive taste.

“Maybe you’re right but, you can’t say you don’t want it, want me.” He’s right and suddenly, you don’t think you can carry out the rest of your mission. If you keep feeling this way, you might end up compromised.

You almost fell under his spell and if you didn’t get a grip soon, you’d fail your mission.

Failure wasn’t an option.

But San didn’t make it easy.

Somehow, he’d only gotten worse. Before, you couldn’t get him alone but now? You couldn’t keep him away. Every time you came to work San was there.

He was sweet, he was kind, he was flirtatious.

And those damn dimples.

“Status report, Y/N.” God, where do I begin?

“In the last month, things have advanced a lot. San, I mean the target and I have spent more time together.” There is a pleased sound on the other line.

“This is good. You should complete your mission soon then I assume?” You cringe.

“There is a slight problem – the target has been pushing his sexual advances heavily. I fear I won’t be able to complete my mission without giving in to them.” There’s a huff on the line and you sigh.

“Do you know what ‘by any means necessary’ means, Y/N? We gave you a mission to complete. If that means giving into the target, then do it. Don’t be shy now – these things are often necessary and expected of our field operatives. Make yourself pretty, visit a spa if you must. But, your mission must be completed within the next 2 days or we’re pulling the plug on it and you.”

“2 days?! How am I supposed to do this in 2 days?” You’re beside yourself in anger and bewilderment.

“By any means necessary, Y/N.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“We don’t make threats, it’s a warning. Y/N if he wants you then it should be easy to strike him off. We expect you to deliver in 2 days – we will be in touch.” The line goes dead as your heart drops to your feet.

You have no choice, but to do as told.

As usual, your shift doesn’t start until 7 so, you spend your day at the spa.

You get everything, from a full body wax to a shiatzu, to a manicure – all on the corporation’s dime but, none of the treatments are enough to ease your nerves.

You’d expect that after a day of hot stone massages and saunas, you’d expect all your kinks and sore muscles to be worked out but, instead you feel like a taut rubber band; ready to snap.

It’s now or never.

You wear a new set of lingerie under your uniform for later that night. It’s lacy and rubs against your skin airily and a little rough; the colour complements your skin perfectly. It should make you feel sexy but, you feel filthy instead.

You feel like a whore.

Your hands shake as you place the gun under your clothes and it’s never felt heavier. When you get to work you put it in your bag and in your locker instead, the feeling of the metal on your body making you sick.

As if the universe wants to play a sick joke on you, all the members are unexpectedly at the bar. They’re finishing up on their meeting as you step in and they all greet you once you step behind the bar.

“How are you Y/N? You’re looking a little green.” Jongho studies you but, drops it quickly when you tell him that you’re just not feeling well.

As a matter of fact – all the members were studying you, aware that you weren’t your usual self but, San told them all to step off.

“You’re so used to people acting suspicious that you’ll give this poor girl the 3rd degree? She’s just a little unwell, right Y/N? I think something’s going around, the other bartender called in sick today.” You can only nod, scared that your voice will betray you.

“You know what’s good for that gin and tonic. Here drink up.” He makes you a single with ice and you down it quickly, trying to cover how much your hands shake.

Can you really kill Choi San?

The answer is no, no you can’t.

Your shift goes by uneventfully and you leave work, disappointed.

The ball of tension in your stomach has grown tighter and you’re thankful for your day off but, it’s also your deadline day.

You only had one day to finish your job and you’d failed – you were screwed.

Yeosang calls you in the morning.

“Y/N? This is Yeosang, San would like to see you at his home this morning, it’s to discuss your job. A car will be by your home in 20 minutes.” You nearly collapsed; San wanted you to visit him?

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be ready.” You said your goodbyes and Yeosang hung up.

Were you getting fired?

You didn’t have time to ruminate on it – you quickly got ready for this impromptu meeting placing a small blade in your shoe.

It wasn’t what you would have planned but, you had to improvise.

The car journey was deathly silent. Wooyoung picked you up and after a short hello, he didn’t say anything else.

He knows. He has to know.

Wooyoung kept stealing glances at you in his rear-view mirror but, wouldn’t say anything, his expression was blank. There must have been a reason why he’d been the one to pick you up, given how close he was to San.

“We’re here Y/N. Just head up to the front door, the butler’s waiting for you.” Wooyoung turns to you and holds your stare for longer than expected. It makes you squirm under his gaze, while he searches your eyes. Your body’s tense with anxiety.

After a moment of you sitting frozen, he laughs shortly.

“They’re waiting for you inside Y/N.” You get out quickly, taking your bag with you.

You’d decided to pack a gun in the end as well, hopeful that you’d be able to end it all quickly, it felt heavy in your bag.

There was a lot more to Choi San than you’d read in his case file. Behind all the bloodshed and cruelty of his world, was a charming man that just wanted to live a normal life.

Could you really blame him for how he ended up, given that this was the only life he’d ever known?

You shake your head at the thought. A criminal was a criminal, regardless of how they got there.

You had a mission to complete, you steeled yourself as you walked up to the front door. Wooyoung drove away once you were at the top of the stairs.

San’s home was completely different to the bar. Where the Noir Lounge was cool and chic with its black interior and classy upholstery, San’s house was light and airy: it felt like a home. Even from the outside, the large, gated state-home looked inviting.

With its lush gardens and gravel driveway, even the wall surrounding the home was unintimidating. You could imagine San entertaining friends and gusts in his home or relaxing in his front room. You could almost imagine yourself right there beside him.

As you walked to the front door, it opened.

They really are waiting for me.

“Miss Y/N, Mr Choi is waiting for you in the dining room. I will bring you to him now. My name is Jiwon, I’m the personal butler for this home and I hope you’ll be enjoying your stay with us.” He guides you through the door, walking you across the marble floor after asking you to remove your shoes and giving you a pair of house slippers.

Jiwon is efficient and he moves fast. As soon as your slippers are on, he guides you to the dining room giving you little time to get look at the house (or recover your knife) but, what you took in was gorgeous. The doorway led to a large staircase on your right but, Jiwon led you down back, and as promised into the dining room.

It was beautiful.

You breathe deeply to ease your panic. It doesn’t work.

The dining room was an extension of the kitchen but made completely of glass, the sun rays shone into it and you could see another lush garden outside. In the centre stood a large mahogany dining table big enough to sit at least 20 people. But for now, it only sat one.

San.

“Mr Choi, your guest is here.” He turned to look at you, a dazzling smile on his lips, his eyes practically disappearing. Your heart sped up just looking at him.

He was dressed casually today, in joggers and a t shirt but, that didn’t take away from how beautiful he was.

“Thank you Jiwon. Y/N. Come have a seat by me. Let’s talk.” He pats the seat next to him and you take it, a shaky breath leaving your body. You were going to be alone with him.

Silently, you hoped that Jiwon wouldn’t leave.

“I will be by shortly, with today’s brunch, we have a selection of light foods, such as smoked salmon and cream-cheese bruschetta and some Scandinavian pastries for you to try miss Y/N as well some palette cleansers.” Jiwon smiles at you directly and you return it. In the little time you’ve seen him, you liked him.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“The chef is incredible Y/N, you won’t be disappointed. Thank you Jiwon, I’m giving you the rest of the day off so please, go and enjoy yourself.” You panic a little.

You’re definitely going to be alone with Choi San. Your training kicks into overdrive as you try to casually look for all possible escape routes in case things went south.

It was now or never – you’d never have another opportunity to finish your mission.

“Now Y/N. I’m really sorry to call you here on your day off but, don’t worry, you’ll be paid. I wanted to discuss how things are going with your work. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

A proposition? Your ears perked up. What kind of proposition could he have for you and what did it have to do with the job you already had? Whatever it was, you were sure that it wouldn’t bode well for you. You’d have to put your mission on hold even further, much to your own chagrin and worse - you’d have to report it back to your superiors. Would they give you the benefit of the doubt? You could only hope that you’d be able to convince them that this new job would be a good opportunity to not only take Ateez down but, to take down their associates as well. As long as you spun this roadblock into an opportunity, you’d be able to come out of this on the other side but, whether or not it was unscathed was left to be seen. Up to this point, you hadn’t actually gotten involved in the seedy underbelly of the ateez syndicate - after all you were just a bartender and aside from San’s constant flirtations and being privy to some of the more intimate details of their work, you hadn’t really been involved in dealings. Hell, the members aside from Seonghwa and occasionally Hongjoong hadn’t had more than light conversation with you. This would be a perfect opportunity.

Your musings were quickly interrupted when Jiwon came back in, followed by the rest of the staff. There were 2 other staff members, one of whom you assumed was the chef: given his uniform. “Brunch is served. We have a selection of charcuterie and sandwiches as well as the palette cleansers, as promised. I recommend the gooseberries over the hazelnut coffee for this particular selection but, I’ve put both here as I know how you enjoy your caffeine, San. Please also enjoy, the selection of cakes.” The chef bows to signal his end and San dismisses the staff with a quick smile.

“ I’m sure that Jiwon’s told you, you have the weekend off. I’ll clear the table myself. Don’t worry. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. I’ll see you all Monday morning. ”

Now you’re really scared.

The whole weekend? This must have been big. You watch them file out of the room, a sense of heavy dread filling you as they go. “Now that I have you all to myself; let’s talk business.” He rubs his hands together, smirking at you.

“As you know, you’ve been working with me for a little while and I’m impressed with your work. But, I’m also quite fond of you Y/N; which makes me privy to a little bias, don’t you think?” He smiles a little and pours himself a cup of coffee. You watch the liquid fill the glass mug, too scared to meet his eyes. The liquid swirls disturbed by the movement and you watch as it settles.

San blows on the mug and takes a tentative sip. “I, uh guess.” you say dumbly. San Laughs. “That was rhetorical Y/N. Please eat something. I want you relaxed. You’re as stiff as a board.” You try to laugh it off when he reaches out to touch your shoulder, but the sound is weak and pathetic.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to brunch dates.” You could kill yourself. You cringe as soon as the words leave your mouth. Dear Lord, please let the ground open up and swallow me whole! Date?! Why did you say that Y/N?

“Is this a date Y/N?” He’s back to teasing you again, his tone mischievous and you know there’s no way he’s going to back down now.

You swallow your pride. “I uh, I didn’t mean to say it like that.” You cringe and turn your attention to the Danish pastries, trying to distract yourself. “Because I would like that very much. Actually, you beat me to the punch. That’s what I wanted to talk about.” You look at him in shock. You lean forward curiously and San places a bottle of bokbunja on the table in between you.

You glance between it and him, a little perplexed.

“You remember what happened when you and I had this drink don’t you? And since then, we’ve been dancing around each other, playing a very dangerous game. I don’t like games Y/N, I like honesty. And honestly, I want you and I’m no psychic but, I know you want me too.” He leans into you and rests his hand under your chin: his thumb resting on your lips.

You don’t pull away, instead your lips part instinctively. Your eyes are still downcast, looking at the pastry in your hands. “Look at me, when I’m talking to you Y/N. Let me see those beautiful eyes. You can’t hide from me anymore.” You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are intense. They’re ablaze with passion and fondness.

He pulls away from you and your breath stutters. He was right. You wanted him but, a mission was a mission. It needed to be fulfilled.

Yet, somehow, you’re starting to think that it’s not all that important anymore.

“Now, as much as I want you, I also know how dangerous it is to mix business and pleasure. So, I have a decision for you to make. Would you like to be mine?” You gasp.

He remains unfazed and carries on. Your eyes bug out.

“If you say no that’s okay. We’ll carry on as normal and you won’t have to bother about any awkwardness between us, I’m a professional man after all. But, if you say yes, you’ll have to quit. I won’t be able to keep my hands off you at work once I’ve had a taste of you and I won’t want to. I also won’t be able to hold my tongue if one of those disgusting men flirt with you, I can barely restrain myself as it is. If only you knew how vile they were. But I promise I’ll help you find work somewhere else if you’d like. I also promise to cherish you for everything you’re worth, I’ll take such good care of you.” Your heart swells at his words. The look of seriousness in his eyes has you breathless.

“San can I, can I think about this?” Your eyes gaze at him, pleading for him to understand how hard that decision was to make.

Even harder, given that you’re supposed assassinate him, right Y/N? This wasn’t fair. Life just wasn’t fair.

Why couldn’t he be like every other high-stakes criminal? A pig who wanted nothing more than to fatten themselves up off the back of everyone else’s work. Why couldn’t he be 2 dimensional? Black and white? Just pure evil? Why was Choi San so god damned loveable?

His casefile spoke of a deeply troubled and highly dangerous man who had no issue with disposing of anyone. People were pawns to be used and boy was he good at using them. But the man before you was nothing like that. He was fiercely loyal and passionate. Driven, hardworking, and kind.

San was everything you’d ever wanted in a man and then some and it was your job to kill him. You’d been compromised. There was no way that you’d be able to do harm to him now but, there was also no way that you could go into corporate HQ empty handed.

Your mission statement had been clear: failure meant being burned. Which meant definite death for you. If you could stall San, it would give you the chance to run. You’d disappear into the wind probably somewhere where they couldn’t find you. You’d leave him a warning and disappear for good.

Yeah, you could do that… Except- San’s eyes darkened. His face set in determination “No. No Y/N , you don’t get time to think about it. This is a onetime offer. I’m not going to let you keep running from this." He held your wrists in his hands shaking them lightly; prompting you to look directly into his eyes.

"I’m putting everything that I am out there, I’m offering you my heart Y/N. I don’t think I can sit around and wait while you decide whether or not I’m worth it.” This was new. San looked so vulnerable as he held your hands in his.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him no. Screw your mission - somehow, you’d make it work.

Eventually, you’d have to tell him that you were a plant but, that could wait.

“Okay San, I quit. I’m all yours.” Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. But he hears you. San pulls you forward, wrapping his arms around you and trapping you with a kiss. You taste the hint of coffee left in his lips and the sugar from your pastry: sweet and bitter, just like the situation you were in now.

Your lips move against each other slowly, San takes his time with you, running his hands over your body; caressing every inch that his hands touch.

When San pulls back, he looks like a dream. His dimpled smile stretches across his face, eyes almost disappearing, his hair tousled from you running your hands through it. His lips are spit-slicked and swollen and the prettiest shade of cherry red.

You feel like a teenager experiencing their first kiss all over again, except this time it’s not disappointing. You’re giddy and you can feel your face heating up.

“I’m really happy that you’re here with me Y/N. We should celebrate. How about a drink?” He holds up the bottle of Bokbunja and shakes it.

“Yeah, let’s celebrate.” You sigh, the gravity of your decision finally settling in on you. There was no way you were going to be able to get through this. If you ran now, the corporation would find you and if they didn’t you were certain that San would.

“Let me get us some wine glasses.” He pats your thigh and gets up, taking the bottle of wine with him. Being alone with your thoughts for that short time was driving you crazy.

How were you going to get out of the situation you’d put yourself in? You’d been trained for almost every possible situation but, there was no training for what to do when you fell for your target.

You’re pulled out of your stupor when San returns with the 2 glasses of wine, placing 1 in front of you.

You try to smile convincingly but, it felt more like a grimace but, you still try to play your role. “What should we toast to?”

San thinks for a moment.

“We should toast to something cheesy like, ‘new beginnings’ or to ‘us’.” He laughs at how cheesy it sounds and your heart swells at his sudden shyness

“Okay, to us it is. To us.” You both raise your glasses together, clinking them and then you drink.

You chug the wine, hoping that a little liquid courage would help you relax.

“Woah slow down there Y/N.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, it’s a really nice wine.” You smile sheepishly and rapidly blink – your vision going a little hazy. You try to hide how nervous you are as you pour another glass for yourself.

San pulls his chair back from the table and sits across from you. You try to reach out for him, but your arm feels heavy.

San just watches you, his expression distant.

“I’m glad you liked the wine, I added something a little different to yours though. Can you feel it Y/N? Seonghwa said you would, he said it was fast acting. It really looks like it’s working. I’ll have to thank him.” You look at him quizzically and try to shake off the brain fog, but you can’t. Your mind is hazier than ever.

You didn’t drink that much, what did Seonghwa have to do with the wine?

It clicks in your mind and you watch as San’s sombre expression. Your mind runs back to your fact files. Seonghwa was a chemicals expert. He played around with poisons.

You try to convey your alarm, but your head and eyes are too heavy.

“whaid you doo tme?” Inside your head, you’re panicking but, outside you can’t move, you’re slowly losing consciousness.

“I didn’t do anything to you Y/N. You did this to yourself.” You try to fight back as San picks you up bridal style but, your body isn’t working with you. Mounting panic gives way to artificial indifference and your vision narrows down to a pinhead. Everything goes black.

You came to, slowly. The first thing you noticed was that you were sprawled out on your back and that your arms were aching. Trying to stretch them out, you realise with a start that they’re bound to bed posts. Your body slips on black satin sheets as you try to sit up. “Keep calm Y/N, keep calm.” The panic is setting in, freezing your body and you know if you let it take you over that logic will leave.

“Yeah Y/N, stay calm. I’m sure this will all blow over.” In taking stock of your current, bound state, you didn’t even realise that San was watching you. He regards you silently but, coldly. His eyes holding none of the previous love and softness.

You’ve been had. You realised it too late. And now you’re going to die. But you don’t want to die.

Your breath comes in short puffs, quickly increasing and your head is beginning to spin. The feeling of pins and needles travels across your fingertips. Tears start to prick at your eyes.

San quickly gets up from his seat in the middle of the room and sits next to you on the bed. “Calm down Y/N, I need you to breathe slowly. Especially because I need you to be coherent for what I’m going to say." You try to do as your told and flinch when San reaches towards your face and wipes away your tears.

"I don’t like games Y/N but, that doesn’t mean that I’m not good at playing them. I always win. You’ve been playing a slow game with me and I’m really not happy about it.” He leans in close and you try to back away from him, but the sheets aren’t on your side, you’re still groggy.

“I know who you work for. I’ve always known.” Your heart rate picks up at that. You’d had a feeling that he would’ve found out but, not that he had always known.

“Now, before you go getting yourself into a panic. I’m not going to kill you. No, you could be of some use to me. I’m going to ask you some questions honey and if I think you’re lying, I might have to send you to Hongjoong and we both know what will happen if I do. But, if you’re good and you tell me the truth, I might just let you off the hook.” San’s hand grips your inner thigh and then he pulls back; getting up from beside you and pulling his chair to the end of the bed.

You can only watch him, your mind running through all the possible ways you could get away from him. Your mind comes up short.

“The corporation put another hit out on me, yeah? It doesn’t surprise me but, what does is why they would send a lower level spy so, why you? And remember princess honesty is the only thing that will keep you safe.” He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and looks at you expectantly.

“They couldn’t figure out why every assassin they sent was getting killed so they figured you must have insider info on who they were sending. Lower level means less clearance so they sent me in because it would be hush hush. Less people to get permission from, meant less people involved, lower chance of failure.” He nods and furrows his brows.

“So, was the aim to still kill me?” “Yes.” You’re surprised to see the flash of hurt pass by his features but, it surprises you even more that it affected you so much.

Killing someone was one thing, telling them was another.

“When.” He watches you carefully, daring you to lie to him. “My deadline was today.” He sighs, nodding.

“What stopped you?" You can’t answer him. Because I fell in love, was such a cliché response and it would’ve sounded 2 dimensional given the situation you were in now.

San was clearly hurt so most likely wouldn’t believe anything that sappy but, it was true.

Even after being mildly poisoned and tied up your feelings didn’t waiver and even before this, you’d been planning on how to leave him unscathed.

"You’re taking too long Y/N, don’t li-” “I fell in love with you.” You blurt it out before you can second guess it. He looks at with a blank expression, his lips pressed tightly together.

He doesn’t believe you.

“You wanted honesty so here it is. I started doubting my ability to carry out the mission as soon as you guys started letting me into your inner circle. I didn’t get that close to your business, but I got close to you guys; I have so much in common with Yunho and Jongho showed me all his tech stuff and I had lunch with Hongjoong and his mum. His mother, San. The closer I got to all of you the more I didn’t want to carry this out. I was meant to do it yesterday but, I just couldn’t. I can’t hurt you. ” A fresh wave of tears flow from your eyes.

San gets up, wordlessly and walks away, shocking you. It’s over.

“Don’t look so panicked.” He sits by you, tissues in in hand and wipes your tears. “I’m not going anywhere but, I don’t think you want tears drying on your face.” He’s smiles at you tenderly.

“Untie me San.” The smile drops off his face.

“Why would I do that? Thank you for your honesty but, that doesn’t let you off the hook just yet. Do you have any idea who, exactly, you’re working for Y/N? Because I do. Your boss has been living on my dime for years, he was even on my father’s books.”

“For what exactly?” You’re shocked but, not exactly sure what this has to do with you.

“Let’s just say that your boss has a few extra-curricular activities that would put a damper on his career goals. He wants to run for government one day and there’s no way he can do it if the info I have on him gets out.” The cogs are turning in your head, hearing what he’s saying.

“You’re telling me, that Kim Jinyoung, the same Kim Jinyoung who’s been strait-laced his whole career, who’s been responsible for removing some of the worst careered criminals off the streets, who has a doting wife and 4 kids; is in the back pocket of your gang? That’s not possible San and I’m not playing your game. Just hurry up and kill me.” Oof, you don’t know where that came from, probably the frustration of being tied up and realising that you’ve been had the entire time.

But think about it, Y/N, if San can be good despite what his casefile says then, Jinyoung has every possibility of being vile.

San gets up and reaches for a manila file in the bedside table.

“I thought you’d say that. I normally have these files stored away but, I bought this one just for you. Let me show you what he’s been up to. Here’s one of him doing cocaine. Here’s one of him drinking with Taeyong at one of Taeyong’s parties; I’m sure you know who Taeyong is. And, this one’s my favourite: him being spanked by a girl at Mingi’s strip club. So, tell me again that I’m lying.” You’re left speechless, unsure of what to say and having no clue where to even begin.

San pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs again. You only look at him in bewilderment.

“Look, I’m not going to kill you Y/N. If I’d planned on doing it, I would have killed you already.” He pulls the key from his trousers and undoes the cuffs around your wrists. You rub them gingerly and flex your fingers – trying to get the feeling back into them.

He unties your feet as well and sits back in his chair.

“I’m also not letting you leave. I’ve had a mole in the corporation for a while, I’ve known this was coming. But I wasn’t expecting to get feelings for you. The plan was to play with you and Jinyoung, make him think he’d finally gotten the one-up on me and once he’d gotten comfortable or you thought you were close enough, I was going to send you to him in pieces.” Your body runs cold and you start to shake.

San had planned on mutilating you?

“Well what stopped you?” You want to look defiant; you want to appear strong but, the question comes out in pathetic whisper.

“You were only doing your job. As were all of the assassins. They were given choices. Stay or die. 4 stayed and they work for Ateez now and 1 was disposed of. You’re the only one I’ve fallen for and trust me when I say that I love you. My proposition still stands Y/N, although in a different way. I want you by my side but, obviously that means quitting your job – your real job. If not, I’ll let you go; I can’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone else, not even your boss.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb lovingly.

You lean forward, closing the distance and kiss him slowly.

When you pull back, his cheeks are dusted with pink but, he still looks unsure.

“Choi San, I quit.”

#ateez imagines #ateez #choi san #choi san imagines #choi san scenarios #ateez san imagines #ateez mafia au #kpop mafia au #ateez scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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flameontheotherside · 3 years

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I looked happy....

I have thick glasses don't I?

Lol my script is -4 😆 and I'm still blind.

Anyway this Pic is from 2008

The guy with me was my best friend. I knew he liked me but I had a long distance bf in California (Brendan) and I became sort of interested in JP's friend (also a "weird guy" who visited us so I met him) in Arizona. So JP had like -0 chance with me. But I confided in him about looking for someone outside of Florida.

I seemed happy but I started drinking a lot. Since he was over 21, JP would buy the alcohol and we'd drink in a parking lot of his car outside of our favorite bar. The bar hosted karaoke every week and you could go in @ 18 y/o but couldn't drink. Sometimes they served me beer anyway.

I felt defeated and couldn't understand why. Jp is still alive btw but we've grown apart since I no longer lived within a reasonable distance to be able to hang out like we used to.

Looking at my old photos makes me sad...

When I see them I remember my frustration and feeling unable to articulate what I was feeling. I was slowly breaking down and I finally snapped shortly after Erik died and when I began to feel him. I smoked so much weed I gained weight. I was also put on heavy doses of antidepressants. Hardly cried, never really talked about anything. When I did cry, things were so bad I tried to kill myself several times. 2012 was a shit show.

I think what if Erik didn't die or if I found him. Would anything change?

I think I would have been worse off. The closest to Erik was Brendan (in California). I stayed up all night to talk to him when he cried. I cried with him. I cried FOR him. I loved him inspite of all the things he went through and the suffering he had. I won't list the issues because it's private but the point is that if it had been Erik and I found out that he killed himself, I'd be pretty much obliterated. Ummm...Its still hard to write about because this is one of those things that makes me emotional.

I delt with a two-year stint of drug addiction.

This was about a year after Erik's death. The only way I could escape from feeling dead inside and feeling that part of me was missing and yet feeling Erik with me, I had to get away from it. I said before that being medicated actually allows me to be more intuitive as my intuitiveness relies of concentration. When my mind is clear I can sense things. But with a drug addiction and alcohol, it's nearly impossible to operate that way. It offered a 15 - 45 minute escape from my intuition. It's what my life became about. I grew up intuitive and I felt it did nothing but make me miserable.

I finally decided that stopping medication in 2012 was the answer. No matter what drugs I was prescribed (been on about 20), as long as it helped with my concentration, I was able to sense and feel things intuitively. Anyway, I didn't have to keep fucking myself up, just not taking my meds and living in a fog was better. I couldn't think straight most of the time and I was unable to socialize without incriminating myself. The only way Erik could reach me back then was in dreams. The dreams got so frequent and vivid that I decided to get back on meds again hoping that maybe I'm just crazy.

😘💕 Good night loves!

#2008 #channelingerik #channeling #twin flames #twinflame #mediums #twinflames #psychic #psychics #channeling erik #erik medhus #my life

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shegoesbyarose · 5 years

Text

𝚁𝚄𝙽 ⟨⟨𝐒.𝐑.⟩⟩

warnings: angst, strong suicidal themes | words: twoK | pairing: au billionaire steve rogers x black!oc //not proofread//

The crisp leaves crunched under the bottom of his $300 sneakers, various colors obliterated with each heavy footstep of the 6’2” 240lb CEO. Equally expensive headphones that he’d received in a gift bag at a party thrown by Harold Steinbrenner a few years back, filled his ears with a playlist off Spotify that claimed to be calming.

Bullshit.

Almost 45 minutes into his walk and he still felt the same amount of anxiety that plagued him as soon as he stepped foot out of his gated home.

Striking, blue eyes focused on the sidewalk that he walked on as he made a mental note of his surroundings, realizing that he’d once again passed that old tree that simply refused to die for the sixth time. Or maybe the 7th. He’d maybe, just maybe, lost count.

It ranked rather low on the list of things that consumed the young billionaire’s mind these days.

Steve Rogers continued to walk, momentarily thinking about pulling his phone out of his pocket but eventually deciding against it as he knew it would prematurely end his walk. He’d placed it on Do Not Disturb for a reason.

Reaching an intersection, Steve opted to deviate from his typical path by taking a shortcut through a small wooded area, increasing the number of leaves and greenery he smothered in the midst of his walk.

After exiting the grassy area, he stepped back onto the sidewalk, making a couple hundred steps when he reached an old bridge that dwellers of the small but affluent town rarely used anymore given a newly constructed bridge not even a mile away.

However, the forgotten bridge wasn’t what captured the majority of his attention, it was the person on the bridge that stopped him, the first thing to interrupt his continuous movement.

A body, hunched over slightly, sat on the old, rusted railing of the bridge that was a good hundred feet over a manmade lake. For a second, he contemplated continuing to walk, moving past the person without so much as a small hello.

And then he looked closer. He saw how suspiciously close the person was to the edge of the railing, their body leaning closer to the water that streamed below as opposed to the cushion of the sidewalk.

He didn’t want to believe what his gut was telling him. He really didn’t, but the moment his feet brought him close enough for the person to realize that they weren’t alone, and cloudy brown eyes met his blue ones…..he just knew.

It was a woman, Steve immediately noticing the dampness and redness around her eye area, the quivering of her full lip, the sounds of her sniffles, and the way her right hand immediately lifted from the metal to rest on her stomach.

“What do you want?”

Steve’s eyes moved to the sway of her legs, the movement indicating that she was readying to jump.

And not onto the sidewalk.

“Hey.” He instinctively lifted his hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t feel it anyway.”

He wasn’t sure why, but the quiet chuckle that proceeded her reply….it made him wince. Still, he continued as he realized his initial guess was most definitely accurate.

He eyed her closely, noticing that her right hand remained planted on her abdomen. “What’s your name?”

Her head turned back to the water. “It doesn’t matter.”

He swallowed, trying his hardest not to expose how unnerved he was by this whole thing. He’d gone out for a walk to clear his head and had somehow walked onto a potential, harrowing tragedy.

“Sure it do-“

“13.”

“Excuse me?”

She lifted her chin, her eyes closing in slightly. “13 people have walked by me since I got up here.” She looked back at him, a fresh set of tears rolling down her face. “You’re the first to approach me.”

He frowned. “Good thing I did.”

She laughed softly, and Steve had never in his life heard such an ironic contradiction. There was nothing even remotely comical about her laugh or even the acrid smile that graced her face.

“It doesn’t make a difference.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Again, she looked over at him, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Please, just….go away.”

Taking a determined breath, he also managed to inch closer to her, stopping when he saw her eyes dart to his shoes. “I can’t do that.” As she rolled her light brown eyes, Steve was allowed a better view of the stranger. He took in the large jacket that covered her upper body, seeing that it was unzipped and finally realizing why she hadn’t moved her right hand.

“You’re pregnant…..”

Again, a laugh. “Just when you thought I couldn’t get any more selfish, huh?” Steve vehemently shook his head and prepared to object when she continued. “You can save your judgment. I’ve heard it all already.”

“Why would I judge you?” He asked quietly, not thinking about his next statement until it left his mouth. “I don’t even know your name.”

“When has that ever stopped anyone?” She posed the question in a way that alluded to it being rhetorical. Still, he responded.

“When has that ever made it right?”

“Seldom few things are right,” she quietly countered. “My life included.”

“You don’t-“

“Would you just leave me alone, please!” She snapped, raising her voice until it cracked and she looked away. “I just want to be alone.”

He remained unmoving. “No one wants to be alone.”

“No, they don’t, but no one ever notices until it’s too late,” she barked back bitterly, Steve recognizing that he was venturing into the fragile territory. “Everyone always talks about how they lit up a room as soon as they walked in it, but no one ever talks about when that light starts to flicker when it’s about to go out.” A beat. “Until it’s too late.”

“That doesn’t make that right either,” he gently responded, inching forward ever so slightly when he noticed her move away, still, her hand not moving. “But you know that, don’t you…..”

“Why should I give you something when you’ve given me nothing?”

For some reason, he felt like her question had more than one meaning and multiple recipients.

“Steve,” he supplied. “Steve Rogers.”

She was quiet, eying him over warily. “You look like a Steve.” She cut her eyes, avoiding his intense gaze. “Brooklynn.” He stilled and bit back a smile, something she noticed. “What?”

“That’s where I’m from.”

She continued to watch him with skepticism. “How did you end up here?”

Steve was thoroughly surprised that she seemed genuinely unaware as to just who he was, and that was something that he actually enjoyed. Everywhere he went, he was met with the smiles and often faux friendliness people who only saw a potential investor instead of, well, a person.

Brooklynn clenched her jaw and turned away. “Please, just go.”

“You asked me a question.”

“And now I’m asking you to leave.”

He didn’t even flinch. “I can’t do that.”

“God.” Her eyes shut as she tilted her head back, Steve watching as she foolishly tried to hold back her tears. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been involved in something so important in my entire life.”

He noticed the pause before she spoke. “There’s nothing important about me.”

“I don’t believe that eit-“

“Why do you think I’m here!” She shouted, eyes narrowing and jaw trembling from the strain of trying to hold it all together. Physically and emotionally. “I have nothing to offer the world! I am nothing! I’m doing everyone a favor!” She looked down at her stomach, her hand moving in slow, circular motions. “Especially her.”

He focused in on the only positive part of her decree. “It’s a girl?” She said nothing. “I bet she’ll have your eyes.”

“You know what she will have?” Again, her gaze returned to the water. “Peace.” She sniffled and tearfully delivered. “That’s the only good thing I have to give her.”

“No, no.” Steve shook his head and wondered why he hadn’t pulled his phone out to call 911 even though something told him doing so would only cause her to finish what she’d come there for. “There’s so much you have to give her, Brooklynn. To give to the world. To give to yourself.”

“Oh, really?” She snapped, once again raising her voice with piqued rage and pain. “I have no money! I lost my job! I was evicted because I couldn’t afford my rent! My mother wants nothing to do with me because of my baby even though it was her husband who did this to me! And I-“ She broke down in a sob when she brought her left hand to her face. It was a bit of a blur after that, but next thing Steve knew, he had her in his arms, tugging and securing her into his embrace.

“Let me go! Get off me!” She screamed, legs flailing as he pulled her off the railing forcing her to stand before her legs started to give, forcing her down, Steve going with her. “Get off of me!” She continued to fight him as Steve managed to subdue her with one arm while reaching for his phone to make the call.

“Yes. I need an ambulance—“

“No! She screamed with more emotion than rage as Steve continued his request and a brief description, recognizing when her hits started to let up, the anger in her voice also dying down. “No, no, no,” Steve’s responses to the dispatcher stopped as he paid closer attention to the way she sobbed into his chest.

Though he’d never been in such a position, basic humanity drove him as he tightened his embrace around her, whispering encouraging words into her ear while wondering just what exactly he’d just involved himself in.

———

Steve stood outside the hospital room, his eyes focused on the sleeping woman whose wrist was bound as she slept peacefully despite the chaos that had proceeded her visit. He hadn’t let her out of his sights, sans when she was taken in the back for evaluation.

“When you said you needed time to yourself, this isn’t what exactly I pictured you doing.”

The CEO turned his head to look over at the man with a chart in his hand, arms crossed, and a grim expression on his face.

“How is she?”

Thor sighed, the doctor joining his childhood friend as the two looked through the thick glass. Physically, fine. She and the baby are healthy. Again, physically.”

Hearing that both Brooklynn and her child were alright relieved him of a thin layer of his concern. “Tell me about her.”

Thor exhaled deeply. “You know, I can’t-“

“Thor.”

The blonde shook his head. If it were anyone else, he’d have called security, but this wasn’t just anyone. And Steve had in fact saved this woman’s life. “Brooklynn Dove Hawkins. 26. 4 months and two weeks pregnant. When we put her name in the system, an emergency contact popped up. It was her mother. We reached out.”

“And?”

Thor frowned. “Told us to remove her name from the list and to never call her again.

Steve froze. “Are you serious?” Thor nodded sadly. “No wonder she….” He stopped himself. “How long does she have to stay here?”

“Until I release her, which I won’t do until I am confident that she’s no longer a risk to herself or the child,” Thor responded firmly. Friend or no friend, he still had a duty and an oath to fulfill. “Steve—“

“She’s staying with me when she gets out.”

“What?” Thor’s eyes widened slightly. “Rogers, you don’t even know this woman-“

“And?” Steve countered. “She needs help, Thor.”

“Yes, extensive. Medical for the baby, psychological for herself-“

“Get me the best psychiatrist you know so we can get her an appointment. An OB-GYN too. What else-“

“Rogers—“

“And as soon as she can, I want her moved to a private room.”

Thor paused. “You’re serious about this.” The Norwegian native released another sigh. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. As long as he’d known Steve, the man was never able to turn away from someone in need. This, however, this woman was a total stranger, and yet his friend seemed determined to help her as much as he could.

“Steve....” He stepped closer to the businessman. “If this is about Sharon-”

As Brooklynn’s eyes started to flutter open, Steve slapped his friend on the arm, welcoming the interruption. “Get on it.”

Before Thor could reply, Steve entered the room and carefully approached Brooklynn’s bed.

Running his hands over his face, Thor ran his hands over his face and decided to give the two a few minutes before he went in there, walking down the hall to make a few calls.

“Hi.”

Steve spoke quietly, watching how Brooklynn took a few seconds to look around the room, most likely taking time to take in her surroundings, the last few hours playing back in her head.

“Great,” she whispered and bit her lip. “More bills I can’t afford.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he quickly dismissed. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Brooklynn chuckled bitterly and shook her head. “Yeah, right.”

He frowned. “I’m serious.”

Brooklynn looked over at him, studying his face, his eyes, the confused way that he was looking at her. “Why would you do that?”

Steve grew quiet and walked over to the seat near the hospital bed when he noticed that she tried to move away. Ignoring her resistance, he took a seat and clasped his hands together. “Listen.....Brooklynn.”

“You need help, and I can provide you with that help.”

“And in return?”

“Nothing,” he affirmed. “I-I have a pretty large house, 8,000 sq. ft.. My younger sister, Nat, she’s around your age, she stays with me. So does Peggy, a live-in maid-”

“You have a live-in maid?” Brooklynn interrupted. “What do you do?”

He chuckled. “Not much these days.” When she continued to eye him with confusion, he continued. “What I’m saying is that it wouldn’t just be you and me, there are other people in the house.”

Her gaze softened. “What?”

“You can take the time you need to get on your feet and whatever else you need-”

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was quiet and soft, the softest Steve heard since they’d met in the strangest of circumstances. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you to want to help you.”

And for the face time that day, Steve saw the faintest hint of a smile on her face. “That’s not a very good reason.”

He shrugged and quipped a brow. “It’s been a long day.”

She mirrored his eyebrow quirk and motioned to her wrists to which he sheepishly muttered a quiet, “sorry.”

Brooklynn was quiet again, eyes focused on her stomach, her eyes watering as she whispered. “Are you serious?”

He nodded softly. “Yes.”

Again, a brief silence fell over the small hospital room, Steve wondering only for a brief second if he was making the right decision. He knew he was doing what he needed to do, what was right.

“Okay.”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

She avoided his gaze and asked. “Your sister lives with you, yeah?”

He shook his head. “And Peggy.”

“The maid.”

“You catch on fast.”

Steve was warmed at the sight of her small smile when she spoke again. “Thank you......Steve.”

The billionaire nodded and dropped his head before matching her smile. “You’re welcome, Brooklynn.”

#Steve Rogers #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain american fi #marvel fandom #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x black!oc

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Ghost of Tsushima Review: A Beautiful Homage to Akira Kurosawa

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Ghost of Tsushima is a daring departure for Sucker Punch, who since 2009 has worked solely on the Playstation-exclusive Infamous series. While those games were steeped in modernity, offering sprawling cityscapes players could explore from top to bottom via superpowered “conduits” Cole MacGrath and Delsin Rowe, Ghost of Tsushima’s open world is set in feudal Japan. It’s here that we meet young samurai Jin Sakai, who must defend his homeland, the titular island of Tsushima, from an invading Mongol army.

Right off the bat, the shift in time period and milieu to 13th century Japan is notable because Sucker Punch handles it so brilliantly, especially for the team’s first foray into the samurai genre. Japanese history and culture are woven into every single facet of the game so elegantly and organically that you’d think the team had been developing games set in feudal Japan for the past decade, not sci-fi superhero romps. More than anything, Ghost of Tsushima is a moving homage to Japan, its history, and its people.

The story opens with a massacre. A massive Mongol army, led by the cunning Khotun Khan, storms the beaches of Tsushima and is met by the island’s woefully outnumbered samurai contingent. When the leader of the samurai challenges Khotun to a one-on-one, fair fight, the Khan renounces the honorable gesture in gruesome fashion, literally setting the courageous samurai on fire in front of both armies. The rest of the samurai are obliterated on the beach, while Jin’s uncle, Lord Shimura, is taken prisoner by the Khan. Jin is also fatally wounded but is miraculously nursed back to health by a new ally, a thief named Yuna who needs his help in return.

These opening moments set the tone for the rest of the game. The philosophical conflict between honor and deception is the beating heart of the story and permeates the gameplay in riveting ways. As you fight to take back Tsushima from the Mongols, you can approach enemy encounters in two ways. You can choose to fight honorably, like a true samurai, and challenge enemies to a “standoff,” a quick-reflex mini-game of sorts in which you and one of the baddies face off one-on-one and see who flinches first before one of you slashes his blade through the other. You’ll then have to take on the rest of the enemies all at once, which is no easy task.

The other option is to fight like a “Ghost,” sneaking into enemy camps, killing the bad guys in their sleep, poisoning them, using intimidation tactics to scare them into fleeing battle. It’s an effective way of evening the odds between you and your foes, but it rails against everything the samurai stand for.

Countless games offer the player the option to approach combat either stealthily or head-on. This is far from a novel concept, and in this respect, the combat in Ghost of Tsushima offers little innovation. But what is innovative here is how Sucker Punch has taken the classic device of stealth vs. frontal assault and given it new life by expertly integrating it with the themes of the story.

Jin meets a handful of allies on his journey, each with their own multi-chapter story arcs that delve into their respective backstories. There’s sensei Ishikawa, a master archer whose protege has gone rogue and joined the Mongols. Lady Masako is a warrior and grandmother whose entire family was murdered by the Mongols, though she suspects they may have died after someone close to the family conspired with the enemy.

Each of the characters explores the honor vs. dishonor theme in unique and surprising ways. The dichotomy is most starkly represented in the clash of ideals between Lord Shimura, who is unshakably honorable and would rather die than gain an unfair advantage in battle, and Yuna, who understands that, to beat an enemy who fights dirty, you may have to put honor to the side for the sake of saving your people. Of course, Jin is caught in the middle and struggles to decide what kind of man he wants to be.

Aside from the ties to the story, the gameplay is fun and engaging. The swordplay combines parries and dodging with a more strategic approach to melee, as you try to find ways to build up your enemy’s stagger gauge. You can also use “ghost weapons” to give you an edge in battle, like kunai (throwing knives), smoke bombs, arrows, and more. There are also four stances to master, with each being effective against a different enemy type. Switching between stances is integral to combat and becomes second nature over time. There’s also an insanely cool fifth stance that I won’t spoil here, but it’s spectacularly badass.

Stealthing is strikingly similar to what you’d see in an Assassin’s Creed title (this is a compliment), and the game gives you myriad ways to kill enemies without raising alarms, like throwable wind chimes and firecrackers that allow you to manipulate their positioning or hallucinogenic darts that turn them against each other. Again, this is all stuff we’ve seen before, but it’s pulled off well here.

Release Date: July 17, 2020 Platform: PS4 Developer: Sucker Punch Productions Publisher: Sony Interactive Entertainment Genre: Action-adventure

Unfortunately, there are little gameplay flaws that needled at me, especially in the later hours of my playthrough (it took me around 45 hours to finish the game). The swordplay requires quick reflexes, and mastering parries and dodging is absolutely pivotal to your survival. The problem with the swordplay is subtle, and a little difficult to explain, but I’ll say it like this: in most games that are particularly challenging, when I die, I feel like it was my fault because I made a mistake, I just wasn’t fast enough, I hadn’t mastered certain skills. But on many occasions in Ghost of Tsushima, I felt like I died because the game didn’t give me a fair shot, like it was the game’s fault that I failed, not mine. It’s possible that I just wasn’t very good at the game, but it felt at times like I wasn’t given a choice in the matter. Your mileage will vary with the game’s difficulty level.

There are other things that bugged me, too, like the unreliable climbing mechanics (I swear, sometimes hopping onto a rope or branch that’s literally right in front of you is way, WAY too difficult). But overall, I had a great time playing the game and felt super powerful by the time I’d filled out my skill trees, which is no surprise considering the game was made by the same folks who made Infamous.

On a nuts and bolts gameplay level, Ghost of Tsushima doesn’t feel all that unique — there is some very familiar open-world stuff here. But on a presentation and storytelling level, the game is out-of-this-world amazing. Visually, the game looks stunning. The late-stage PlayStation 4 graphics really deliver, and coupled with the strength of the art design, Ghost of Tsushima is a true head-turner. The character models look fantastic and can emote on a level that supports the drama of the story. And while the different suits of armor that Jin acquires offer unique gameplay perks, I honestly just collected and upgraded them almost exclusively as an aesthetic indulgence. They look so freaking cool.

But the real stars of the show are the environments, which look picturesque from every conceivable angle. The wind-swept, verdant hills of Tsushima are intoxicatingly pretty, to the point where I’d get caught up ogling for minutes on end at the smallest of details, like the way the moonlight bounces off blades of grass or the way Jin kicks up crimson-red leaves that have blanketed the ground over time. I could go on forever about the dynamic day/night cycle, the beautiful rendering of different fabrics and materials, the horse animations. But instead, I’ll just say that this is the most breathtaking game, visually, that I’ve seen in recent memory.

A lot of love also went into infusing the game with Japanese cultural references, particularly in how the developers pay homage to the samurai genre. Each mission, for example, is bookended by cinematic intertitles that evoke old samurai cinema, Japanese characters, and all. But without a doubt, the most obvious/most amazing homage is “Kurosawa Mode,” which presents the game in black and white, with one of the best film grain filters I’ve ever seen in a game, resulting in an experience that looks almost exactly like a film from the iconic Japanese auteur’s oeuvre, right next to Sanjuro and Seven Samurai. If you’re a long-time fan of Kurosawa, turning the mode on may even elicit an “I’m not crying…you’re crying!” response — it’s that pretty.

I initially intended on playing the entire game in Kurosawa mode but quickly realized that it would be problematic to do so for a few reasons. Some missions require you to “follow the (insert color) flowers,” which is obviously impossible in black and white. And in combat, blockable enemy heavy attacks are signaled by a blue glint, while unblockable ones have a red glint. Combat is tough enough as it is, so…yeah. I only turned the mode on when I was riding on my horse through the countryside and I felt like treating myself to some eye candy.

Taking time to smell the cherry blossoms and have a respite from the game’s many missions and side missions is crucial because Ghost of Tsushima is a long, long game. The missions aren’t overly repetitive — most of them feel really special actually, like when you climb a mountain in freezing cold weather and must race from campfire to campfire on your ascent, or one armor quest comprised of several one-on-one duels with straw hat swordsmen scattered about the map, each with a distinct personality. But 40-plus hours is 40-plus hours, and while the main tasks of infiltrating enemy camps, liberating farms, and searching for special gear can lead to questing fatigue at the tail end of the game, the nice thing is is that you can always slow things down and just enjoy the scenery to break things up. There’s even a nifty photo mode to play with, and if any game warrants a photo mode, it’s this one.

Jin’s story isn’t just a means to an end, or a lazy excuse to drag the player from gameplay scenario to gameplay scenario. The story is incredibly well written and profound in its messaging and imagery, so much so that I believe it’s one of the best modern entries in the samurai genre, regardless of medium. All of the characters you meet and the little tales that unfold across Tsushima are filtered through Jin’s inner struggle with what honor really means and whether or not it’s worth dying for, which gives the story an incredibly strong narrative backbone. Despite the game’s epic scope, Jin’s journey actually feels quite intimate and personal. The same could be said of Kurosawa’s best work, and that’s just about the highest compliment I can give.

The post Ghost of Tsushima Review: A Beautiful Homage to Akira Kurosawa appeared first on Den of Geek.

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borderline-off-fangame · 4 years

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...It’s the 5th anniversary of development... eeeeeeuuuugh

yea this is my genuine reaction I suppose.. Just when I thought 2016 was my rock bottom year, 2020 decided to show up and obliterate my dumb ass and send me right into the void.. Anyways before I begin I have an announcement to make!

I made a redbubble, where eventually I will be making Borderline merch.. I have 2 designs so far, not Borderline related doe, better something than nothing.

Now time to talk about stuff.

A while ago I said that I am disassociating myself from the fandom, and when I finish Borderline I will be leaving it entirely. I still do stand on that hill as I work on the game on my own pace.. I think last year I said that everything is being re-written, but I barely made much progress because I was hyper-focused on writing prompts and new concepts for the game, which took a lot of time, that I just.. didn’t put too much focus on the game.. Also this year I managed to land 2 jobs, but were short lived. Covid happened, shit hit the fan real hard, surprise that I remained sane after all this... I did eventually un-focused from writing the prompts when I had a solid idea of what exactly I wanted, and began from there. Or at least tried to. I began to lose a lot of motivation due to many factors that left me entirely drained to even give a shit about anything. I’ve been contemplating on just canning the game and leaving it in development limbo, but like always, I come back to work on it... On my own pace that is.

I know I haven’t posted much progress, mostly panoramas, pictures and even animated panorama sequences. I know the pace has been quite slow, but it’s better than nothing I suppose.. So, have you got any updates for us? I guess..

The game so far stretches from the intro sequence, to the end of Zone 1. I began working on Zone 2, but animal crossing happened. 😔 I suppose I’ll have to boil down to what I exactly mean.

Intro sequence: -Added a settings menu, where the first thing you see is the Creator’s room, which is a settings menu. You talk to me first, the Creator before proceeding forward. There are three things you can change. Time based events changes the time, you can add an extra 15, 30 or 45 minutes to your event, giving you enough time to finish your event. If you think this setting is useless, then sorry to say this isn’t for you. There are neurodivergent.. is that the right word? neurodivergent? like.. individuals with mental illnesses?.. i think that’s the word... anyways.

Some neurodivergent individuals have provided me with a feedback suggesting to extend time a little as they have issue focusing on the event when time is ticking.. Of course, there is a prompt to that: this only extends time for events above 4 minutes, events less than a minute (the usual Orodemus event) do not count.. It wouldn’t make sense to add extra minutes to short-timed events, when it takes about a minute to finish..

Second is dialogue box colors. There are.. 8 colors, the original Borderline, and 7 additional colors which you can change with a mere click. Because of how the event is made, might take some time clicking, but don’t worry, there is another computer where you can reset all your changes. Finally there is Two-Crown locations. Two-Crown is Birb, they just had a name change to fit the story they’re in, as they are a part of a bigger story. There are 3 options. No arrows, add arrows, and the last one which has consequences, do not include two-crown in the game. Not including two-crown will have some consequences to that. What will it be? Well, I’ll have to work on that when I finish everything else so I have a solid idea of what I will do if people choose that last option.. It’s not gonna be fun for either of us.

-Introduction story has been changed, and a new sequence plays out. -chipsets have been altered to fit the OFF world. -Max is still Max, but in the eyes of everyone, he is seen as an Elsen.

-Puppeteer boi has some minor changes, where they actually look like an alien.

-Some stuff remain the same: Go find puff, puff has work, go on your own. -Puppeteer has SOME personality at least.

-world map

Zone 0:

-Dialogue changes here and there, side-quests remain the same. -Fat Fuck Friday Judge. He can’t do the jumps no more. 😔😔

Zone 1:

-Dialogue changes, a lot. -Introduction of new hybrid elements that explains the existence of nature. -Crystal theme which was originally for Zone 1, is moved to Zone 4. Now you have metal minerals to harvest. -Orodemus has been fleshed out a little and will make appearances here and there. -Dedan is back to being this mean-spirited creature. -Natural burnts are now called Alters (they don’t burn, they alter their bodies in most gruesome ways in a sense to show that the hybrid elements are out of control.) -Playable flashback sequences. -Certain defeat handlers have varied results.

Overalls:

-Gabriel got a design change

-Ammie/Rho now appears in the game -the main antagonists will have more screen time. -Dialogue changes everywhere. -Animated panorama.

and I suppose that’s it.. Happy 5th year of development.. I guess..

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hoopdiddies · 5 years

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I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 10)

A/N: I am so sorry that I have not been on for a full week. The phone I had used to edit this in broke and I had to buy a new one plus this is the last chapter and apparently the longest, regardless of my recent claims of the previous ones being the longest lmao. I hope this won't disappoint, I couldn't think of a more consistent flow due to the days I've been without my phone to type some ideas in. I hope you guys will enjoy this last part anyway, and thank you so much for supporting this entire series! I have a new series in mind but it's a WIP. Thanks again for all the love! IMPORTANT NOTE: I WILL BE CUTTING A PART IN THIS CHAPTER AND PUTTING IT UNDER A PART 10.1 IMMEDIATELY AFTER I POST THIS FOR THE SAKE OF THE LIMIT. TAGS WILL BE MENTIONED IN THE COMMENTS

Summary for this part: A wedding brought you apart and it will be a wedding that will bring you back together.

Warnings: A good balance of fluff and angst, mention of injuries and alcohol and some long ass writing.

WC: A whopping 10k

Parts: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

You are painfully a feet away from the door and yet here you are, frozen after having turned 180 degrees only to stumble upon those eyes you had hoped to gaze into again. One swallow from you and you begin gliding along the tiled surface towards him, checking through every pad whether or not he's really awake.

After stopping at his side, you are now certain you're not anywhere close to dreaming. "Ben?" His name leaving your lips like an answered prayer. He's staring back at you with his left eye half-open – taking into account his current sensitivity to light– but with the same energy he exudes everytime you're together.

His chapped lips curl into a smile so slow yet so sweet at the same time; almost an upgrade to his classic 'Benny beam' which you had fun dubbing back in the days. "Y/N..."

And once again, you disrupt the orderly function of your tears and let them gush down, quickly but carefully wrapping your arms around him in bittersweet joy, exclaiming his name thrice into his hospital gown. "You...you bloody idiot! I thought you'd never wake up..."

Having just woken up from a coma, his voice comes out extra breathy and brittle but full of life, chuckling at how you're greeting him back into the conscious world. "Is that...is that how you welcome your best mate back?"

You shake your head ardently, sniffling against his chest and taking in the scent of mint. "Shut up. You frightened us!"

He really wakes up seconds before the clock strikes 'it's too late'. The convenience is hardly believable.

"I'm gonna call the doctor and tell him you're up." You act swiftly on your feet but a grip as strong as you least expected it to be hinders you from taking a step away and you turn around at Ben who's woven his fingers around yours. You give him a concerned yet quizzical look for it.

He sighs deeply, closing his logy eyes for a brief moment before opening them to you– gazing up at you meaningfully as he draws you close with the little, physical strength he has left. "You frightened me, rather."

"What... are you talking about?"

You won't admit it now but the way his fingers are currently snaked around yours could make your heart palpitate any second now.

His green eyes bore into yours effectively, suddenly invalidating your surroundings and making it seem like it's just you and him on the face of the entire planet.

He struggles to swallow before repeating. "You frightened me. You're still leaving..."

His voice crack as he said 'leaving' obliterates the fragments of what was once your soul, punching a gaping hole as a replacement. How is he able to remember your emotional outburst at the after party when he has just woken up and should at least forget a few details?

But then you realize you've been talking to him a lot as he was out of order.

You nod unfortunately, laying your hand on his which is still fondling your other one. His skin has warmed up a notch and that's a progress. You need to clarify this to him again since the last time you did, you both ended up in disarray and in the middle of the road.

"I...I've already told you everything."

"I don't wanna- I don't wanna lose you."

"Ben..." You cut off as your hopeless gazes meet like lightning, his irises darkening at the manner in which your eyes have transfixed on his.

"Please..."

Worried that his stable condition might shift due to the rising agitation he's showing, you sit beside him and bring his knuckles up to your lips, hearing the beeping of the heart monitor quicken which sounds incredibly alarming, an indication that his heart rate has elevated due to his induced stress.

You press your lips into his pale knuckles with your eyes thoroughly shut hoping to soothe him through it, tears trickling from your cheeks and onto the back of his hand as you choke on your words. "Ben...come on. You know I can't stay, you have to understand that."

He slowly shakes his head, biting his bottom lip as he grimaces at the bitterness, softly but agonizingly begging for you to reconsider. "You have to. Please, love. I need you to. I want you to."

Do the short term effects include stubbornness? Cause he's really determined to get you to stay no matter what. Joe must be tortured with waiting by now and at any given moment, he's bound to consider barging in.

You kind of hope he would. God, you should be out there notifying his attending physician about his regained consciousness and for goodness sake, Rosy ought to be here for this. She can't just wander out whenever she likes when her fiance's an injured man struggling to recover.

While keeping his trembling knuckles close to your lips, you move closer and question him, your voice downsizing to an unsteady whisper. "Why? Ben, I'm leaving primarily to pursue a career. Not just because of some heartbreak, this is a dream come true. I'm finally a stair close to reaching it. Why aren't you at least happy for me?"

"I am..."

"Then you have to let me go."

"It's not that easy..."

"Do you think it's any more easier for me? No! But this is what must be and you have to trust me on this," it's as if your heart is in your mouth from feeling so harrowed by all of this, but you have to make him see that this is the only way and that it is also important that you leave, "I'm sorry if I said some things that night that weren't exactly the way I felt. But I have to leave. You're getting married to Rosy soon, you know. Don't worry about me..."

He wishes he could just sit up with ease and cage you in his arms but all his incapacities at the moment are inhibiting him from doing so. Knowing he can't do anything about it emotionally deflates him.

He withdraws his hand a little and presses it to your flushed cheek, kneading your delicate skin as he shakes his head gently to prevent the dressing around his head from becoming less taut.

"I think I know well enough who I want to marry now..."

You can't distinguish what present beating has accelerated; the heart monitor's, your own heart, or at best both. But you're sure as hell his words weren't a product of your own imagination, your eyes drifting from one of his orbs to the other in a daze, looking for any sign that would prove that it's not you he's directed it at but it does otherwise.

"What are you saying?"

The skin of the front of his neck moves along as he swallows dryly to assure you the realness of his words, his thumb traveling up your face to wipe the moist corner of your eye. "I'm a bloody wanker for taking so long to see...that you're the one who has always kept me grounded, who has always made me feel more like myself. Even as far as making me feel like I don't need all this fame to lead a good life, " his breath shortens between each sentence and your jaw goes slack as he exploits the atmosphere to continue, eyes buried deep into yours as if the space in between doesn't even matter anymore.

"I'm an idiot...for not realising sooner that it's always been you."

"Ben-"

"I love you too, Y/N L/N, more than the way I used to. How could I ever be happy without you? We promised neither of us is going anywhere, right? "

Definitely not in the context of mere friendship. For a moment, you make it your quest to find your voice to react and you do.

"You can't. You can't- I mean, what about Rosy? Surely your feelings for her wouldn't just go away like that-"

"It's been doused for so long with the ones for you growing," he's thumb is now gingerly stroking circles on your cheek, the green in his eyes gleaming, "that dance at the after party put me in my place and I asked you if you were still coming to my wedding because...it was my way of telling you how I felt at that moment."

Despite the idea coming off a little incoherent, you immediately get the bottom line. It would've been like coming to your own wedding. You study his gaze confusingly before coming to believe that he actually does love you back in the way you always have.

The words have been built up from the moment he whipped out his share of the polaroid and reestablished his promise as the way he felt towards you took a dramatic turn.

Yet no matter how badly you want to stay and finally work some things out with him, he's engaged and you're leaving in 45 minutes.

And what of Rosy? Hopefully Ben wouldn't think of just fragmenting her like that.

Your deafening silence puts Ben under a heap of worry as he painfully anticipates for your reaction. You shake your head at the unlikelihood of your present situations, bringing your eyes shut as you respond in the only way you can without any words needed to express how sorry you are and how much you've waited for him to say it.

Against your better judgement, you lean your body towards him and catch him off guard with the most bittersweet, goodbye kiss anyone could ever exercise on a moment's notice.

You can tell his positive response with how rapid the heart monitor pulses are becoming and how his lips have begun moving passionately against yours.

His eyes flutter shut in return, tangling his fingers in your hair as he dares to deepen the kiss, eager to feel every inch of your lips as he knows that you still won't be staying after this.

Wait for me to come home...

You pull away catching your breaths as you rest your forehead on his, his hand stroking the back of your hair for the little time you have left in your hands.

This feels so wrong yet so right at the same time. Howbeit strong the desire to stay put, you break away before the spark between either of you becomes magnetizing enough to change your mind.

"Please tell me where you're going...please." He pleads yet you refuse to tell him where you're headed to avoid a fuss, shaking your head apologetically with the space between you both increasing.

"I'm so sorry." You whisper, retreating quickly to the door as you ignore his broken pleas and just in time to be welcomed by the doctor, Rosy and some nurses who are here to conduct another assessment. Your pulse picks up at the sight of an uneasy Rosy along with an extra glimpse of a tuft of red and a head of blonde hair overtopping from behind her, eager to check up on whatever is occurring.

Joe and Lucy.

You clear your throat as you utter quickly to the doctor, unable to set your gaze steady. "He's awake." Your update stirs them to hasten on their steps inwards and you don't bother to stop to give Rosy a glance as she brushes by you, with you feeling the slightest, if not an immense amount of guilt for kissing her fiance– your best friend, who now has to make a troubling choice in choosing between you and her. Most importantly, you wouldn't dare to contend with Rosy over this, you'd rather let it happen naturally and see where it would lead but that's the least of your priorities.

You've whizzed a meter past Joe and Lucy but freeze in your spot at Joe's frail call of your name, your shoulders relaxing after a brief pause. "Y/N...how did- how did it go?"

You remain static in your spot, just wanting to leave the building and basically see past everything.

"Let's just go."

Of course he and Lucy half expected your last conversation to be balanced on a scale of nonchalant to vehement but it went off the boundary of vehemence. With one more look at the closed door, the two catch up with you on your way out with a plan on revisiting Ben on their way back from the airport.

You lengthen the sleeve of your sweater and dab your eyes with it, striding towards the car and slipping into passenger's seat gracefully with the two trailing from behind. Once they climb in after you, they begin bombarding you with questions you'd expect them to drop but being so exhausted from all of drama just lessens your likelihood of elaborating your answers. With a few questions dismissed, you ask Joe to just step on it and he complies sadly.

Lucy gives you a sympathetic, lopsided smile and however stagnant your expression is at the moment, you return the favor as the car accelerates on the road ahead.

You bother to give the distancing hospital one last look; giving him one last look.

At the same time the doctors are asking Ben some questions and performing a few physical tests on him, you make it to the airport with some time to spare. Joe and Lucy accompany you into the waiting area agreeing to stick around just until your flight number is announced.

Propping your luggage bag against a vacant seat next to the ones Joe and Lucy are seated on, you dig through your pocket and pull your phone out to check if there are any calls you've slept on. So far nothing of the sort but a dozen texts from friends and acquaintances wishing you the best on your flight to Spain, though you still have to return to London to collect your essentials.

Their words coax a small smile on your lips and after pressing the button to your home screen, the wallpaper brings a small tear to your eye– you and Ben with your arms wrapped around each other beaming goofily at the shutter of the camera.

In this instance, you begin wondering why photos and pictures

have become such a recurring emblem in your friendship. Joe and Lucy notice the sadness spring out of your eyes and cloud your features as you gaze one last time at your phone, and they instantly figure out what you were looking at. Lucy gets up and turns you around softly by the shoulder, prompting you to talk it out to them prior to leaving. If it unloads the stresses you're under then you agree to it, telling them what went on inside the room not too long ago.

Upon mentioning the bit where Ben confessed to you and was insistent on not letting you leave, Joe breathes out a firm, "I knew it" and Lucy shakes her head incredulously at Ben's 'perfect' timing but overall they're both glad he's opened his eyes– in a metaphorical and physical sense– to the person who has always been worthy of that spot in his life. As your conversation comes to a close, the announcement of the boarding of your flight number limits your bittersweet goodbyes however you do promise that you'll call them as soon as you touchdown.

"You better do well out there! Don't forget to call us every once in a while. Or everyday, damn it!" Joe calls out after blowing multiple kisses to you, he and Lucy bidding you an effective farewell. You wave back at them with a reassuring grin before disappearing into the crowd of bustling passengers, huffing sadly underneath your breath as you trail your finger smoothly across your bottom lip– where Ben had left his precious, goodbye mark for you. Something you ought to hold on to dearly for the moments you'll be missing out on.

Many months later

During your first day in the University of Barcelona, you could've sworn it was all but a dream and at any given moment you could've awakened; but it wasn't. It was right before your eyes and you were standing upon the solid concrete that held those opportunities. In the first days you were but a foreigner; merely wandering around the campus with your textbooks in hand making your journey to the lab and cafeteria a noble quest. Like your life depended on finding your way through every twist and turn on a day to day basis, asking fellow students where particular rooms were as you struggled to maintain good eye contact.

It was an everyday uphill battle for everyone.

However things have improved immensely in the following months, you have gained new friends in most of your classes, developed a good sense of direction around the campus and you've scored solid 90's in your classes which you thought would be bumpy the first time but attainable anyway through nights spent with ounces of coffee, extensive reading and episodes of academic agony.

Despite the pressures in your first year, you still keep in touch with your friends and family back home, especially with Joe and Lucy to whom you had once swore to always call. They're glad to know you've been at your peak in the past few months plus they wouldn't stop making a fuss about how much they miss you and long to have some sort of reunion once you decide to go back for a break. They've been well too– Joe's planning on producing a new movie although he's not certain with the details yet, Gwilym has talked to you as well and he's thriving with new projects which you were quick to congratulate him on and Lucy - oh, darling Lucy- apparently Rami had taken her out of the country again and popped the question out of nowhere just two months after you left.

Of course, when she told you the news the hot brew you had nearly swallowed came spewing out of your mouth in surprise thereby catching the attention of the people you were with at that time. But that was out of happiness too, she's invited you to her wedding –a few months after breaking to you the news of her engagement– which is to take place two weeks from now, something you're unfortunately unsure of attending since you are steadfast on getting heaps of classwork done.

But you promised to update her if ever you found an opening on that week to squeeze in a flight.

"Aren't you coming with us? They're waiting downstairs and it's our only night off this week. " Ava, your roommate and closest friend among the others, asks as she slips on her cardigan, ready to leave for a night out. You've got a book propped up in front of you and you were just getting immersed in the lines you've taken your eyes off of. "Er, it's kind of a cold night out. You girls have fun anyway."

"You sure?"

You nod, flipping your pen in your fingers. "Just bring me home a smoothie while you're at it."

"Get your butt off the chair and do it yourself!" She whines as she throws a nearby ball of cotton at you and you giggle lightheartedly, wishing her and the girls good luck as she heads out, shutting the door behind her.

You're just relieved they can communicate fluently with you or you never would've gotten around the city easily. Just as you begin turning your attention back to your book, you suddenly lose the interest to continue and just close it for the night, picking your phone up and tossing yourself on the bed with a small jounce as you land.

You shift on your spot as you check through your messages, emails, some posts from friends and whatnot to pass the hour, eventually noticing a message from an unknown number sent just earlier today. Curiosity peaks in you and you don't think twice before clicking on it to read.

You've changed your number weeks prior anyway so it could be from someone you know whose phone number you haven't asked for yet.

Hey, Y/N.

I know this is out of the blue but it's been a while since I've heard from you and in all honesty I didn't even bother to contact you the first time out of the assumption that you might have busied yourself a lot and don't have the time to check your phone. But I've become so worried then that I had to decide to ask you how you're doing. How you're holding up wherever you are. If you're not overworking yourself since you tend to do that a lot. I know it's been months since we've last talked to each other but I just miss you. I miss seeing you, having those late night conversations that got you late in the morning for work, hanging out and your voice. I kind of want to call you but you might be occupied and I don't wanna be a bit of a bother.

I miss you so much, love. Every single day. I'm trying to distract myself with the new project I've taken but you're just impossible to sleep on. When will you ever be back?

Why does the tone of the message seem familiar?

You reread along the last lines and your heart comes to a stop at one word that gives away the possible identity of the sender.

The lingering silence in the room making it possible for you to hear the elevated throbbing of your heart. It's been a while since he's slipped into your mind and even until now, the love you have for him is still flourishing wholly. Even when you had your mind set on your studies, your heart unknowingly had some other priorities.

So has he called things off with Rosy because if he hasn't yet, the tone of the message wouldn't come off as sincere as this.

That's a question you don't need answered for the meantime however you wonder how he was able to text you when you've pretty much changed your number.

You hope he's fully recovered from that head trauma though it's been nearly a year since that happened. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, thinking about replying.

Hey. Ben if this is you, it's great to hear from you again.

Your eyes dart to the send button, taking a brief pause before hitting it and discarding your phone to the side at least hoping he wouldn't respond immediately because then it would lead to a conversation that might just turn awkward.

Never have you had an awkward talk with him so it's something you wouldn't want to acquaint yourself with.

You grab your pillow and press your cheek against it in uncertainty.

"Don't even start...thinking about him." You mumble groggily into the pillow and lay flat on your back as you begin wallowing in your own doubt, your eyes becoming droopy at every second spent on staring at the pale ceiling with your right arm and leg thrown over the pillow like you're never gonna let it go.

You never even considered seeing someone else because deep down, you still hoped for him. Though you had exchanged some stares and 'interactive' words with a few guys in your classes, none of them ever came or would ever come close to Ben.

- - - - - - -

This week's lab work gave your brain a mild whiplash with all the hustling you were required to do.

Every morning, you either had breakfast or not and it all depended on how early you had to be there. Provided that you had to take off in the early hours, you had to skip a good bite nearly every morning; plus you were all being assessed closely by your professor and so a downshifted movement was every bit as unacceptable.

At least now that you had just gotten off from your last period you can reward yourself with some good Mediterannean food that should be the ultimate dinner of your night.

You and Ava are seated around a table laughing and enjoying each other's companies with your plates and glasses half-filled with leftovers after a quick chow down, but your attention is quickly divided as a text from Lucy surfaces. She's asked you about your availability next week and you ought to re-check your schedule for it. Once again upon pressing your home screen button you can't help but let a longing smile take form on your lips at your wallpaper and with you being oblivious to Ava noticing, to your demise, she takes a sly peek at what you're looking at and disrupt your train of thought.

"Who's that?" Ava asks with a cheeky grin to which you quickly recoil with your phone held loosely in your hand.

"Nothi- no-one. "

As nosy as she is tenacious, she swiftly

snatches your phone from your weak grip and dares to unlock it, the wallpaper of you and Ben making her swoon in delight. "Y/N, how on Earth did you get Ben Hardy to hold you for a photo like this?" Squealing like a schoolgirl, Ava grills you with an inquisitive look. You've never bothered to tell her or any of your new found friends anything about your friendship with him and so now she thinks you're a fan who merely got luck in her favour for a picture.

If only she knew.

"I don't know? How'd you know it's him?" You speak up your mind, a fleeting blush crawling its way to your face.

" Bohemian Rhapsody was a hit, of course. Queen rocks and I was all for it," she gesticulates as a matter of fact and winks playfully, "and later on we were all for the cutie who played Roger Taylor."

You try your very best not to let a single squeak of laughter escape your lips as she begins drooling over him. What are the chances of her finding out, right? You would tell her about it and have her meet him however your situation is too dire to act in. Come to think of it, you haven't received a reply to your reply to his message. He could be juggling a lot in his hands at the moment, perhaps.

"Cutie. Yeah, he's cute. But the guy seems clumsy enough to drop your heart." Here you are throwing a sportive shade all the way from Barcelona.

As if she's taken a fake offense at your comment, Ava overdoes a gasp. "Is that how you say thanks?"

You respond with a one-shoulder shrug, your voice neutral to keep yourself from giving away the screams of your heart. "I'm just saying. What are we doing next week by the way?"

"As I've been told by Mr. Gomez, the school will be hosting an array of meetings with the BOD and so we're given a time off."

You blink thrice at her. "Seriously? Like a week?"

She forks a tapa from her plate and bites down on it, nodding at you. "Three days max." So you don't have the entire week off, but that's great. Given that you had told Lucy you'd update her about your availability during that time and now that you have a few days to spare, you're conditioned to go. You quickly get up from your chair and excuse yourself from Ava, making your way to the terrace to dial Lucy who you hope is reachable at the meantime.

"Hello?"

"Lucy, hey!"

"Y/N, thank goodness you called!"

"About my weekly update?" You bite down on your lip in excitement, swinging your leg back and forth aimlessly.

"What about it?"

"I'm free next week."

- - - - - - -

"And cut! Okay everyone, lunch break. We're not cleaning up the rubble yet so we'll leave it there for the next scene." At the sound of the clapperboard slamming, all stunts have been ceased until the next roll and the main actors retreat individually to their own trailers, one of which is Ben who is walking back within beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as a result of a car stunt he had to perform on set. He's glad he can finally swing his left arm with unbridled ease after disposing of the sling just two months back although he's left with a few scars; the primary one on his forehead from the trauma he had.

A PA hands him a bottle of water and he thanks her for the save, cracking the lid off and chugging away. He waves at his fellow co-stars before entering his trailer and slipping out of his sweaty shirt, dumping it on the edge of the bed.

He places the bottle on a coffee table and swipes his phone from his drawer, being welcomed by a heap ton of messages, one days older than the next. He scratches his head at the result of his constant business; not being able to find time to reply thereby impregnating his inbox with miscellaneous messages.

Three from Lucy which he is 'obligated' to check first and foremost. Ben's lips twitch to an uneven smirk as he reads her messages, amused that he's been invited to her wedding, along with other people.

He replies with a simple yet sincere, "Thanks, I'll mark it on my calendar" before proceeding to put his phone down on the bed. He sighs, taking out his wallet from his drawer and opening it to pick out something, the dual polaroid he's folded in catching his eye and all of his attention; and for a moment, his heart stops.

He pulls it out from its slot and unfolds it, the tape used to stick it together crinkled but still an effective adhesive. Without taking his eyes off of the polaroids, he plops down on the edge of the bed and wipes his forehead, hiding the ridiculous smile he now has on his face behind his hand. The memory still does things to him apparently and he has never let go since the day you kissed him goodbye. He can still feel the touch of your lips linger on his and admittedly, he traces his finger across the spot every time you cross his mind. The things you had said to him while he was unconscious ultimately stuck in his mind and he just longs to hear your voice once more. There are multiple times he forgets that you're not around to vent to or watch a good game of rugby with or do whatever you used to do together, no matter the trouble.

Generally speaking, he just yearns to be with you.

On a side note, he had long called things off with Rosy, exactly a day after he had awakened. Of course, she didn't take it easy but he knew damn well who he loved.

A heavy sigh leaves Ben's lips as he lowers his head at the frustration he feels for never owning up to his feelings.

She probably has some other guy in her life now. What are my chances? He thinks dryly to himself. "Hey, Ben? Break is over." The assistant director knocks on his trailer door and he tells him that he'll be out in a few. Tucking the polaroids back into his wallet, he snags the fresh shirt that's been laid out on the sofa across him and pulls it on, combing his blond hair back with his fingers before heading out to get the day done without realizing that he has skipped your reply.

With the days leading up to Rami and Lucy's wedding, they have never been more busier about any other event in their entire lives. They've decided on a beach wedding and to hold the reception there as well. Lucy has made you one of her bridesmaids yet you declined at first because that would mean you would have to fly in early for a practice down the aisle but she's assured you that practice wouldn't be necessary. She has taken care of the dresses and such and all you need to do is just fly down to California, again, to attend. Speaking of dresses, you bought her a little wedding gift yourself. It's something small but it's bound to suit her look.

You've told Ava about the wedding– excluding essential details like whose wedding it is specifically– and she's a little disheartened that you wouldn't be around to hang out with for the week but you've reassured her that you won't be long; considering you'll also be reviewing for upcoming tests.

"Okay, so it's a beach wedding? Drastic times call for some drastic measures, chica!" She exclaims and throw her arms up in the air, springing out of her bed and rummaging through her wardrobe as you throw what you can into one, just one luggage bag.

She pulls out a black two-piece bikini from the drawers and upon beholding it, you feel your eyes burn to a crisp. "There won't be any swimming, as far as I'm concerned."

"You'll never know. Just toss this in, it might come in handy." You swear you saw a mischievous glint in her eye as she said that. You press your lips into a tentative, hard line before surrendering, grabbing the pair from her and stuffing it in the unreachable depths of your luggage.

"Happy?" She nods vigorously and you sigh in defeat, zipping your bag close.

The day came and the jet lag is still real. You've flown in a day prior, exactly the day of Lucy's bridal shower and well, a literal bone crushing hug welcomed you on your way into the arrival area. She looked really fresh and bloomy before you arrived but afterwards, it was a messy head of hair and a waste of makeup, not to give it a stretch but it was. She's shed a few tears from how long you've been gone and you couldn't help but shed a few yourself, awfully missing her and the rest.

She's prepped a hotel for all her bridesmaids to stay in and you had some thoughts on how much she's spent but it's her wedding so who are you to question? As she helps you settle in your room, she pauses and brings you in for another big hug.

"Aww, Luce." You chuckle over her shoulder, rubbing her back.

She snaps her eyes shut and hums. "Oh Y/N, I've missed you. We all have. I know we call a lot even from a distance but it's been so long since we've last seen each other."

You sigh heavily, still holding her close.

"LAX. Yeah. It's only been a year but it feels like forever," you pull away deliberately, hands still firm on her shoulders with a heartfelt gaze, "Congratulations, Luce. You and Rami better make wonderful babies."

She smacks your arm lightly as an appropriate response to your little tease. "Shut it. Tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"Yeah," she planks down on the edge of the duvet and crosses her legs, leaning her body forward, "how's Spain? How's the school? The agony? Been seeing someone?" The last bit catches you by surprise; as if she's emphasized the question enough for it to be the main thing you have to answer. You disregard it for a few seconds until she brings it up again. You turn to give her an incredulous brow lift, something she returns with a curious grin. "Are you seeing anyone?"

In your mind, she should know that you've only ever had one guy in your heart but knowing Lucy, she just wants to hear you say it yourself .

You huff underneath your breath, planting your hands on your hips as you perpend on saying the following. "Spain is amazing. School is both heaven and hell. The agony exists in every divot, and no, I'm not seeing anyone."

"That's good."

You glance sideways awkwardly. "Okay? Is what good?"

"Everything, except the agony part, especially the last."

"I'm not seeing anyone?" You repeat and she nods with a blossoming smile. You don't say anything else since it's obvious that she's keen on letting you talk about Ben but today's not the day that you do. It's the day before her wedding and every present air particle should be all about her.

"Regardless, Miss Boynton. This week is all about you so," you alter your stance and skip to your luggage bag, unzipping one compartment and pulling out your wedding gift for her, "it's not much but I figured this looks better if it's on you." You hand her the palm-sized object and she lets out a little gasp at what you got her. It's a hair comb adorned with two, white roses and pale rhinestones that glimmer under the spilling light.

Something that would upgrade her sun-kissed beauty on a clear day. You try it on her and step back to picture her with the full ensemble as she walks down the sandy aisle tomorrow. "Good lord, look at you all grown up." You pretend to tear up and she tilts her head back in a burst of laughter, walking to you with welcoming arms and green eyes that are nearly brimming with tears.

"Oh I love it, Y/N! I knew something was missing in the outfit but you've completed it. It's perfect." She mumbles happily against your shoulder and her contentment tickles your insides.

"I'm glad you like it."

After giving you a look of what you'll be wearing tomorrow and a few, friendly introductions to the rest of the bridesmaids, the bridal shower is where everything is at. Ranging from colorful streamers to champagne to cake strippers, the latter putting you under uneasy situations when you just wished to enjoy your drink and your own space. At the same hour you're enjoying yourselves, on the other side of town is where Rami and the boys are on full swing with his bachelor's party. It has the same vibe, only without the strippers and streamers and constant belly-aching movement.

You just pray none of you will be waking up with hangovers at the hour you'll be fixing yourselves.

And indeed none of you have.

You've all waken up like ladies but clumsily as the realization of the time nudges you out of your beds. Ceremony starts at 9 and you're 5 hours early to ensure that everything progresses smoothly.

It's a condensed hustle within your separate rooms; the pattern of getting ready ever so similar. Shower, makeup, hair, dress, and retouch; all done in complete unison. With all the bridesmaids, including yourself, conditioned outfit-wise, you all gather in Lucy's room to assist in psyching her up for the big day. Her mom's in too to witness every precious second of seeing her daughter fly off on her own.

She's still in her robe but her hair and makeup have been beautifully done by one of her makeup artist friends. She's about to step into her gown, a sight the girls are just dying to see.

"Alright, Lucy. Let me just zip up the back." Says one of the girls who has helped with her makeup as Lucy stands confidently but nervously in front of the mirror, scanning her reflection. You fold your hands together in anticipation, gasping as she turns around slowly with the skirt of the gown gracefully following her turning motion. Her radiance could put the sun's to complete shame.

"Well, say something, girls." She prompts with a chuckle and as expected, it is followed by the uproarious squeal of everyone in the room including yourself. Rami is guaranteed to have his gaze super-glued to Lucy the moment she reveals herself. After having a dozen compliments shower her, you and the rest of the girls retreat outside to give her and her mother a time to talk. As you lean against the door frame, you fish out your phone from your purse and check your messages; coming across your reply to Ben which hasn't received another one from him yet.

You wipe off the downhearted smirk on your expression as the girls' murmurs increase as Lucy steps out holding a bouquet of flowers with her mom on her arm and the edge of her gown lifted by two assistants. She turns her head to find you and crooks her finger at you upon seeing you inclined against the frame, letting you walk by her side.

You notice she's sporting the gift you've given her and the sentimentality makes you want to tear up but in doing so would ruin your makeup and so you decide to save it for the kiss.

You lean in close to her and whisper in a flat but playful tone, your words making her giggle. "Rami's totally getting it."

"I'm not the only one who's getting it today." She winks at you and leaves you questioning what she meant. She made it sound like it's something you have to find out for yourself later on. The weather is fine and not as humid as you thought; the ideal atmosphere to marry under. The bridesmaids are to ride in a separate vehicle that will follow up behind the one Lucy and her mom will be taking. To say that your ride with the the girls to the resort turned out fun and noisy is an understatement; you couldn't be any more conscious about smudging your makeup as you busted your guts laughing at your topics. The driver had given you weirded out looks but you know he was just trying to feign a laugh. By the time you arrive at the resort, a gust of wind from the seaside welcomes you out and nearly messes up your hair though you've put it up in an elegant bun with your tendrils hanging loosely from the sides of your head. You traverse closely behind the rest of the girls and find the venue nearly packed with attendees in their most sophisticated dresses and suits. The altar is set meters away from the shoreline and a red carpet has been rolled out to serve as the aisle between lines of pillars decorated with tropical flowers. A gentle music piece is being played by a violinist and a cellist situated on the left side of the altar with waiters serving some four-seasoned refreshments for the guests to enjoy as they wait.

With all these people around, you can't help but wonder if either Joe or Gwilym made it. You haven't contacted Joe about arriving, given that you wanted to surprise him with your arrival. You peer down at your wristwatch and it's only an hour before the ceremony starts. Rami's nowhere to be seen and you badly want to congratulate him on this, but either way, he's probably attending to some other people and so you put that chance on hold.

As you had wished for yourself to be void of any mishaps today, you bumping into a tall figure as you turn around to walk away deters that possibility and mortifies you for a moment.

"Oh man, I'm so sorry-" You quickly apologize but cease as a familiar face meets your lifting gaze.

"What- Y/N?!"

"J-Joe?!"

"Y/N!"

"Joe!" After shamelessly screaming each other's names, you put no thought into the action of jumping into his arms for a tight hug. He's crushing you in one anyway. "Oh my g- what- when did you arrive, you little sneak? " He exclaims and lets you go for a split second, careful not to ruin your satin outfit. "You're going to murder me for this but yesterday."

His brows furrow in disbelief as his mouth hangs agape. "How dare you not tell me? I mean, I knew Lucy would invite you but...actually how dare you both for not telling me." He whines in a joking manner and you respond with a quick shrug. "Surprise, surprise."

"You sure did and wow," his eyes travel up and down your outfit and you click your tongue at him as he does, pointing your finger to your eyes that are aimlessly roving around his suit in the same manner. "Hey Mazzello, eyes here."

"Hypocrite, eyes here." He mimics your action mockingly and you take eye-rolling to the next level.

"Damn it Joe, I've missed you."

"Missed you too. Been a year but it feels like a decade and you look beautiful, by the way, in that outfit as a bridesmaid." He places his hand on your upper back and leads you into the lounging area that is close to the pool but not far from the event area.

"You don't look so bad yourself for a groomsman. "

"How'd you guess?"

"This is Rami's wedding. I'd know."

You got an hour to talk before you take your positions anyway so catching up would be vital. You settle down on the sofa and fit your talk into the time limit, telling each other about what went on in your lives for the past few months. A lot of interesting stuff has happened to Joe and he's absolutely lively as he talks about it however yours hasn't been much, just adaptation to a new environment and the academic agony. Your talk takes an interesting turn as Joe asks you a question related to something you haven't thought about for a few days.

"Since you're pretty much still on the market, you ever think about...you know."

Your brows crease at him. "What?"

"You know," he lifts his shoulder in a half shrug, "Ben."

"Oh." Is the only thing you can say. The answer is pretty clear, you do think about him but not on a daily basis. He comes across your mind when you've drifted off into oblivion with your thoughts or when something that may remind you of him catches your eye.

"Sometimes I guess. But not as deep as I used to."

"I know you miss him, Y/N, and he misses you too. Believe me, he tells me everytime he calls."

You cast him a short gaze but look back at your fingers, a little comforted by the thought and it motivates you to ask. "Is he still with Rosy?"

Joe scoffs, mildly amused and wholly relieved at the contrary. "That's the good news. He's broken things off with her long ago. Just a day after he regained consciousness."

"Really?" You won't admit it but part of you feels bad for her.

"Yeah and I'm not spoiling you the rest," he rises from his spot on the sofa and reaches out for your hand, pulling you up gracefully. "The thing's about to start." He gestures to the chairs that are beginning to get occupied by the people as the priest arrives. You walk back out alongside him, leaning in to ask out of curiosity. "What do you mean you won't spoil me the rest?"

"You'll see, now go skedaddle to Lucy. She needs her crew." He pats your shoulder with a crooked smile on and you sigh inwardly, waving at him as you divert paths; with you headed to where the rest of the bridesmaids and the bride herself are gathered.

"Gwilym! You're just on time." Spotting Gwilym making his way to join Sami – Rami's brother– at the front row of chairs on the right wing as one of the groomsmen, Joe greets him with a brief hug and takes his place next to him. Sami greets the two men as well, exchanging some remarks before being joined by Ben who had been caught in traffic on his way. "Benny!"

"Ben!"

"Hey, you guys! Am I late? Did I miss the vows?" He asks with a hint of irony as he takes the spot between Gwil and Joe, shaking hands with Sami at the same time. Not a minute longer they are joined by the remaining groomsmen and Rami who has finally garnered up the physical strength to stand on the altar without breaking a sweat.

"You got this, mate. Just don't look down. Your boutonniere looks nice if I might add." Gwilym simultaneously advises and compliments an already nervous Rami hoping to appease him yet earns a quick yet teasing smack from Joe for making a small joke out of the situation. To show them that he's actually better on every possible level, Rami stands tall and rests his hands on his front to exude that confidence and excitement of being minutes away from watching his soon-to-be Mrs. Malek grace the aisle with her presence.

The guests simmer down with their chatters as the first ones who will be walking down the aisle take their positions. The musicians stop playing as they wait for the cue to initiate the main piece in accordance with the first walk.

Among the ones that will be walking before Lucy's big entrance is you and though you'll be joined by your fellow bridesmaids, it somehow just quakes your nerves, tightening your grip around the small bouquet of flowers you've been given as a prop.

You can't understand why you're feeling nervous; you're not the one that's getting married but you just don't know why. The musicians are given the cue and they begin playing a familiar song, something contemporary but heart-achingly romantic.

"You okay?" Asks a fellow bridesmaid and you nod, telling her that you're a bit anxious. She reassures you with a smile and it unknots your tension. The guests and attendees turn their heads towards the threshold of the aisle and the sponsors begin walking down first. Next are some of their relatives, then you– the bridesmaids. There are at least seven of you and you come in fifth. As you begin sauntering down the aisle, you feel relaxed yet piercing eyes trail your movement yet you beg to differ and keep your head up with a mellow smile on your face as you keep your eyes ahead, your unsteady gaze fleeting from the altar and to the groomsmen seated at the front row of the right wing.

Your eyes land on Joe and Gwilym who start giving you bright beams as they notice you in an instant. If you weren't trying to walk sophisticatedly with all these people staring, you would let out the loudest, most awkward giggle. It's nice to see Gwilym again though. Just as you begin turning your unwavering attention away, you take a subtle double take at a certain pair of eyes that has found you long before you found them. You are meters away from reaching your end of the aisle and yet it seems as if you've only started walking with how the music has turned up and how you're exchanging astonished yet longing gapes with Ben who knows he is seconds away from exploding with who he's finally seeing. You're here as a bridesmaid for Lucy and yet ridiculously, you feel like the bride.

Of course he's here. Of course he's one of the groomsmen. Of course Lucy and Joe wouldn't tell you. Of course this is the thing Joe didn't want to spoil about. Why didn't you think about any of this earlier? It would've saved you the shock regardless of it being so obvious.

You gather the strength to break away from the trance you've put yourself in and stand next to the girls, using up all the willpower in your body to avoid risking a peek at the groomsmen– at one groomsman rather. It's the same struggle for Ben who is every bit as stubborn as the next person and does the contrary, going as far as tilting his head to one side just to cop a longer view of you, an action Joe notices and slaps his hand for. Ben winces a bit and gives Joe a questioning look for two reasons.

"Save it." Joe whispers flatly and yet Ben dismisses it and feels his breath hitch in his throat as the sight of you appeases his worries yet makes his heart run a mile. With the ring bearers and flower girls at the edge of their walk, everyone rises up at the reveal of Lucy. The music slows down to fit the pace of her walk with her mother by her side, her eyes finding Rami's and establishing a home in them. You glance at both of them and feel your heart inflate at how strong their love for each other is, something that usually only exists in novels and fiction. Lucy's eyes well with joyful tears as she reaches the altar and her mother finally surrenders her hand to Rami.

It's too much.

With you being too distracted by the spark between Rami and Lucy, you overlook Ben's unbreakable gaze at you. The moment you grew a smile, it invalidated everything else surrounding him.

The priest requests everyone to finally sit down and witness the lifetime commitment blossom. Throughout the ceremony, you can't help but feel his eyes sear through you yet you stand your ground and fix your gaze at the happenings on the altar, briefly failing every once in a while by finding yourself looking back at him. The moment has come for them to exchange their vows and you listen intently at every word sincerely uttered by the two. There are parts in their vows that make the people giggle and tear up at the emotion put into every word expressed. It seems surreal to you that the moment Rami tells Lucy that he's never going anywhere, your gaze meets Ben's and it becomes undeniably bewitching, Rami's words acting as a call back to your promises. As the rings are exchanged and the "I do's" are said, the priest pronounces them husband and wife and you tear your focus away from Ben just in time for Rami and Lucy to share their first kiss as a married couple. Cheers and applauds fill the air and even more tears of joy are shed at the start of their lifetime bond. They both couldn't look any more blissful, with the pair of them giddily flaunting their rings with grins so radiant and bright it undermines the power of the sun upon them.

The cheers and excitement continue at the reception which, of course, is hosted at the very same place. After the ceremony– you, the girls and Lucy took off to the rooms you've booked in the resort for the meantime to change into the appropriate apparel to match the vibe of the venue and even the venue itself. Rami and the boys drove back to their respective hotels to change as well and it was a bit hard for the newly weds to go their separate ways for a few hours just to change clothes. Now that you've all rejoined for the reception, lively doesn't even begin to cut it. It's just like any other wedding reception and like any other wedding reception, it's upbeat, smooth and a little haywire on the egdes. After going through with dinner and a couple of toasts and remarks about the funny side of Rami and Lucy's relationship, the dance floor is open for business. At first glance, the girls take you for someone who is in need of a lot acquainting with the dance floor and they're right; because of that they haul you in themselves and you end up enjoying moving around to the music. You decide to refreshen yourself with a glass of iced tea before returning to your fun. One gulp is all takes to replenish the energy lost and you turn around to head back but freeze in your spot at the sight of Joe with his hand out, asking you for a dance.

"Seriously?" You're not surprised but your brows shoot up in question.

"It's my way of saying 'I need to talk to you'. "

"We can do that outside." You gesture to the vacant space yet Joe insists that he dances with you as you talk. You purse your lips together, letting him take your hand and he pulls you along with him almost too abruptly, eliciting a ticklish squeal from you.

"Don't do that!" You whine as you both settle among the multitude of dancing people. He lowers his head in laughter and twirls you under his arm, drawing you close afterwards. You rest one hand on his shoulder as he holds up the other. "Where's the fun in talking outside now, huh?"

"Alright," you grin ridiculously, spotting Rami and Lucy in each other's arms as they slow dance near the mini stage, looking and feeling at one with the other. "Hey, doesn't it just warm you?" You poke Joe and gesture to the newlyweds. He peers over at them and hums in a heartwarming way. "Yeah. Man, it's like they're communicating with each other merely through their close-knit heartbeats."

"Speaking of communication," you clear your throat and give him a direct look, " what did you want to talk about?"

He snaps out from gauging at the two and leads you on a gentle sway as he swallows, increasing the volume of his voice just loud enough to cut through the music and for you to hear. "Right. About the thing during the ceremony," you immediately catch on to what he's trying to say and interrupt his next words.

"Okay, thanks for implying, but are you kidding me? Giving me stroke by hiding Ben's attendance?"

"It was for dramatic effect," your eyes flatten puzzlingly at his defense. "What was so dramatic in that besides the awkward... staring?" You know the truth and it really wasn't awkward; in fact it felt like time dilated between you both.

Joe ping-pongs his gaze from one end of the place to the other and back to you. "You paused after 'awkward'. You liked it." The smile on his face teasing you. He's really that sensitive to the nuance of your voice, making it easier for him to figure out how you actually feel about anything.

You evade his prying look and clear your throat, trying to keep up with the transition of the rhythmic music to a slow tune. "So what if I did?" You mumble intentionally.

"Nothing bad. Just Ben wouldn't stop fidgeting in his spot after seeing you. He was this," he makes small jerky movements with his upper body as to imitate Ben's inability to keep still during the ceremony, "antsy and I was this close to losing it."

You snort as you let an explosive laugh overcome you, recollecting yourself shortly as you are flattered by Joe's report. "I felt the same. It took every cell in my body to prevent myself from launching at him honestly."

"I'm glad we sat in separate tables or else neither of you would function like regular...human beings." The grin on Joe's face fades in the same manner as his last words, staring off at a figure approaching from behind you. He regains his voice in a matter of seconds, only with a sly twinkle in his eyes this time.

"You okay?" You ask him, slowly removing your hand from his chest and he nods vigorously, taking position to whirl you off but with a sneaky twist.

"I'm fine. Just... Gwilym wants to dance with you and he's right behind you so I'm going to spin you off to him, sound good?" He lifts your arm up and you shrug in agreement, going with what Joe's planning to do.

"Ally oop!" He twirls you around and releases your hand just in time for you to cling onto a firm frame, giggling at the rush you felt. "Hey Gwil! Good catch, that was a strong spin-" You take a hard pause the second you lift your eyes up with the expectation of meeting Gwilym's sapphire blues, greeting a pair of forest, green orbs instead and it becomes more than what you've bargained for. His veiny arms have caught you with ease and you're sinking, both literally and metaphorically, your arms awkwardly thrown over his shoulders for support.

He helps you regain your balance and smiles the smile you had craved to behold again, breathing out your name like he hasn't said it in a long time. "Y/N, hi."

You find your voice just in time to reply. "Ben...h-hi." He's looking quite good in an all white attire. His white dress shirt is tucked in and has three buttons undone, exposing a lot of his clavicle and a preview of his pecs and the way his white pants just hangs loosely around his legs– you've lost the proper words to describe the sight.

Joe, you crafty asshole.

#borhap #queen #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #borhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap imagine #ben hardy fanfic #imagine #fanfic

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maximusthewolfe · 4 years

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hope in the hopeless

Time Dwarf gets a sandwich. Margo and Eliot go camping.

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It took Eliot too long to realize that Margo was gone. To more accurately define “too long” in this particular fiasco: it took a slide to the center of the Earth, ham sandwich in hand to exchange for as many psychedelic Fillorian cave mushrooms as he could carry, a gloriously freeing trip that started somewhere around minute 45 of the slide back up to the surface, and a quiet, aching hollow that told him he needed more mushrooms to realize that Margo was gone.

He weighed a mushroom in his hand, staring at it like it held answers to questions he was too chickenshit to ask, before he shoved it back in his pocket and pulled out his flask instead. "Bambi, you better be grateful for this," he muttered under his breath before throwing his head back and gulping greedily. After drinking until he coughed from the burn in his throat, he capped the flask and set off in the direction of the dungeons. It was the only place he could imagine her being. Even on Margo's most furious days, she'd never stayed angry at him this long.

Annoyed, frustrated, and terrifyingly close to sober, Eliot twisted his fingers expertly, blowing the guards at the front of the dungeons away without a second thought. They hit opposing walls like rag dolls and if they were unconscious or dead, he didn't really give a damn.

"This is a little melodramatic, don't you think? Even for us," he mused when he found Margo, clinging to a drab piece of cloth on a cold, stone bench.

"Get me the fuck out of here, would you?" Margo hissed, standing from the bench and meeting Eliot at the bars of her cell.

Eliot knew Fillory wasn't really one for progress, but he thought maybe three centuries would have brought a little more advancement in the way of holding cells. He supposed he should be blessing the kingdom's ridiculous, archaic ways for making this so easy. He glanced up at her for the first time since her dramatic exit. There was a tension in Margo's brow, a tired, sad something in her eyes that hurt for Eliot to look too closely at. Hurt even more to think he might have caused it.

"You sure you don't need a little more alone time?" Eliot sniped, already raising the ring of keys he'd levitated off one of the immobile guards.

"I'm not alone, that's the fucking problem," Margo said, glancing back at the concrete bench. Another quip about fairy overlords being so 300 years ago danced on the tip of his tongue when a strange static filled the air in the cell and, with a few flickering spasms of light, there was Josh.

Oh.

With haste he hadn't felt since returning to his body, he rushed forward, slotting the key into place and turning it, opening the gate and tugging Margo out by the wrist just as he heard Josh's worried, quiet voice echo.

Margo, wherever you are.

"Time for our grand exit," Eliot said, raising his voice to drown out whatever came next. He pretended not to feel the way Margo's shoulders shuddered under his arms as he led them out and hurried them away from the castle.

They were settled somewhere in the Darkling Woods by the time the suns started to set. Margo started a fire with her fingers in record time and with impressively explosive results. Eliot tried not to think of what allowed that power. Eliot tried not to think of a lot of things. He stood from the log he was perched on and walked away from the roaring flames, turning to face the darkness of the wilds around him. He reached into his pocket and broke off a piece of mushroom, and quickly popped it into his mouth.

Eliot didn't want to take away Margo's chance at happiness, not really. But she was all he had, now. He'd seen the pain on her face in that cell. Seen the toll it had taken on her. And here he was, cursing her for it. Cursing the fact that she'd been visited by the trauma ghost of about-to-be-beheaded Josh because it was something. It was more than he would ever see.

"At least you get that," he wanted to say.

He wanted to scream it, to shout until his throat was raw about how she had real memories, from this timeline. About how she had the opportunity to make the right choice, and she did. About how he would give anything including the pathetic, bourbon-washed excuse for a life he was drowning in now, to be visited by the ghost of Q. But that wasn't the kind of thing you got when the man you loved didn't just die - he was obliterated.

All Eliot had was a memory of cowardice. A flash of what he prayed was hope in a short-lived freedom. And something he wished he could forget.

It was right after he'd returned to his body. Right after cooperative magic and Margo's insane desert axes saved his life and almost ended it. Margo was the sweetest thing he could have hoped to see in that moment. Her saving him, it was the image he was clinging to for however long he was trapped inside his own mind. She was everything, everything, everything. His Bambi had saved him. What he hadn't dared to hope for, though, that surprised him. His eyes shifted, just past Margo's shoulder, and there he was. Right there. Almost within reach, if he had any abdominal muscles left to speak of.

Fierce, determined, inimitable Q. Tutting like the world depended on it. Tutting like it was the last thing he would ever do. Both were true, as it turned out.

Eliot remembered looking, staring, drinking in the sight of him. It was equal parts heartbreaking and life-affirming. The kind of feeling that started somewhere beneath the giant gash in his stomach and grew, glowing and brilliant, until he felt like it was pouring out of every piece of him. The kind of thing he assumed all the Renaissance writers were on about all those years.

Peaches and plums. Let's try again.

It was there, stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. He was sure it would burst out of him if only Quentin would look over at him.

But he never did. Whatever ancient, unstoppable essence the monster was made of after the axe slashed through him filtered into the bottle and Quentin capped it, grabbed it, lightning-fast. His jaw was set. He hiked the strap of the bottle over his shoulder. Penny popped in. Quentin nodded. The muscle just below his temple flexed, restrained. So much restraint. Then they were gone and the vignette of Eliot's vision faded to black. When he woke up, Q was gone.

Hopeless.

He didn't want to tell Margo that this was hopeless. After everything she'd done to save him. After everything she was still doing to try and bring him back from yet another brink. She deserved to know he wasn't giving up. But hopeless was the only thing he felt. It was a hungry, vicious void inside of him that refused to be sated. It wanted only to consume everything inside of him, everything around him, until he existed in a black hole that felt as insistently, pervasively empty as the hopelessness itself. Empty, he thought, might be better.

He returned to the fire, ignoring the flickering against Margo's sorrow-lined face and how familiar it looked. Ignored the phantom fuzz of a fucking stone fruit in his fingertips as he sat down beside her.

"I'm not giving up," Margo said, resolute.

When they were first years, there was a night, basked in the warmth of red wine and before apocalypse was their baseline state of existence, when Margo looked up at him, her head in his lap, and smiled. Eliot had asked what dirty things she was dreaming up, and Margo had laughed, a softer laugh than he'd ever heard out of his sharp-edged Bambi. "I think I need you," she'd said. At the time, he'd grinned back and waved a hand in the air for vague emphasis. "Of course you do. I'm fucking fabulous," he'd quipped back. But he'd never understood why she said that. Margo fought for what she wanted. He was fairly certain he'd never been resolute about anything other than ascots and alcohol. Eliot needed Margo far more than Margo needed Eliot, from where he stood.

"I know," he said finally, shoving away the memory as the crackling of the fire reminded him they weren’t in the Physical Kids’ Cottage. They weren’t lying on the floor in a too-damp forest. They were here, now, in a reality he was ready to forget.

His muscles were starting to loosen up, his thoughts slipping through the spaces in his mind that the mushrooms created. He was moments away from losing himself in the sway of the fire or the rustle of the leaves on the trees just beyond it. He needed the escape, needed to feel fine again. But he could give Margo something before he slipped into sweet, sweet oblivion. He wanted to. Needed to. Hopelessness wouldn't stop tugging at his ankles, grasping at his wrists and beckoning him into its dark embrace. But if he couldn't fulfill his promise the way he had intended, maybe he could get somewhere close. If Margo needed him, maybe he could, for once, let himself be needed.

Be braver.

"We'll find a way," he said. Margo slid her hand over to cover one of his, and maybe it was the mushrooms slowly leeching away his pain and replacing it with a technicolor version of the wind and the sky, but there was something about the way she squeezed his fingers that said he'd finally done something right.

It wasn't enough, but it could be enough for now.

#the magicians #tv: the magicians #eliot waugh ff #eliot waugh fanfiction #the magicians fanfiction #the magicians ff #eliot waugh #margo hanson #fillory #s5 #5x01 #the magicians 5x01

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wolfpawn · 4 years

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Life is a Game of Risks, Chapter 45

Chapter Summary - Tom notices something is off in Lily and goes into Daddy mode

TRIGGERS - Past domestic abuse, Past emotional abuse, Past sexual abuse.

Previous Chapter

Tags: @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @theoneanna

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Tom swallowed and thought over Alexianna's words. Every so often, he thought she was only placating him with the notion that he was assisting her to raise Lily but her words at that moment told him how much he mattered to their family, even if the context of how it came to happen was not a pleasant situation.

'What are we going to do for our little girl?’

If there was any doubt of Tom's ability as a father, it would be obliterated immediately after the chain of events that led to Alexianna asking that question as it was Tom that first noted the change in Lily's demeanour. He noted it for the first time after they returned to school after Easter. The Monday evening, she seemed unimpressed, the Tuesday her spark was quelled some bit, by Friday morning, she was quiet and seemed to have lost her joie de vivre. It was then Alexianna looked at her daughter worriedly but Tom had sensed it sooner. They tried to ascertain what it was but she said nothing. Her midterm had gone well, she spent time in the park and was even stolen by Diana and Emma for a few hours, so they thought for a moment that it was that school was not as fun as that, but that would only explain her lack of liking for school, Tom had noticed that the little girl that loved to draw her pictures and sing and dance in her home was replaced by a child who sat still and just seemed lost.

Tom was due in a meeting and was not supposed to be part of the school run that day but with her current behaviour, he sent a message to those involved and decided to assist Alexianna with the run.

Usually Lily would be ecstatic to have both drop her to school but that day, she seemed on the verge of tears. When they got to the front gate, she gave her mother and hug and then gave one to Tom. Against his shoulder, she seemed to stifle a sniffle. Normally, when Lily would act in such a manner, it was simply juvenile complaining but he felt this was different. 'What's going on, Princess?’

'Please Daddy, please let me go home.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Shawn is here.’ She pointed to a little boy nearby.

Tom looked at the boy in question. He was screaming and hitting his mother. 'What about him?’

'He hits everyone and screams, it is really horrible.’

'What does your teacher say?’

'To not be mean to him, he is just new but it's not fair because he is mean to all of us and all he is told is that it's okay.’

Tom clenched his jaw at the idea of his little girl feeling as though there was an inequality in her class. 'When did this start?’

'He started on Monday and he is not nice.’

'Well, do you want us to speak with Miss about it?’ Alexianna asked, having heard most of what her daughter said. Lily nodded silently causing Tom and Alexianna to straighten up and walk to the front door of the school where the teacher was waiting. 'Hi, can we speak to you for a moment?’ Alexianna smiled politely.

'I'm sorry, I really need to help one of the other students.’ She apologised before looking behind them and rushing to help the struggling mother ship her son into the school.

Lily stood in against Tom as he went by, grabbing him tightly. Tom instinctively wrapped his arm around his little Princess to show her he was there for her, that he would protect her.

The teacher said nothing to them as she went in, placating Shawn as she did so, the boy only lashing out more as she and another teacher took him from his mother who walked off and had her phone in her hand laughing as soon as she was through the gate, not even an apology for knocking into Alexianna as she did so.

The pair looked at the woman before looking at one another then down at Lily. Alexianna knelt in front of her daughter. 'Lily, you have as much right as any to be in school and no one has the right to make you feel like you cannot be happy in school. You like your school and you love being happy, don't let anyone take that from you, and if someone hits you once, tell a teacher, if they hit you twice…’

'Hit them harder.’ Lily beamed.

For a moment, Alexianna had contemplated correcting her daughter before she nodded. 'You have the right to defend yourself.’ She stated. Tom looked at her. 'You are no one's punching bag and so long as you tried telling an adult and if it persists, you Lily Diana Hughes, have consent from me to defend yourself however you feel necessary. Do you hear me?’

'Yes, mommy.’ She looked at Tom who nodded in agreement. 'Daddy?’

‘Yes, Princess?’

'You need to go.’

‘I’ll go when you're in school.’ He smiled.

'You need to stop upsetting Luke.'

Tom frowned. 'What…?’

'You're always late and it upsets Luke, so stop talking and go. I love you.’

'We love you too, now in you get.’ Tom urged.

With her demeanour a little brighter once more, Lily went in the door. It was at that moment the teacher came out looking frustrated. 'Lily, go to class now, you are going to be tardy and that is not nice for everyone else to disrupt them, go.’ Immediately, the brightness sunk again and Alexianna and Tom knew it. They watched angered and saddened as the teacher rolled her eyes and ushered Lily in briskly.

Tom brought her away from the school door. 'I think there needs to be a meeting with the teacher.’ He stated.

'If not the headmaster.’ Alexianna added.

As it stood, Alexianna didn't need to make a call to anyone at the school, the call was made to her. Nothing much was said, only that if she was available for a meeting at nine am the following Tuesday, to be there, that there was an issue with Lily. It took rearranging bit she was able to get the morning off work.

Tom learnt of an issue when he turned up to the school to see the teacher looking at him unimpressed with a statement that the school had been in touch with “the child's mother” and that was it. He took Lily and said no more to the teacher before bringing her to the car. 'Lil's, tell me what happened, Princess.’ Lily's facade broke. The tears started and she cried. Tom knelt down and held her to him. He cuddled her and kissed her forehead. 'Lil's, talk to me, tell Daddy everything.’

'Shawn was mean to me and I told him to leave me alone and he wouldn't and I told him I was going to tell Miss and then he hit me and I went to tell her and he pulled my hair and it really hurt Daddy, he even broke my hair tie, and I started to cry and he hitted me again and kicked me and I remembered what Mommy said so I hit him back and he told the teacher and I got in trouble and I told her he did it to me first and showed her my leg and my hair and she said that I was wrong to hit him and I said Mommy said I was allowed protect me and she got angry.’ Lily sobbed.

Tom felt his heart broke, the way Lily grabbed onto him, the way she held herself into him and the sheer anguish in her voice crippled him. It was all he could do for several minutes to hold onto her and console her as his anger grew. 'It's okay Princess, Mommy and I will deal with this, I promise. You did nothing wrong and we are not going to punish you for it.’

'Promise?’

'Lily, defending yourself is never a bad thing. You have every right to do so.’

'Do you do it?’

'I did it, with us and the mean lady, the one that said I could not be your Daddy, remember?’

'Did you hit her?’

'No, I didn't hit her, but she did not hit me either, she just said bad things. There's a difference. You cannot hit a person unless they have or they are going to hit you.’

Alexianna listened to what her daughter told her of the day. It took several deep breaths for her to calm after everything, especially seeing the dark bruising on her daughter's leg as a result of everything. She too told her daughter not to fret, that she was not in trouble, that she was proud of her and that she was so loved and that would never change.

For the first time that week, Lily went to bed somewhat happy. She knew her parents were on her side and their love and affection allowed her to feel it could be fixed. Down in the living area, however, Alexianna's question resonated with Tom; one because she was genuinely seeking his opinion and two because of how she asked.

#Life is a Game of Risks #chapter 46 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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onepunchmiss · 5 years

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OPM s2 e9 Live Blog

“The Troubles of the Strong”

GOSH DANG 2 HOUR COMMUTES FROM WORK I woke up at 4am just to get to work early specifically so I could leave early I could watch this episode sooner because THIS IS THE EPISODE IVE BEEN WAITING FOR FOREVER OK Ive just been vibrating at my desk all day fluctuating somewhere between ‘awerstdyfcvgbjhkn’ and ‘SADFVYNTBGVRFCE’ IM NOT mentally or emotionally prepared so WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY IMMA WATCHHHH

as always I’m watching from the perspective of someone who is up to date on the Web comic and Manga

“I know that head” *Immediatley cuts to opening theme* I SCREAM i wasnt expecting that nor am I prepared to see Zombieman not even the same 2 pictures of him that ive seen all season help my stomach is in knots and i cannot

asdfghjkl I can tell already this live blog is gonna be SOOOOO BIAS just cause IM WAITING for THE THING annd the rest is great and all but I CANT FOCUS ON ANYTHING Im really not gonna do the episode over all justice im sorry sdfghjk

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I CALLED IT IT WAS SONIC THE DOODLE WAS SONIC i was holding my breath cause I knew there was a VERY SLIM CHANCE it would be Z but i felt it in my gut It would be sonic uhg phew ok not dead yet

lol Bakuzan stopping mid boast and just screaming dude you should’ve known then and there to quit oh my god the music is SO excessive right now I’m very distracted it better be part of the gag… or not ok

Saitama just casually explaining stuff I love him so much sweetheart,,, pft “I was bored”, honestly I just appreciate how anime captures the beats every time Saitama delivers a line like that, we expect it but it never fails to make me cackle. Also, “that kind of strength should be illegal” he says to SAITAMA yeah ok

OH!!!! GENOS BB stop getting obliterated please Dr. Kuseno is old what are you going to do when you can’t rely on him for repairs and EYYY Shout out to Atomic, Tatumaki, Flash, and King for the cameos. Genos, are you really underestimating your Sensei like that?? Are you the real genos?????

OH MY GOD DID THEY JUST GIVE SUIRYU A SAITAMA FACE WHAT IS THIS CURSED IMAGE

ok in all seriousness Suiryu’s voice actor is killin it like I legit feel bad for they guy getting dragged by Saitama, U hav my respect Suiryu I still might not like you all that much but damn u makin me feel that character development

THIS IS SUCH A CUTE FACE

guys I love saitama so much be still my heart it hurts ;-; this scene chouldne be as heart warming as it is right now hhhhhhhhhhh

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH PRISONER PRISONER FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFSDGFSDGS I FORGOT U WERE GONNA SHOW UP I HAVE AN ODD LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR CHARACTER BUT GD ARE YOU ENTERTAINING AS HELL HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYOU BIG HAPPY IDIOT IM SCREAMING IM SO CONCERNED OH MY GOD THEY SHOWED THE BUTT RINGING I FEEL SO CONFLICTED AM I EXCITED?? SCARED?? PROBABLY BOTH

ok ok ok ok ok ok ok so now that the tournament is officially over I know theres still a lot to cover this ep before Z???? BUT my bloodpressure WILL NOT CALM DOWN cause WHAT IF they do thingS OUT of ORDER IM ON HIGH ALERT HIGH ALERT WHAT IF I DIE

OH HI KING HELP IM HAVING ANXIETY YOU KNOW HOW THAT BE RIGHT MY DUDE aw omg how are they both so cute looking right now??? WAIT also that was a smooth transition from Saitama Face™ to serious face woah ?? You know, with all that talk I wonder what the end game is for Saitama? Like, will the series end seriously or on a joke? He gonna find a real challenge or will it somehow be another one-punch? I am completely undecided tbh…

...i wanted king to finish saying “daze” so badly right thereu said yare yare plz give me the meme plz Ok the way Saitama keeps saying ‘Kinggu’ is weirding me out also ng is great and this is very nicely drawn

...plussireaditinamanga… PFFFTTT the VOICE ACTING-- King is such a good friend for Saitama really thank goodness for him ASDFGHJKL THE WHOLE REST OF THE EXCHANGE IS SO GOOD ‘OK JERKOFF’ im d y i n g

I MISSED YOU PLZ COME BACK TO THE REGULARLY SCHEDULED BEING A LIL SHIT PLZ UR BEAUTIFUL also the king movements on the bike looked pretty neato

OK Honestly though why does no one know what the Hero Hunter is supposed to look like?? How is that not common knowledge among heroes by now?????

SCREECHING IM SCREECHING THE SECOND MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THIS EPISODE (i hope???? its running kinda late and I’m worried???????) THE NINJAS THE NINJA DUO ITS THEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM theyre so pretty i cri ????

OK MONSTER WIND LOOKS REALLY COOL I DIG I DIGGGG also I REALY dig the ominous music and as this scene is nearing its end MY HEART IS POUNDING HELP

MARSHALL GORILLA IM HYPERVENTILATING AND SCREAMING AND MY PALMS ARE SWEATING ARM SPAGHETTI HELP MY EYES ARE WATERING TOO

my hands are shaking as im typing and i cant stop laughing nervously and my through is dry this is NOT NORMAL typing is hard im afraid to push play im afraid

its been 5 minutes i cant push play i cant

I MADE A MISTAKE THEY DIDNT SHOW THE OTHER HEROES FIRST HES ON MY SCREEN I CANT STOP MY LEGS SHAKING I BREATHE

tfw ive been just mumbling oh my god oh my god nope nope nope for 10 minutes help help help nope

hes on my screen but i cant push play i cant open the tab i cant

everything is so much easier if i didnt FEEL but I have FEELINGS \

I cant even look at him i cant hes too perfect help

30 minutes i can breathe but like shaking ???? ???

ok it only took 45 minutes alright ok ok ok open the tab and PUSH the BUTTON

I lied it took an hour i still cant look at the screen im gonna die this man will be the death of me I CANT GO 2 SECONDS WITHOUT PAUSING AND SCREAMING WHY CAN I REREAD THE CHAPTER OVER AND OVER BUT CANT LISTEN TO HIM FOR 2 SECONDS WHY

OK im gonna start counting how many times I’ve paused from now on its been AT LEAST 8 so lets start there.

11 long pause his voice im crying his face

13 just look at him I cant my stomach

14 “DRAT” help me

15 i keep switching tabs but cant push play again oh no

18 I just noticed he definitely has eyebrows here asdfghjkl

NO COME BACK TORTURE ME SOME MORE WITH YOUR PERFECT GENERAL PRESENCE that was the most exhausting 1.5 hours asdfghjkl what if they dont make a season 3 what if I never see him in motion again what if i just die

OH MY GOD DRIVE KNIGHT MY MYSTERIOUS SON THANK YOU I CAN BREATHE DISTRACT ME PLZ

WAIT

DESTROCHLORIDIUM I CANT HANDLE THIS EPISODE I JUST REALLY CANT I JUST AND THE HEKKIN CAPTION HE GOT A BAD CASE OF THE RUNS AND OMFG MY FAVORITE GAROU MOMENT FROM THE MANGA THUS FAR NEXT WEEK I !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i… no recap this week. i think my feelings on the ep are obvious. Thanks for reading and somehow managing to get this far? I appreciate yall so much really. Thank you for following me being nuts as I am. I seriously mean it. I’ll see yall next week with the next with the next episode!

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psqqa · 5 years

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makeste replied to your post “i can’t say i came out of bnha with a whole lot of Shipping Thoughts,...”

I would read all of these but especially 2 and 3 and especially especially 5 omg. or a version of number 8 where Shouto interrupts their usual 30 minutes of silence and good vibes by asking Momo for advice about his love life because of number 5. and he asks her because he knows she's in a polyamorous relationship with Jirou and Kaminari, which happened due to the band AU, and something something but I'm sure there's a way to fit the rest of it in there too lol

ok omg yes we can do this. hmmm ok so it’s eri’s.........13th birthday??? i have no idea how old she’s supposed to be in canon. but let’s say that in seven years or so she’ll be turning 13. (oh okay the wiki tells me she’s 6 so bang fucking on fuck yeah!! wow that’s a first.)

anyway, it’s eri’s 13th birthday and because it’s eri’s 13th birthday it has to be The Greatest 13th Birthday Party In The World because mirio’s baby girl is a teenager now and that needs celebratin!!!!

and THAT means Getting The Band Back Together because that was an Important Moment in the development of eri’s happiness and safety and joy and she’ll need that energy going into adolescence.

it also means asking aizawa to cater because like he’s a chef or something in his spare time right? ‘you should ask literally anyone else’ says aizawa, ‘that is not the kind of cooking i do. it is in fact virtually the antithesis of the cooking i do.’ but eri gives him her Big Doe Eye Look Of Awe all ‘you can cook and you’ll make food for me???’ so now he has to do it. it’s perfectly rational ok.

(hmm ok this turned into a whole thing, so let’s throw that under a cut)

so that’s happening and casa momokamijirou is now band practice central. which means some Domestic Fucking OT3 Shenanigans. progress on this is discussed during the weekly breakfast and todoroki offers to be part of the tech crew again. he also recently worked a case with inasa. which is a thing that keeps happening every few months somehow despite being on opposite ends of the country, and he’s like ‘yo you know airbending would make for some cool effects. i’ll see if i can rope him in somehow. it shouldn’t be hard, he does like kids.’

inasa is successfully roped in. tech crew planning occurs. ‘wow inasa sure is enthusiastic about this’ todoroki thinks to himself one day while he eats cold soba in his office at 4 pm because villains have no respect for reasonable lunch hours. there is some more contemplation on inasa’s enthusiasm around children and also todoroki and then his brain makes on small step for mankind but one giant leap for todoroki and goes ‘wait.’ he spends roughly the next 20 minutes blinking rapidly at the framed silver age all might poster he’s got hanging on his office wall because he can be a bit of a petty bitch like that. there is a further amount of blinking that happens over the next 48 hours.

halfway through his next breakfast with momo he puts down his natto and says ‘kaminari is a bit of a flirt, right?’ which prompts some blinking from momo as well. she puts down her natto as well.

‘i suppose?’ she says. ‘i would characterize it more as spirited affability, though.’

todoroki considers this briefly and nods. that is a fair assessment. ‘how did you know that the.....spirited affability aimed at you was different from the spirited affability aimed at the rest of the world?’

momo blinks at him again. ‘he told me.’ she says. ‘and kyouka.’ she smiles. ‘he knows us quite well, after all. he knew we needed the help.’

todoroki returns her smile because he is happy for her happiness but then he frowns because that doesn’t exactly help him.

‘........has someone been aiming.......spirited affability at you as well?’ momo asks, catching on.

todoroki nods. ‘i came to the realization a few days ago that over the course of our acquaintance yoarashi inasa has been......particularly spirited in his affability towards me. i’m struggling to figure out what that means.’

momo smiles. ‘what would you like it to mean?’

todoroki frowns more deeply. ‘i’m not sure,’ he admits, ‘but i suppose the amount of thought i’ve put towards means i would like it to mean something.’

momo nods. ‘perhaps you should ask, then. in my experience direct communication is crucial to the success of any relationship.’

todoroki nods and smiles. ‘perhaps i shall.’ he says.

‘would you like me to ask denki for his thoughts?’ momo asks. ‘he is admittedly better at this than i am.’

todoroki considers this. ‘i think i would prefer to ask him myself, if i decide i need the help, if that’s alright.’

'of course,’ momo says and they go back to their natto and their silence and their good vibes.

bakugou attends therapy. bakugou attends a yoga session. bakugou takes up jazz drumming. bakugou calls his mom. bakugou buys a birthday present for eri. each step of the way he thinks to himself ‘time to show these assholes how it’s motherfucking DONE!!’ then he thinks on the 45 minutes his therapist spent explaining the trap of external validation like he was some kind of idiot who hadn’t read up on this shit before starting therapy. he’s a model fucking therapy patient. he’s rocking this shit. he considers that again. he acknowledges briefly that she may have had some kind of point. bakugou goes to band practice and fucking obliterates each and every count in. John Bonham fucking wishes he could count off as good as bakugou does.

momo comes home for another band practice to find that kaminari, who is not my self-insert but who is in this moment embodying my spirit, has locked bakugou in the quirk-killing space momo has been experimentally building, and has been playing Learnalilgivinanlovin at him on repeat for the past few hours. ‘yeah he’s like a million times better than he was when we first met, but he was just telling me about how he’s going to win the yoga session his therapist suggested he go to, so like, i think he could do with some reinforcement of the concept.’

‘todoroki may come to you for advice at some point soon,’ momo says. ‘if he does be nice. if he doesn’t, don’t push it.’

kaminari grins that big grin of his. ‘you know me, yaomomo, i’m always nice!’

momo says nothing.

kaminari’s grin falters. ‘aren’t i? momo? momo, i’m nice person! momo!!’

momo smiles. ‘you are. that’s what i love about you.’ and leaves him blushing in her wake.

jirou, on the other hand, is holed up with tokoyami in her Music Room, introducing him to the Great Hits of early 2000s goth rock. tokoyami looks pretty rapturous as some guy dissolves into feathers on screen. he asks her for the tabs. she hands them over as if she had been expecting this. momo’s sure she had. it’s what she loves about her. she leaves them to it.

the birthday party happens. aizawa looks like he’s aged about 15 years but the food is delivered and it is delicious. eri shyly asks him if he’ll do her hair once more ‘for old time’s sake’. he smiles and those 15 years return to him. eri’s hair looks great.

the band comes out. eri is surprised and thrilled. she asks if she can sit on mirio’s shoulders again like she did the first time. mirio looks like he’s about to vibrate into the sun with joy and says yes, of course.

the band is a hit. everyone dances, including toshinori, who is dragged into some kind of jive by ashido and he rocks it. and then has to immediately sit down for 20 minutes. but it’s good, it’s fine, he’s happy. eri’s happy. mirio’s happy. midoriya fucking cries into his plate of birthday cake he’s so happy.

todoroki drags inasa off to the side at some point to ask him about the thing. momo was correct, of course, and he resolves to tell her this at their next breakfast he thinks as he too smiles happily and dances (awkwardly. with inasa. it’s great.)

it’s a friday night, but crime never sleeps, so a number of them have to get home to sleep so they can work in the morning. the rest remain to help clean up because ‘that’s what heroes do!!’ and as mirio picks up garbage, he looks over to where eri and kirishima are sorting things into recyclable and non-recyclable trash, laughing together at whatever story kirishima is telling, and mirio’s done it, he’s a professional hero, he saves people every day, but this right here is the most heroic he’s ever felt.

#makeste #bnha #The Ficening

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gayregis · 5 years

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issues with blood & wine

cdpr litcherally took away all the development that vampires got in the book series, despite blood & wine adding more vampire lore, and ill explain how

retcons & just weird differences from canon

blood & wine paints vampires as this big evil secret society and civilization whereas in the books they literally do not have more society than “a bunch of frat guys and sorority girls getting wasted every full moon”

the vampire lore they added with mentions and/or demonstrations of human cattle, bloodthirst as a form of torture, the hierarchy with unseen elders, drinking blood being seen as something much darker and sinister all together instead of a vice of vampires like alcoholism is a vice to humanity, and the whole dumbass retcon about the conjunction of the spheres.

the views on blooddrinking introduced in blood & wine lead to annoyingly misplaced dialogue with geralt and regis like geralt mentioning vampires “treating humans like cattle to slaughter” which, they dont, and which geralt learned in baptism of fire, then remarking disapprovingly that humans are more like an open bar then. this dialogue makes no sense even because that’s NOT how vampires in the witcher function

regis’s torture in la cage au fou is just basically torture porn and is pretty unnecessary. but it’s also overdone because it’s not like regis has been sober for centuries, he broke his sobriety at stygga and therefore has only been sober for 8 years, which... he spent dead. so the temptation of relapse would already be an issue for him, which should have provided enough tension and angst for all of us. the scene in la cage au fou also depicts such a visceral pain of bloodlust and doesn’t show WHY it’s such a widespread temptation and vice for vampires... which imo would be more powerful as both a plot point and statement

side note: not vampire related but geralt and regis literally dont talk about the hansa at all and it annoys me because regis seems depressed for No Specific Reason besides dettlaff’s situation when we know that he and geralt experienced great loss at stygga and are struggling to cope with that

side side note: considering regis broke his sobriety at stygga and could be struggling with thoughts of relapse already, knowing that he’s depressed about the loss of milva angouleme and cahir could provide for some more angst and tension :/

the vampire claws are ugly and not lore-friendly. why not just give them short claws on their hands. when regis and other vampires fight in the books, they barely use their claws anyways. they turn invisible, turn into bats, scream, etc.

the smoke/fog effect annoys me because there’s no mention of that in the books, only of them turning invisible. and you can SEE smoke/fog so tell me what is the point

the op-ness of vampires bothers me because vampires were already op in the books and making them moreso just is annoying because it’s unbalanced. i guess this is partially due to an issue in the books where sapkowski never explained how a vampire could truly be killed, but my interpretation is that sapkowski intended to portray regis as “truly killed” at the end of the series, just obliterated beyond his regenerative ability within the near centuries... i mean it took him half a century to grow back a head, how long would it take him to regenerate his entire body? forever, which is pretty akin to ‘death.’ there wasn’t a need to add social rules about vampires killing vampires because... vampires could ‘die’. but cdpr introduced dettlaff regrowing his hand within like, 3 days, and that was that. i don’t disagree with some of the regenerative things depicted, like regis regenerating after dettlaff spears him lol, that was pretty cool and reminiscent of the battle of the bridge where he regenerated from an arrow piercing in about 2 minutes. but for things more severe than flesh wounds........ i can’t support that because it’s too unrealistic given the canon from the books

i like dettlaff’s monster form, i really do, but seeing as how the books say that vampires turn into BATS............................. i guess it is said that all vampires are unique and have different powers, but come on, what is that, that is not even bat-like, or MAYBE do something with the MOTH aesthetic he was given?? he should have had like, locust powers or something cool, come on....

speaking of animal affinities, this is really nitpicky at this point lol, but regis’s corvids not being shown as birds of omen or some dark motif and instead as just General Helpers......... when they attack stygga in lady of the lake, the birds crowd the fort and circle around it, causing the guards outside to all stir and worry about what ill fate is to befall them. it’s intended to be super creepy and worrying. iirc when regis was around corvids also tended to perch in the trees, sort of ominously signaling that he was around... in blood & wine they’re good boys and i love them, but they’re not entirely creepy enough. think of how regis’s gwent card depicts the corvids as an example of a step in the right direction. what im saying basically is less doctor doolittle and more the birds, please.

honorable mention is regis’s hairline and facial hair. baptism of fire described him as looking middle-aged, so he should look around 45. that is all

the conjunction retcons introduced are just confusing and annoying. regis remarks about the vampires’ “home” wistfully multiple times throughout blood & wine, AS IF he actually saw it at one point. our boy’s like, 400 something years old (436, but who’s counting), so he was born in the 800s (bc the witcher saga and games take place in 1260 something). he’s fucking young compared to someone like the unseen elder, or even for example, AVALLAC’H, who’s older than him by like 2 centuries. the conjunction of the spheres occurred 1500 YEARS BEFORE THE SAGA & GAMES TAKE PLACE, in 200s BCE which is MORE THAN 3 TIMES REGIS’S AGE. so it makes no sense for regis to be talking about the vampires’ homeland before the conjunction because (if regis is considered middle aged by vampire standards) he’s like, 3rd or 4th-generation vampire.

depiction of vampires

i will say that orianna and blood simple was a good move because it shows how vampires’ addictions can manifest in ways other than raiding villages as youth... though i would have liked to see orianna shown as middle aged looking like regis is i’ll let that slide because i know cdpr can’t show a woman who is supposed to come off as attractive looking more than 30 years old

but the strictness of vampire society imposed in blood & wine, through the no killing vampires laws, tesham mutna’s whole hierarchy and structure, is inaccurate in my opinion because in the books the whole THING about the vampires is that while they’re highly intelligent and emotional, they don’t really form social structure beyond drinking parties, which i think was both a nice step away from classic “stuffy manor vampire” types and something unique for the witcher universe...

my biggest issue, though, is with dettlaff and his characterization throughout blood & wine, or should i say, lack of consistent characterization. half of the “good things” dettlaff does isn’t even shown (i.e., resurrecting regis) and is rather explained through word, so the effect on the player isn’t as big. his actual caring and protectiveness of rhenawedd/syanna is overshadowed by syanna’s huge arc about her own backstory so there’s like, NO empathy built up for dettlaff. you actually get to talk to syanna about her opinions and takes, but as for dettlaff you’re relying on regis’s secondhand guessing about his brother’s emotions. regis is also somewhat of an unreliable narrator because it’s not like he can predict everything that will happen... as much as it seems it, sometimes

but the whole point of the books dealing with vampires (and more specifically, regis) was to show that sometimes monsters are more reliable and morally upright than humans. im not saying every vampire in the witcher series should be shown as a paragon of morality, because that’s definitely not the case. but i think for a player who has just met regis, just learned about the vampires in the witcher universe, they need more context and more depictions of Good Vampires, or at least, Vampires That Employ Logic, in order to accept that vampires are NOT some savage beasts like anna and damien argue.

it also doesn’t help with... how regis is depicted. regis is always shown in his humanoid form when he’s proper and kind and geralt is friendly with him, and when he’s in a more bestial form during la cage au fou and tesham mutna, he’s shown as like, a danger [[to geralt]], which is such a slap in the face when you consider how regis and geralt fought side by side at stygga. to even think that regis is somehow untrustworthy tbh literally goes against everything in the books -- in the saga, regis is depicted as yes, a very powerful being, but one that has deep intelligence, emotions, and alliances to geralt and the hansa... when he uses his powers and fights in the saga, it was not only rare, but only ever for Good, to save ciri and yennefer. and he was completely in control of himself and his powers... even when drunk at stygga. not to mention regis was even a self-described ‘coward’ and felt it necessary to avoid battle and conflict because he disliked it so. so when in blood & wine, regis fights during capture the castle like it’s nothing, that’s so alien to his character, idk how to even describe it. he just brushes it off like “looked like you needed a hand, we thought we’d stop by” instead of like, whoa. this is a big sacrifice he’s making by putting himself into this conflict, because he loathes violence. of course there’s also the issue with la cage au fou where regis is shown as Bestially Untrustworthy because he Can’t Control His Powers but those issues have already been discussed.........

also it’s tiring how it’s lazily attempted to explain that vampires aren’t just horrific thirsty beasts of the night and then toussaint is sacked by vampires like a week later. the showing was more impactful than the telling here

back to dettlaff’s inconsistent characterization, it’s annoying how he doesn’t get a chance to explain his thoughts and worries and grievances like syanna does, but also it’s annoying how he’s shown as such a caring person for those he loves (asking syanna if shes okay, feeling guilty that he couldnt rescue her sooner, regretting not being there for her...) but then when he’s betrayed he immediately goes to “sack the city until i can murder this bitch” which is like...... okay, i get it, scorpio vibes, but it doesn’t really make sense without some kind of dialogue between dettlaff and geralt. the player would have to stop and really mull this logic over (it does make sense, but you have to think about it... dettlaff would want to murder syanna because she had him murder those close to him anyways, and dettlaff didn’t know (and never finds out, actually) that the knights were bad people deserving of death anyways). i feel like if dettlaff knew the reality about the knights, then he wouldn’t want to murder syanna....... he would be mad that she didnt communicate with him in the first place, but at least he wouldnt be assuming that he murdered innocents. from dettlaff’s perspective, syanna is a killer who killed some of his best friends, but as the player, we never get to even interact with him or his feelings about the subject. instead we’re faced with an unnecessary dichotomy between the two of them which ends in tears and bloodshed either way, and it’s unsatisfying.

#thoughts #tw3 #bw #regis #dettlaff #omfg big fucking rant goodbye lol #i spent like an hour writing this all out o h my god

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