#I’m not even ten minutes into this episode and I’m on the floor dying | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itzynabi · 5 months

Text

eve & hyo’s one step vacation episode 4

released: 15 nov 2023

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mention of food, slight spoilers for the dragon prince (season 4)

an: now that i’m done with exams, i can finally work on updating this series. words in bold are english feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

eve’s masterlist // eve & hyo’s one step vacation

“Should we go home now?” Eve asked as she started the car.

“Yeah. I’m tired now. Shopping is a lot of work.” Hyoyeon stared out of the window absentmindedly. “Let’s go home!” She cheered.

“Let’s go home!”

They began to drive in silence until Hyoyeon sighed. “Why did that make me so tired?”

“We were there for almost an hour. Even though we agreed on ten minutes, it took us way longer.”

“True.” Hyoyeon gasped. “Did we get drinks?” The two women were silent as they thought. “Oh, we got beer.”

“Ahjumma, you scared me. I thought you were dying. That’s how you’re supposed to gasp when you’re dying.”

“Who said so? Who made that rule?”

“Me.” Eve said. “I made that rule.”

“Who are you to make such rules?” Hyoyeon asked, speaking in Joseon dialect.

“I’m the king,” Eve answered, also speaking in Joseon dialect. They both chuckled at their silly antics. “Unnie, do you know how to cook?” She asked.

Hyoyeon nodded in thought. “Um, I have the ability for sure.”

Eve blinked as she looked ahead. “I feel like you didn’t answer my question.”

“I did.”

“I don’t think you did. You answered what you thought was my question.”

“It used to be a question mark but now it’s a full stop.”

“No, that’s not true.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you tonight. I’ll make dinner,” she vowed.

“Really?”

Hyoyeon hummed. “I’ll show you that I’m basically a female Baek Jongwon.”

“Are you allowed to lie so boldly?”

“It’s not lying, it’s just a bit of a hyperbole.”

“Okay, okay.”

They kept driving until they reached their house, taking their groceries inside. They packed all of the groceries away, putting everything in the pantry or the fridge.

Hyoyeon clapped. “Okay, leave. I need to become a chef now,” she told Eve.

Eve nodded. “Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” she said, walking out of the kitchen into the living room. Since the house had an open floor plan, there were no walls separating the kitchen from the dining room or living room, meaning Eve would be able to see into the kitchen.

“Uh uh. Go upstairs.”

Eve stared at Hyoyeon in shock. “Unnie, are you serious?”

“Upstairs! I can’t have you stealing my secret recipe.”

Eve hesitated for a second. “Okay. I’ll watch TV upstairs.” She walked to the staircase on the right of the room, going up and disappearing behind the wall within seconds.

Hyoyeon sighed after she heard the TV in the pyjama lounge turn on. “What do I do?” She wondered to herself. “I don’t know how to cook. What am I going to do? Kim Hyoyeon, why do you talk so comfortably?” She thought for a moment, sucking on her teeth in short intervals. “What should I make? What should I make?” She clicked her fingers, nodding confidently. “I got it.”

She walked to the pantry, taking a big packet out, the camera not showing it fully. Placing the packet on the counter, she opened up the cupboards, trying to find a pot. Once successful, she smirked to herself. “Nabi thinks I don’t know how to cook, but I’m about to show her how professional I am at cooking.” She got out a few other ingredients from the fridge, also taking out a chopping board. Nodding when she had everything out, she immediately got started on cooking.

“The only problem with this dish is that different people like to eat it differently. I don’t know how Nabi likes it so she’ll have to eat it the way I like it.” She chuckled at her humour as she started carefully chopping up a scallion. “I shouldn’t use too much. I’ll use about… half of it.” She chopped the vegetable up, making sure not to use all of it. She then moved onto tearing seaweed.

“You’re supposed to prepare your ingredients before you cook so that they’re ready. That’s the secret,” she told the viewers. She suddenly went silent for a second as she thought. “Hello, I’m Hyoyeon and you’re watching Hyoyeon’s Cooking Program. Today, I’m making a special recipe. I’m sure you’re very excited to find out what it is, but I’ll keep it a secret for a little while longer.”

She laughed. “It’s like her show. What’s it called? Nabi’s So Evie? Whatever it’s called.” She finished tearing the seaweed, having stopped earlier so she could pretend she was on a cooking show. “Now, I’m going to start cooking. I need water.” She filled the pot she had chosen halfway with water before opening three packets of her mystery food. She added it to the pot, putting it on the stove on low heat.

“I wonder what Hyoyeon ahjumma is cooking,” Eve said as she switched on the TV. She put on an episode of The Dragon Prince as she waited for Hyoyeon to finish cooking. “I don’t think unnie can cook. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in a kitchen.” She stopped speaking as the theme song ended and the episode started, focusing intently on the screen. “Please show Picture lots of love,” she suddenly said. “It’s unnie’s comeback, so please support it.”

Hyoyeon added the scallion and seaweed to the pot. “Now I just have to wait for it to boil,” she said, putting the lid on. “Cooking is very boring. Now I just stand here and wait.” She picked up her phone, playing a mobile game as she waited for the water to boil.

“I love Rayla,” Eve commented, her eyes focused on the TV screen. “She’s such a girlboss!”

Hyoyeon looked up from her phone, hearing the show playing upstairs. “What is she watching? It sounds like English. Knowing Nabi, it’s probably a cartoon.” She noticed that the water in the pot was boiling and exclaimed lightly. “It’s time to dish out.”

Hyoyeon opened a bunch of the cupboards, looking for bowls to put their food in. Exclaiming once she found them, she put the food in the dishes before calling Eve downstairs.

“I’m so excited!” Eve announced as she walked down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen, where Hyoyeon was smiling as she held the two bowls in her hands before bursting into laughter.

“Your gourmet, Baek Jongwon level masterclass meal is ramyeon?”

“Yah! My ramyeon is amazing,” Hyoyeon argued. “I’m sure Baek Jongwon would ask me for my recipe.”

Eve hit the table as she kept laughing. “Okay, okay.” She took the bowl from Hyoyeon. “Thank you for this exquisite meal, chef-nim.”

They walked to the couch in the sitting room, eating their dinner there. Eve widened her eyes in shock when she took her first bite of the ramyeon.

“This is good!” She exclaimed. “Why is it good?”

Hyoyeon scoffed, chewing a mouthful of the noodles. “I told you that I’m Baek Jongwon. I’m a pro at this.”

The two women continued eating their food. When they were done, they both agreed that they were still hungry, so they had some bread with jam for Hyoyeon and bread with chocolate spread.

“Unnie, I’ll wash the dishes,” Eve volunteered, taking her and Hyoyeon’s plates to the sink. “Go sleep.”

Hyoyeon nodded. “I’ll go watch TV upstairs. If I fall asleep there, just drag me to my room,” she joked, standing up from the couch.

Eve playfully scrunched her face as Hyoyeon walked up the stairs. She got to washing the dishes. There weren’t that many, so she finished pretty quickly and went upstairs. She found Hyoyeon watching a drama on the couch and decided to join her.

“Are you good at cooking?” Hyoyeon suddenly asked.

Eve frowned as she thought. “More than being good at cooking, I’m good at following the recipe.”

“Ah! So you just read the recipe?”

“Yes. Because I like to try a lot of new meals, so I mostly just follow the recipe.”

“I’m looking forward to your cooking,” Hyoyeon teased, bowing her head with a smile.

As they continued watching the drama, Eve began to doze off. Hyoyeon, who began to notice, chuckled softly.

“Go sleep,” she told the younger girl.

“I’m not sleeping,” she denied, though the pout on her lips betrayed her. “I’m wide awake.”

Hyoyeon scoffed. “Your eyes aren’t even open, right now.”

Eve was quiet as she fought to stay awake. “I don’t want to leave you alone here.”

“Am I going to die if you go sleep?” Hyoyeon asked. “Just go. Before I have to drag you out.”

Eve stood up groggily, making her way to her room. “Goodnight, unnie. I love you.”

“Likewise,” Hyoyeon responded, watching Eve close her door. She turned back to the screen with a sigh. “She’s so stubborn,” she complained. “If somebody ever broke into her house, I’m sure she’d force them to get out.” She tsked three times, shaking her head. “I wonder how her manager deals with her.”

In Eve’s room, she got ready for bed. She went to the bathroom to change into her pyjamas, emerging shortly. She switched the overhead light off and got into bed, snuggling under the covers. Within thirty seconds, she suddenly got back up.

“I need to do that message thing,” she mumbled sleepily, marching to her study desk. She wrote down a message to Hyoyeon as instructed before returning to bed. When she made herself comfortable in bed, she reached over to her bedside table for her phone so she could set an alarm to wake up to watch the sunrise.

“Goodnight, everyone,” she mumbled when she was done, and went to sleep.

Hyoyeon continued to watch her show until the episode ended, deciding to go to sleep. She went to her room, going through her nighttime routine before going to her study desk to write a message for Eve. After that, she went to bed.

“See you tomorrow,” she whispered.

The scenery of the plot of land was shown, the sounds of the birds chirping quietly filling the air. Eve’s phone alarm suddenly broke the peace, the opening notes of Everybody by SHINee playing.

Eve groaned as the song continued playing. By the time Taemin started singing the first verse, she had managed to push herself so that she was in the seal position. “Darn me and my love for nature,” she grunted in annoyance. She turned around, pushing herself against the headboard before turning off the alarm.

Since she had five minutes before the sun was supposed to rise, she stumbled her way to the bathroom to splash water on her face. “What is wrong with me?” She asked, slapping her face repeatedly to wake herself up quicker.

Opening the curtains, her face broke into a soft smile as she saw the beginning of the sunrise. The sky was beginning to be coated in a light pink, the sun not yet visible. Eve fetched her phone from the bedside table before retreating to her desk — it was placed just under the window. She took photos as the sun rose into the sky, in awe for all fifty minutes it took.

“So pretty,” she commented, scrolling through all of the photos she took. “I’m hungry.” She sniffled as she stood up. She stood still, a frown on her face as she had an internal debate with herself before walking downstairs — not before checking if Hyoyeon was asleep, which she was.

Once she made her way into the kitchen, she stood behind the island. “What should I make? What should I make?” She blew raspberries as she thought. “Pancakes.”

Putting her phone aside, Eve got busy with making breakfast for her and Hyoyeon. She took out all of the necessary ingredients, deciding to add chocolate chips as well. She eyeballed all of the ingredients — since she made pancakes often, she already knew the necessary measurements.

Within a few minutes, she had made three pancakes already, still having some more batter left over. She quickly finished making the rest, making twelve in total.

Putting four on a plate, she took the syrup with her as she went to the living room. She returned to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water and fetch her phone. “Let me continue The Dragon Prince,” she commented, turning the TV on. There was a Netflix account for guests connected to the TV already, so she just searched for The Dragon Prince on the app, making sure to start where she left off. After making sure the volume wasn’t too loud to disturb Hyoyeon, she began watching the episode.

Eve stood up to fetch a fork and knife from the kitchen then quickly returned to her position on the couch. She put syrup on her pancakes, paying immense attention to the screen in front of her. “Let’s go lesbians,” she cheered when Janai and Anya were talking at the campsite. Eve ate her breakfast as she continued watching the series, going to fetch herself another pancake.

As she pressed play on the second last episode of season four, she took a sip of her water. “I feel like such an iPad kid,” she commented, her eyes shifting across the screen as she took in everything that was happening. “This dragon needs to chill,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “So they used magic to make Zym look like a dog, you are too old to be throwing tantrums like this. You fought his dad ages ago!” She paused, watching as Rex Igneous continued to complain. “Actually, as someone who has never forgotten a single bad thing anybody has ever done to me, I should not be talking.”

She continued watching the episode, making useless commentary throughout. When it ended, she paused the TV, going to the kitchen to wash her dishes. After that, she grabbed her phone and went to her room, going to shower. When she was done, she went back downstairs.

“Time to look at the garden,” she said.

tagging: @seolboba // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea // @smh-anon // @alixnsuperstxr // @cosmicwintr // @girlzwfun // @txt-yaomi // @moongrlz

©️ kim nabi

#ficnetfairy #itzy 6th member #itzy sixth member #itzy added member #itzy addition #itzy member au #itzy extra member #itzy imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop au #kpop imagines

10 notes · View notes

hahahahahangst · 1 year

Text

FU In my head (Be The Young 18)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

MASTERLIST

FU in my head

Sorry for acting this strange, I can’t control myself [...] If I’m honest, it’s more fun when you can’t read my mind

When she opened her eyes, it was because of insistent knocking. She was on the motel floor, Dean passed out on the other side of the room. The knocking continued as Emily stood up and started walking towards Dean. She lightly kicked his body and he also started to come back to his senses. Groaning, Emily walked towards the door and opened it.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It’s past your checkout.” The words didn’t register, a big headache hitting her.

“What?” She asked.

“It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here that needs your room.” Emily looked at the ‘couple’, which consisted of a very embarrassed businessman and a girl who was clearly a hooker.

“Sure, uh- can you give us ten minutes?”

“I’m gonna have to charge you extra, you know.”

“Of course, ten minutes. We’ll be out.” Emily closed the door and went back to trying to get Dean off the floor.

“Wake up, sleepy head, we need to go.” She tapped him with her foot again.

“Uh?”

“We need to go!” She repeated. “What the hell happened, Dean?”

Dean, groggy, sat up. “I think Sam knocked me out.” He said.

“Alright, we can mourn your ego another time, the manager is out there, let’s go!” Emily opened the tap water and washed her face, trying to fully get back to a normal state.

Ten minutes later they walked to a nearby diner. Emily handed Dean her laptop as she ate a stack of pancakes which they had planned on sharing. Dean talked with the phone company and soon, they had the location of Sam’s phone. By the time Dean had closed the call, there were no more pancakes. “Dude.” He said. “Where are my pancakes?”

Emily smiled mischievously and pointed to her belly. “Remind me to never share food with you anymore. You ready? Let’s go.” He took his jacket and they left. “Can I ask you something?” He said, entering the car.

“Sure.”

“What did you mean when you said Sam was ‘blocking you out’?”

“You know our weird, psychic powers? Well, sometimes we like- feel each other's emotions. It's weird, it happened back in Portland when he got attacked and- it looks like it only happens when they are strong emotions. And all those things Sam said… he wasn't feeling any of them.”

“So he was either blocking you out or lying.”

“Right.” Emily closed the door and Dean started the engine. “Dean, do you think Sam really went dark side or is there something else going on?”

“I don't know, kid. But whatever it is, it ain't good.” He exhaled.

“Alright, we- where are we going exactly?”

“Remember Jo?”

“No, not really.”

“Ah, wait- I think you never met her. Well, she's a friend.” Emily looked at Dean pronouncing the word friend and raised her eyebrows.

“Is she a cute friend?”

Dean got briefly distracted from the street to look at Emily, confirming her suspect.

“Don't even think about it.”

“I'm not thinking anything.” She giggled. Dean dismissed her and kept driving.

“I think he's in there.” Said Dean a couple of hours later pointing to a bar on the side of a lake.

“Dean, wait.” She stopped him from exiting the car. “Please, tell me what you think we're going against.”

“Well, I was thinking and- I think he might be possessed. I'll try to spray him with holy water, keep him in your sight and get ready to stop him if he tries to run, okay?”

“Kinda.”

“What do you mean, kinda?”

“When you say stop him you mean shoot him, right?”

“If it comes down to that, yes.”

“Dean-”

“You don't have to kill him, just slow him down. Can you do it?” Emily didn't answer, she just limited herself to staring in front of her. “Emily, we don't have time for this, can you do it or not?!”

“I'll try.” She sighed, loading her gun. They approached the building and Dean didn't hesitate to kick down the door. Emily entered quickly after, gun ready. The second they entered the room, Sam grabbed something from a nearby pillar and turned around Jo. The object, which Emily quickly realized being a knife, swiftly landed very close to Jo's throat.

“I begged you to stop me, Dean!” Said Sam, desperation painting his face.

“Sam, just put the knife down.” Said Emily, walking at Dean’s side. He slowly approached Sam, reaching for something in his inside pocket.

“I told you I can't fight it!” Said Sam. “My head feels like it's on fire, all right?!”

“Sam, it really doesn't. I would know.” Intervened Emily. Dean glared at her, worried.

“What do you know about my feelings?!” Said Sam, pressing the knife harder on Jo's skin. “Who are you to tell me what's going on in here?!” He pointed at his head with his gun, not letting go of Jo. Dean stood where he was. “Kill me, Dean, or I’m gonna kill her.” He pointed back at Jo. “Please, you’d be doing me a favor!”

“We’re not gonna kill you, Sam.” Said Emily, stern. She had walked very close to Sam and Jo. So close that Sam seemed very restless. She touched her back pocket, making sure she still had the holy water.

“Of course you won’t! You don’t have the guts. But Dean does!”

Slightly offended, Emily tried to keep in mind that Sam wasn’t talking, the demon was. She looked at Dean. He exhaled deeply, trying to maintain the calm.

“What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? I thought you trained her, didn’t you?” Dean and Emily exchanged a look.

Was that the “time to shoot him“ look? Or was it just a look? Emily tried to decipher Dean’s expression but all she could see was stress.

“Sam, have I ever told you about the time I almost killed Dean?” Sam looked at her, confused. “It went more or less like this.” If Dean’s expression wasn’t very telling, she had to go on instinct alone. With a leap, she put herself between her and Jo and grabbed the wrist he was holding the knife with, pushing him away from his victim. Then, she quickly sprayed him with holy water. With a painful scream, he freed himself from her hold and looked up. As his eyes painted black, he started running and jumped out of a window. Dean hesitated for a second to look at Jo and Emily, but the latter was quick to gesture to him to go after Sam. He disappeared through the same window.

The first thing Emily did was take off Jo’s gag. “Are you okay?” She asked, undoing the rest of the knots who were keeping her trapped.

“I think I'll be okay. Was he possessed?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah. Name’s Emily, by the way.” She set her free. Massaging her wrists, Jo groaned in pain.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Emily took a better look at Jo and coincidentally, a mild stomach pain got her. Jo nodded.

“You good?” She asked.

“What?” Emily caught herself staring at the girl in front of her. “Sure, uh- Let’s go find Dean.”

They went out the door and tried to reach the piers where Sam and Dean seemed to have run to. Jo tried to call Dean’s phone. “It's just going straight to voicemail.”

“Damnit- DEAN!” Yelled Emily. “I swear to god-” She whispered. “If he’s dead I’ll bring him back just to slap him once more.” Jo’s expression quickly went from serious to amused, but just for a second. Then, she called him again.

The faint sound of rock music reached Emily’s ears. She stopped walking and also stopped Jo, grabbing her shoulder. She signaled to not make any noise. After focusing on the sound, she sprinted towards a ramp that was going right into the water. At the end, completely drenched, was Dean. Emily tapped him with her foot just like she had done that same morning on the motel floor. “Dean!” She called. The man groaned, in pain, and sat back up. “What the fuck happened to you?!” She asked, removing some leaves from his hair he had picked up from the water.

“Where's Sam?” He asked. “I don't know, he hasn’t come back for us. Dean, what happened?”

“He shot me.”

“He shot you?”

“Am I speaking chinese?”

“Alright, we can go after him later, let’s patch you up.” Dean refused the help Emily was trying to give him and tried to stand up by himself. She and Jo watched him fail. “You gonna let me help you, or…“

“Shut the fuck up.” He groaned. Emily rolled her eyes, looking at Jo, and she answered with an empathetic smile. The mild stomach pain arrived again.

Maybe it wasn’t stomach pain, maybe it was butterflies. Not having the time to really think about what was happening in her stomach, Emily forced Dean up the floor and Jo helped her walk him inside the bar.

Back inside, Dean sat down and Emily started working to get the bullet out of him. Jo helped her by passing her tools and by scolding Dean when he complained too much.

“Stop being a baby!” Said Emily, about half way done. “And stay still.”

Jo passed Emily a long pair of forceps after dunking them inside some whiskey. “Thanks.” She smiled. Dean scowled at her.

Emily held her breath and slowly entered Dean’s shoulder, trying to get a grip of the bullet.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this!” He said, flinching for the pain. Emily slowly backed out of his flesh, no bullet in sight.

“I literally have one inch of metal in your shoulder. Do you really think this is a good time to move? Or make any sound? Good doesn’t mean painless.”

“Shut up and drink.” Jo passed Dean a glass of whiskey, which he drank immediately.

“Count to ten, I’ll be in and out, okay?” Said Emily, putting a leg on Dean’s lap to keep him from moving. “Are you ready?” He reluctantly nodded. As promised, Emily entered his shoulder, grabbed the bullet and extracted it. The second it was out, she dropped it into a glass of alcohol. Dean exhaled.

“Fuck, that hurt.”

“If you keep complaining, next time I’ll do it with my bare fingers.” She started covering the wound.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Asked Jo. Emily nodded, smiling.

“Sure.”

“I know demons lie, but ... do they ever tell the truth too?”

Emily looked at Dean, who had nothing for her but pain and disappointment. “I guess. Especially if they know it’ll mess with you. Why?” Emily stole Dean’s glass and took a swig of whiskey. She offered some to Jo. She refused.

“Nothing. Doesn't matter.” She answered. “So do you have any idea where Sam's headed to next?”

“Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter, so…“ Said Dean. After trailing off, he looked at Emily. She finished patching up and released his leg, computing what he was trying to communicate. When she did, she jumped out of her chair.

“Oh my god!” She said. “He’s going after Bobby!”

Dean also stood up and grabbed his jacket. Jo did the same, but Dean stopped her.

“You're not coming.” He said, as if it was an obvious fact, pointing at Jo. Emily scrunched her nose in disappointment.

Why was she disappointed?

She put her jacket on.

“The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now.” Complained Jo.

“I can't say it more plain than this.” Said Dean, adjusting his shirt. “You try to follow me and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is my fight. I'm not getting your blood on my hands.” He quickly left the building and Emily followed her, at the very last moment, she turned around.

“See you later, okay?” She waved at Jo. She smiled back.

She jogged after Dean, catching up with him and getting into the car.

“What was that?!” He asked, turning on the engine.

“What?” Emily put on her seatbelt, cluelessly looking at him.

“Thanks Jo, see you later, Jo“ He mocked.

“I’m sorry…?” She said, even more confused than before. “Dean, what are you talking about?!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be this kind to anybody.”

”...and?”

“What, you like Jo or something?” Emily shook her head and ignored his question. “Oh my god, you do!”

“I don’t- shut up and drive!” She answered, nervous. “And even if I did… What are you, jealous or something?”

Dean gazed at her, nervous as well. “I- shut up and- and be a passenger!”

Emily shook her head and went back to focusing on where they were headed to. She still didn’t really have time to process what was going on. Sam was possessed and he was going around killing hunters. She had been awake for almost twenty four hours, not able to catch an actual break. Dean had been shot and she was barely holding on to her last bits of calm. All she could do was hope Bobby would handle Sam until they got her.

4 notes · View notes

bottombaron · 3 years

Text

spoilers for what if...?

some quick thoughts on the first Marvel What If...? episode that are almost all Bucky related big surprise:

i froth at the mouth at any small moment of pre-ws!Bucky like a stranded survivor of a shipwreck. yes pls all of it, i need more. my desire to know who traumatized characters were pre-trauma is like an un-quenchable thirst.

that being said, i'm loving the idea the Bucky was just...a big fucking himbo. a nerdy silly himbo. there's nothing more satisfying than a super pretty competent person wowing you with some big time dork energy.

his lines were so groan worthy which is why i loved them. looking back it's a pretty obvious choice to make Bucky Barnes pre-Winter Soldier just Bucky Barnes from the comic books. he tells bad jokes, he's a damsel in distress, he's there for a reaction shot or two, and best of all he's got the worst one-liners.

my kingdom for Bucky of today going back to his bad one liners, honestly i would pay marvel to have Bucky throw a knife in someone's face, blood is everywhere, and he just goes, "knife to meet you." (Sam is floored. he goes through the 5 stages of grief in ten seconds and ends up laughing so hard his lungs hurt. redwing has it recorded and sam revisits it when he needs to)

the part where Steve gets back into the Hydra Smasher and falls on his face is peak stevebucky tho. Bucky is unconcerned, makes light of it, and there's even some light teasing. i have to highlight this for the purpose of Bucky's characterization in fanfic in terms of how he treats Steve, especially pre-serum Steve: he doesn't baby him. he doesn't mother-hen or overprotect Steve. he knows Steve is tough, he's spent years picking him up off of alleyway pavements, he's not going to act like a helicopter mom.

which i really appreciate because i'm tired of the treatment of Bucky as not also being a reckless kid in this war. Steve and Bucky don't have the dynamic of the Reasonable Adult and their Troublesome Kid i've seen sometimes in fic. they're both hooligans. Bucky comes off as the more cautious one sure, but it's just slightly. and that very slight difference gets overblown sometimes which feels disingenuous to a character that's in his 20s (like do you know bros in their 20s,,,do you?? they're still trying to run up walls and do backflips. they still think they're invincible. 20 year old men are the stupidest people on the planet. and i can say that as a man almost 30) and, by all accounts, ran mayhem in Brooklyn right next to his best friend.

just. don't forget Bucky Barnes is a young stupid pretty himbo okay?

speaking of disingenuous characterizations: what was that hetero bullshit with Peggy being more distraught over Steve's 'death' than Bucky????

are.you.kidding.me.

i feel this righteous anger burning over this, which i'm sure will come to a bigger rant at some point but really? fucking really?

this is it. this is what straight people do. this is the straight agenda.

this isn't even just about Steve and Bucky they do this kind of bullshit all the time in media: character 1 has a long-lasting deep friendship with character 2. character 1 has a romantic subplot with character 3. character 1 and 3 barely know each other. character 1 dies and character 3 is somehow more distraught about this than character 2.

i fully expected Bucky to start trying to climb down the mountain to find Steve but nope!

he's just 'oh nooo~ he ded. whelp lets go hoes'

while the woman who knew Steve for maybe a few months is doing the Darth Vader 'noooo' moment

this does not make any character, story, or emotional logical sense. there's no fucking reason for this bullshit than blatant homophobia.

like fucking fine, lets not see Steve and Bucky interact in any way because I WONDER WHY

but even better

lets have Bucky not really emote over Steve's death, because a. that's gay, we don't want people to think we write gay characters (don't worry marvel we don't) so two men can't care or mourn for each other onscreen. and b. we've got our hetero romance to sell

Peggy Carter is a professional military woman. with experience.

Bucky Barnes is some kid from Brooklyn whose been fighting in a war he's been drafted in for maybe some handful of months.

but sure. yeah. his childhood best friend dying. he's the one whose going to have the professional cool head in this moment.

and it's the PROFESSIONAL MILITARY WOMAN whose going to forget her job and training and need to be pulled from grieving BY THE MAN WHO'S BEST FRIEND JUST 'DIED'

SURE JAN SURE

it's the homophobia that betrays the logic of the characters that really fucks me up y'know?

if you're betraying the honest emotional reactions of story and character because you're afraid of those things being perceived as gay: you're homophobic.

it's really that simple.

'i'm in. for Steve' lol. like god. i'm as tired as seb sounds i swear

and i know Sebastian '~the truth of the character~' Stan probably felt like his teeth were being pulled out with hot pliers reading these. how many times did the voice director have to say, 'ok. can we try it like you're not slowly decaying from the inside, hunny?'

barely any howling commandos and none of them had any lines other than Dum Dum. ok. yeah. ok.

so some high notes:

return of my favorite Stark: 1940's Howard!

i would die twenty times just to be able to see more of Dominic Cooper's Howard Stark. he's just the fucking best. earnest and cute and a bit of a mad scientist and i fucking adore him

i need the Howard Stark + Bucky Barnes sitcom now. pls and thank you.

i'll even take 5 minute vinaigrettes of the antics they'd be up to. two playboy nerds together is just a magical event, don't waste it! i can't believe i've been sleeping on this dynamic it's too good.

"BARNES STOLE A CAR"

i will be replaying this single moment for years. the serotonin it gives me.

stark is just. the most excited man ever to have seen someone hotwire a car??? how did this scene go i need to knoooooowwww

all frustrations aside, it was really cool to see Peggy Carter as Captain Britain. she's a great character and i love her so much. every moment she was legit thrashing n*zis with her big butch arms was thrilling and satisfying.

that truck shield flip is still doing things to me...

honestly upset that the sword Peggy was wielding wasn't a Zemo easter egg like i was hoping it was 😩

#marvel what if #what if...?#what if...? spoilers #stucky #mcu #bucky barnes #stevebucky

136 notes · View notes

ob-kirkseyeliner-1 · 2 years

Text

Thoughts as I rewatch Threshold for the Holiday

-Probably funniest start in all of Trek when B’Eleanna goes “You’re Dead” to Tom just sitting there on the floor. Not even looking particularly crashed or anything

-Not sure how i feel about B’Eleanna having to go fetch Biscuits while Neelix wants to learn about the Warp 10 stuff. At least she gives the order to let Neelix learn, so it starts a weird short pattern in this episode of weird sexist things getting slightly redeemed (if that) to seem less bad

-Harry’s calling Warp 10 transwarp but that was mentioned in Star Trek 3. Did Scotty make Warp 10 impossible when he screwed with the Excelsior so the Enterprise could escape? More likely that Excelsior engineers failed but it’s funnier to blame Scotty

-TOM PARIS PAJAMAS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

“This is MY Flight” reminding me of “YOUR new Empire?!”

“Tom Paris is gonna do something important when he grows up” [Cuz his dads an admiral] this is legit compelling. “This is the first time I’ve felt I HAD a life to risk” also really good making me sympathize for him.

-Chakotay seems weirdly solemn/bittersweet when Tom comes back. Headcanoning it’s cuz Warp 10 means he and Maquis are arrested

-Love that sigh Janeway gives after “WAKE UP LIEUTENANT” oh her children

”Well, I’m glad you had a good time” Another funny line from the Doctor, clever since he can’t go anywhere at this time.

-So cute/found family that Tom came back because Voy was looking for him

-ALSO WAIT HE SAW EARTH WHILE HE WAS IN WARP 10. WHAT DID HE SEE. WHAT UPDATES COULD HE GIVE THE CREW. THIS COULD EASILY BE ITS OWN TEN MINUTES OF THE EPISODE HOLY SHIT

“Before I hand him back to the realm of ordinary humans” Why’d they make the Doctor so funny in this episode specifically I’m not complaining but lol

“It could change the very nature of our existence” Ngl kinda wish the episode had focused on that more but in a not lizard way

“He’s allergic to water” If this is supposed to be step 1 of the evolution then maybe I’m a water purist but how the fuck does that benefit? I guess not needing sustenance in Space but then the lizards go to a planet so what the fuck

“Torres doesn’t cry” Thomas Eugene Paris how would you know that. Headcanon is he and Harry cried all the time while working on the Warp 10 and B’Eleanna didn’t shed a tear

“I don’t trust people who don’t cry” Legit interesting mental health thing for Trek imo

“My father, he’d say crying is a sign of weakness. I never believed that.” I like what the writers were going for here but I kinda don’t like that idea in utopian Earth but I’m just gonna go with interpretation of this one specific guy believing crying weak and honestly it’s not like anything else in the episode says the no emotion patriarchy is still active

“What I remember most about being a kid was the time I’d spend in my room crying. It was a nice room though” Fitting in TOS maybe but oh god whyyyyyy noooooo I get his father’s an asshole but I don’t want that for Tom

“I’ll note [where/when you lost your virginity] in your medical file” and “PEPPERONI. GOD I COULD GO FOR A PEPPERONI PIZZA WITH KTARIAN OLIVES RIGHT NOW I’M STAARRVING” come right after Paris’ spiel about being depressed AF as a child

-His (temporary) dying wish is that his dad knows he finally did something great

-I know Jonas’ scene is supposed to be a continuity thing with the rest of the season (which yes plz for Voyager imo) but it would be interesting if the Kazon attacked Voyager for Warp 10. Probably be stupid but oh well

-Coulda been funny to mention some sort of random alien that would find Paris attractive in one of his transitional lizard states

“Part of you will be glad to see me gone. I’m the Maquis traitor who sits on the bridge and insults your uniform, remember?” Holy shit is that how Tom sees himself

-This line starts out with horrid energy with “You’re jealous I broke the barrier” then ends worryingly for a different reason with “You’re hoping I’ll die!”

“You seem so small/insignificant” followed right up by him taking out his tongue. This episode really just switches moods on a dime

“I am more. I’m everything!” for an objectively good episode they ought to have gone about this angle. Also “the past and present are in the future & the future is in the past” is peak ‘I wanna sound smart by reversing’

-Love how unrecognizable lizard tom looks as theyre about to do the procedure thing

“I look forward to reading it” legit love Tuvok being funny here

“It’s not other’s opinions of myself I should be worried about It’s mine” Kinda like that line I guess

-Actually disgusting how the episode was written with Lizard Tom kidnapping Janeway and off-screen probably raping her to have the babies and then when Kate Mulgrew complained the change is “Maybe the female initiated it” like that’s supposed to make it better?! Frankly implying it’s the woman’s fault and also suggesting it’s okay that Tom was raped instead of her?! What the fuck all around they just shouldn’t have written it that way

Despite some problematic stuff and interesting concepts I wish were in a better episode, Happy Threshold Day, everybody. What a hilarious classic. And surprisingly fascinating insight into Tom Paris as a character

#Threshold Day #Happy Threshold Day #Star Trek Voyager

13 notes · View notes

ships-bynoa · 3 years

Text

The Titans are almost back, bitches. aka 3x06

Guys, literally every time the titans are together-or even paired up-the episode gets ten times better, but in 6 episodes there is simply not enough Kory and Gar. I can easily forget that when I’m basking in the episode they are in, especially when they’re giving us family dynamics.

Kory:

“You’re not mad that I left. You’re mad I came back.” Kory’s face tells us Blackfire is right on the money, and who would know her better than her sister?

So, Kory, oh boy. Our girl is on edge. She is slowly unraveling and is super vulnerable and raw with Kom around and little sister is going to exploit it and her guilt, which I think she’s carrying a lot of. So far their dynamic has been fascinating because there’s so much to read between them and so many accusations being flung back and forth, from both. From Kory; you sense guilt and even contempt and from Kom there’s envy and resentment, but also there’s a sense of idealization for her older sister, too, which of course, with younger siblings, there always is an element of that. And as an older sibling, there is always an unspoken and sometimes spoken responsibility placed on them for their younger siblings. Parents often don’t realize it, but they can create a lot of tension within siblingships by assigning roles.

They remember home and family very differently, which is often the case, too. Kom was often thrown in the pit and to that, Kory attributes her sister’s constant rebellion as the reason, and yet, Kory herself was a bit of a rule breaker, sleeping with her guard, Fiddei.

Kory was being suffocated by the laws and customs of her home planet; one could say she rebelled by going on a mission, to escape her duties. Home did neither of them any favors because while one rebelled because she did not fit in, the one who did fit in was dying inside, surrounded by little robots and becoming one herself. Being told what to eat, wear and who to love or be friends with is yikes.

I was thinking Kom began her game of manipulation in the bunker, but she really started before that when she sent Fiddei to bring Kory home when she probably intended to kill him all along. After all she would’ve castrated him if she’d had the chance to for sleeping with Kory in the first place. Shortly after Fiddei’s death, Kory flamed out. No powers. Emotionally wrung out from the news her family was dead and now the culprit is here. These two know each other very well and know exactly how to get underneath each other’s skin. Right now Kom is getting underneath Kory’s and our girl is losing patience fast.

I’m wondering when exactly Dick will tune into Kory’s anxiety-ridden state and step in to support.

Ultimately, I just want to see what truly happened to the girls on their planet and how we have the versions we have now. Like, Kory said to Rachel, “No one is born good or bad, we are defined by our choices.” I get the feeling Kory has given Kom so many chances to make a different choice and has become disillusioned, meanwhile Kom believes nothing she does will give her the respect she feels she deserves anyway, so she may as well blow shit up, figuratively and literally. At least then she’ll have Kory’s attention.

Gar:

Gar losing it on Dick was so cathartic and yet he could’ve gone much further, considering Dick abandoned him last season to go jail and hallucinate Bruce. It ultimately led to Gar (and Conner) being kidnapped and experimented on by Mercy. It’s actually all the adults fault this happened, but as the leader promoting his family everywhere he goes, he needs to keep his eye on the ball. He would know if he spent five minutes at home with them that Gar is struggling. Last season Gar was #OperationSaveTitans and this season he’s #ThisFamilyIsDying. He’s doing what the adults should be doing, or at least leading the charge on it. He’s the glue, but who will hold him together?

He’s carrying too much emotional responsibility and Dick’s dismissal, because he is fully locked into Gotham and being Batman, makes me mad. Get your head in the game, Grayson. Gotham is going to eat your family while you retread the nostalgic steps of your past.

We all know Dick’s not good at expressing himself emotionally, though he’s usually forced to express something when talking to or being confronted by Kory, so I was proud of him for giving Gar the floor to speak. I just wish Gar spoke about himself, but then again, he needs more time and consistent offers to be heard. I’m happy Dick followed up the conversation up with a bonding/training session. There was definitely pride in Dick’s face because Gar really has come a long way in this group, but he needs MORE SCREEN TIME. I’d like to see the two of them out in the field together the way we’ve seen Kory this season with Gar and Conner.

I wonder if Gar losing control is the start of all his trauma bubbling up to the surface, will being in Gotham, hunting down a friend be too much?

As a side, has the CGI tiger face gotten worse?

Kom (and Conner):

First thing’s first, what music are we thinking Kom listens to? Probably the kind of music she can break your tailbone to, like, Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole and Jay Z, or Prince, Jimmy Hendrix, Stevie Nicks and Led Zeppelin? Rihanna?

Kom is absolutely a villain this season and if she isn’t, what a waste that’ll be. A mastermind at mind games (see, her picking up the chess piece), who is going to drum up Kory’s paranoia and anxiety around her being there. Trying to kill her suspicion by guilt tripping her while simultaneously being a do good-er to the group, feigning interest in helping the Titans to earn her way in, a tip from our boy, Conner.

She says she wants acceptance and I believe that’s absolutely true, but she doesn’t know how to get that without using power, so she’ll continue to covet acceptance through and with power because according to Kory, she’s always been a climber. Add to that, being born the cursed child and the only royal member born without the gift of fire, something that differentiates them from the common folk, being too frail to participate in the same games as Kory, having a speech therapist be her only friend while being the object of ridicule and you have a villain origin story nicely set up.

I really enjoyed Conner and Kom’s exchange. The boy lit up when he spoke about seeing his family happy and it made me light up. He’s so genuine and has a big heart and Kom is going to take advantage of it, that’s not to say she won’t develop real feelings for him, but she can like him and still use him.

Conner’s “you have to earn your way into the family,” is perhaps an internal and personal struggle he has from sharing blood with Luthor. I think it may come from an insecure place because he was made a titan as soon as he woke up and no one questioned it, but as he’s only half of superman, he’s constantly trying to prove his usefulness for good, which losing Hank has rocked, leaving him vulnerable to Kom’s recognition for his otherness. Their otherness.

She gave us insight into her mind, but also she has likely seized an opportunity to use the vulnerability against Conner and to her favor by making him her kindred. Outcasts. Will she gain influence over him? He’s still young and learning, and trusting, too.

Her interest in him felt layered, ignoring the ugly customs of sex servants, she was also observing Kory’s relationships and ranking them in her sister’s life. Her being able to determine who may have Kory’s interest (which Kory gave away with her vulnerable display of worry over Dick’s welfare in front of Kom) will surely come into play at some point, right? After all, Kom did kill Kory’s last lover/royal guard. This may be me projecting. LOL.

Romantically, I’m waiting to see how they play it before I decide if I like it or not, but so far, they have a nice chemistry. Friendly.

Dick (and Barbara) :

What a lovable dumb ass.

I was so happy Kory lost it on him and called him on his lone ranger shit, at least when it’s her, even when he’s being an idiot, he’s still listening. “Let’s go.” and I thought it was hilarious that he tried explaining himself, but when Gar called him out, he got all huffy with, “Excuse me, young man.”

Gar asking Kory not to have words with Barbara over Dick getting shot was so funny because Dick’s face seemed to ask the same when she asked how it happened. We love a protective Kory. I’ll be looking at him when it’s his turn to reciprocate.

I don’t like him dismissing their concerns about his personal safety and how it affects them, it’s like he’s learned nothing after running off alone to battle Trigon, or rather has unlearned his lessons of S2. I’d like to see some more permanent emotional growth from him by this season’s end. In his current state, he’s not an exuding leader. He can’t be when he’s still wrapped up in Bruce and all things Gotham. He’s not tuned into Kory’s anxiety, or Conner’s grief and insecurity, or Gar’s emotional burden.

He’s started making it up to him, but he has much to do in taking Gar’s concerns and emotional needs seriously.

I’m not even going to try and work out the timeline between Barbara and Dick and Dick and old Titans in San Fran and S1. But it doesn’t bode well that Dick’s dream with Barbara ended in a nightmare.

I wish they’d never did the whole Dick and Dawn relationship in S2 because they’re basically repeating some of the beats in showing us how they don’t work as a couple, only his relationship with Babs makes a lot more sense even though I don't care. Dick has unfinished business with that relationship, Bruce and Gotham and I can only hope he’s wrapped it up for good by this season’s end. I want to see relaxed, smiling and happy Dick in THE PRESENT. I still Babs will be the one to notice and point out Dick's feelings for Kory.

Barbara (outside of Dick) is being downplayed a little, no? Dismissing Dick’s suspicions about Jason when he arrived, showing no knowledge of Jason’s visits to Crane and then taking the bait and moving Crane after he got a light beat down. A commissioner who was also a very capable vigilante is tricked by a recording and goes to meet “Bruce” on her own. I really enjoyed that she could hold her own and the fight scene was really good, but it was a bit baffling that she fell for that ruse. So far, she’s not entirely good at her job.

Dick’s a distraction in his own right and her feelings clearly get in the way, which is why she keeps asking him to leave the precinct and Gotham; because she’s pining a fantasy and he’s ruining it. Lastly, I really like the way Savannah plays Barbara.

Why’d they do that to Tim?? :(

Overall, it was a better episode and I enjoyed it more than latter episodes, but they’re not quite there yet for me. I’m still waiting for Team Titans.

#dc titans #kory anders #koriand'r #stafire #gar logan #beast boy #dick grayson #nightwing #conner kent #superboy #noa posts

31 notes · View notes

bellisperennis0 · 3 years

Text

See You Sometime

Word Count: 2,785

Warning: Slight spoiler to Season 1 x Episode 5 (Uch/Opossum), mention of blood and bullet wound.

A/N: This one is on the longer side. As always Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy! ❤️ GIF credit to @seventhdevil

Walking down the long Hospital hall on your way outside for a well needed breather after a long and chaotic morning, you stop when you turn the corner into one of the many lobbies. Outside the double doors you can see Frankie Rogan and Ezekiel Reyes having a very intense conversation.

The talk all over the Hospital floor, when you arrived for your shift, was how Emily Galindo had been admitted early in the morning after an incident in Merchant Square caused her to get injured. You prayed that Ezekiel wasn’t trying to sneak his way in to see Emily, but you knew EZ better than anyone and you knew that was exactly what he was trying to do.

You watched as Frankie and EZ made their way down the corridor, entering the X-Ray Room at the end of the hall. Once they were both out of sight you decided to make your way down to the room. Seeing Frankie walk out shortly after, you called out to him.

“Hay, Rogan!” you called for him as you watched him look around to find who was calling him. When he spotted you at the other end of the hall, he gave you a big smile, making his way towards you.

“Holy Shit!! Never thought I would be seeing that beautiful face of yours around here again.” He says as he approaches you, making you giggle.

“It’s nice to see you, Frankie.” You tell him as you throw your arms around him, taking him into a hug.

“Shit, it’s so good to see you.” He tells you as he hugs you back.

“So, was that Ezekiel you just helped sneak in to see Emily?” you ask him as you step back, crossing your arms across your chest.

“I know [y/n] I told him it was a fucked up idea, he insisted he needed to see her.” He tells you

“Do you know what happened to her?” you asked him. You have heard many stories about what happened, but you knew Frankie was the officer on the call so he would know more of what truly happened to Emily.

“Shit went down at Merchant Square. A nun was beaten to death and placed in the church for all the festival goers to find. Apparently Emily went in during the chaos and ended up getting trampled in the middle of it all. Believe it was retaliation from Los Olvidados.” He tells you and you couldn’t even imagine what Emily was going through.

“Shit! First her son is taken from her and now this. Tough being the wife of a much hated Cartel leader.” You tell him. As much as you never really liked Emily growing up, your heart aches for her and everything that has happened to her these last few weeks.

Just then you hear someone call your name. Looking over to were the voice came from, you find EZ standing in the door way of the X-Ray Room.

“I gotta go, let you two catch up.” Rogan tells you

“Yeah? Okay. It’s really good to see you again, Rogan.” You tell him as you give him a hug goodbye.

“It’s really good to see you again, beautiful.” He tells you as he begins to make his way down the hall.

“Be safe out there.” You yell back at him.

“You know it!” he turns to give you a wink before disappearing behind the double doors.

Taking a deep breath you finally turn your attention back to Ezekiel. Before you can react or say anything, EZ is quickly taking you into a warm embrace.

“Hey, EZ.” You whisper as you hug him back.

“I can’t believe it really is you.” He says as he pulls away slightly, but not completely letting you go.

“It’s really me.” You tell him, giving him a sad smile.

“You look really good [y/n]. It’s really good to see you again.” He tells you, finally releasing you from his embrace.

“Prospect huh. Was that Angel’s doing?” you ask him as you gently tug at his kutte. Disappointment evident in your voice and on your face.

“Only thing I had when I got out, [y/n].” he admits as he stares at his boots.

“I highly doubt that. And sneaking around to see Emily Galindo while El Jefe and his thugs are camped out here. You are smarter than that Ezekiel.” You scolded him. The last thing you wanted to do was to yell at EZ about his decisions, but as his friend, you felt like he needed to know how dumb his decision was.

“I know, I know. Rogan told me the same thing. I just needed to know for myself that she was okay.” He shyly tells you as he grabs the sides of his kutte.

“Look, I really need to get back to work. It was really good seeing you EZ.” You tell him as you take him into another hug.

“I’m glad you are home, Hermosa.” He hugs you back, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you around.” You tell him as you begin to make your way down the hall heading back to your office. EZ standing there watching until you were out of sight, before leaving.

----------

After an exhausting couple of weeks at the hospital, you were beyond ecstatic to have a couple days off to do absolutely nothing. It had been a few weeks since you had made a visit to see Felipe, and you were yearning for some of his fatherly love. After making a quick stop at the coffee shop across the street, you make your way to Felipe’s shop. Walking in you didn’t see him behind the counter, but the second the bell above the door was heard, you heard his voice come from the back room.

“Hay Pop!” you yell back after you hear him say he will be right with you.

It didn’t take long before he appeared from the back room, smile plastered on his face at the sight of you.

“Mija!” he ecstatically says as he takes you into his arms.

“Hay Pop! How are you!?” you ask him as you tightly hug him back

“I’m good sweetheart. How are you?” he asks you as you grumble, taking a sip of your coffee.

“I’m okay. Hospital has been really busy. Which is good but just really exhausting.” You tell him as you take a seat at the table.

“EZ told me he saw you the other day.” He tells you as he takes a seat across from you.

“Did he also tell you he was at the Hospital to see Emily Galindo, with Miguel not too far away.” You tell him rolling your eyes, and he just scoffs.

“I had heard what happened to Emily, so when he said he was at the hospital; I figured that was why he was there.” He says.

“Does Angel know I am back?” you finally blurt out the question you have been dying to know.

“He does. I couldn’t keep that secret from him.” he tells you and you just nod.

You were honestly surprised that Angel had known, but you have yet to see him. You figured as soon as Angel found out you were back he would be kicking down every door in Santo Padre just to see you again.

As you were sitting there chatting with Felipe, your phone began to ring. Looking at the screen there was no name, but the number was one you remembered all too well, Ezekiel’s.

“Hay EZ!” you answered.

“Are you at work, [y/n]?” he asks you.

“No. I’m at the Butcher shop with Pop. Is everything okay Ezekiel?” you can hear the concern in EZ’s voice and a bunch of yelling and chaos in the background.

“I hate to do this, but one of the guys got injured and we can’t get him across the border…” EZ began but you were quick to cut him off.

“Where are you? I’ll come to you!” you tell him, getting up from your seat, Felipe following your lead.

“Clubhouse. Pop can bring you. I really appreciate this, querida.” he tells you

“No problem. I’ll be there shortly.” You tell him before hanging up.

----------

Walking up to the Clubhouse, medical bag in hand and Felipe right behind you, your nerves were running havoc. It wasn’t the fact that there was every possibility that you will be face to face with Angel again, but the simple fact that this place was the reason you had left both Angel and Santo Padre all those years ago.

Once you heard yelling coming from inside the Clubhouse, you pushed all the nerves to the side and quickly went into Doctor mode. Walking into the Clubhouse you take in the chaos before you. Men in kuttes running around like chickens with their heads cut off, blood all over the floor, and one man on the pool table screaming in agony with four others trying their best to calm him.

Quickly making your way to the table you push in-between two of the men and take a look over at the man with a bullet hole in his shoulder. Not taking any notice that Angel was standing just on the other side of the table.

“You the Doc?” the man on top of the pool table with the bullet in his shoulder asks you.

“Yeah, that’s me!” you tell him as you look over his shoulder and then rummaging through your medical bag.

“I’m not going to lie. This is going to fucking suck and hurt like all hell, but I will do my best to be quick. I have nothing to give you for the pain or to numb it so you’re going to have to bear with me.” You tell him with a reassuring smile, as you put on your gloves.

“Just do what you need to.” He tells you and you can tell he relaxed a little at your words.

For the next ten minutes you worked on the man, who you learned was named Creeper. Wiping the beat of sweat from your forehead you look over your work. It wasn’t the best, but under the circumstances it will do.

“Good news, you get to keep your arm. Bad news, you won’t be able to ride for a few weeks.” You tell him as you finish up bandaging his shoulder.

“Thanks doc, you are a godsend.” He tells you

“I’ll take you to the back bathroom so you can clean up.” You hear EZ say from behind you.

Following EZ to the back, your heart skips a beat when you make eye contact with Angel from across the room. You give him a small smile before disappearing down the hall.

As you were cleaning up, you heard the bathroom door open and then close and without looking up you knew exactly who entered the room. The scent of his cologne wafting through the room a dead giveaway. You could feel his gaze on you.

“Querida?” you barely hear him whisper, your heart clenching at the all too familiar name. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath before turning to finally face Angel.

“Angel.” You finally say, placing your hands into your back pockets. Doing your best to keep your emotions at bay.

“For once Pop didn’t lie to me. You really are back.” You can see him go through every emotion.

“It’s really good to see you.” Your voice slightly cracking as you fight back the lump forming in your throat.

“Yeah, you to. You look good.” He tells you.

You both jump slightly when there was a knock on the door and EZ’s voice can be heard from the other side.

“Angel, Bishop needs you in Templo.” You sigh in relief at EZ’s interruption, cutting the tension between you and Angel for a second.

You can see the irritation in Angel’s face, “Go. It’s okay!” you tell him as you turn back to the sink and finish cleaning up. You hear him sigh and then the bathroom door open. Clenching the bathroom sink you take a deep breath, trying your best to fight back the urge to sob. You jump when you felt a hand on your shoulder, looking up you see EZ standing there in the mirror.

“You alright?” he asks you, you just nod.

“I just need to get out of here.” You sniffle as you grab your things.

“Pop will take you back.” He tells you as you both make your way to the main room.

When you walk into the main room, the guys were all piling into Templo, but Bishop stopped when he saw you walking out from the back.

“Thank you again for everything you did. We owe you sweetheart.” He tells you as he gives you a hug.

“It’s nothing. I’ll be by sometime tomorrow to check on him, if that’s okay?” you ask him and he just nods and gives you a smile.

“That would be great. Get home safe.” He says before joining the rest of the guys in Templo, EZ quick to close the glass door behind him.

--------

Arriving at the Clubhouse after you shift at the Hospital, you walked in to find Angel sitting out on the front porch enjoying a beer, a cigarette between his lips.

“Hey, Angel.” You say as you lean against the porch railing.

“Querida. Good to see you again.” He says as he stubs out his cigarette.

“Good to see you to. Just stopped by to check on Creeper.” You tell him as you point towards the Clubhouse door.

“Gilly took him to Vicki’s. Says he can recover better there.” He chuckled.

You furrow your brows, “Oh I bet! Guess he isn’t feeling too bad then.”

“Seemed perfectly fine this morning. You really do have the magic touch, doc.” He gives you a smile.

“I should probably go then. Glad to hear he’s doing okay.” You tell him as you begin to make your way down the porch. Angel quick to his feet, gently grabbing your wrist, stopping you.

“Can we please talk?” he ask you and you can see the sincerity in his face.

You sigh, “Yeah. Okay.” You say as you follow him back to the sofa he was previously sitting on.

“I’m sorry, for everything. All the lies, the secrets, going behind your back, pushing you away. All of it! I hated that you just walked away, but I then realized that all this was on me. I left you no other choice, I forced you to leave and for that I will never forgive myself. I know how much you despised the MC, after everything you dealt with growing up in one, and then here I was joining the MC behind your back and lying about it. I’m forever sorry, Querida.” He laid it all out for you. Wiping the tears from your cheeks, finally looking up at Angel, you can see the unshed tears in his eyes.

“That fight we had that morning Angel, that was the last straw for me. I was pouring everything out to you and you just up and walked out the door. Putting the MC before me, before us. Not to mention we were either avoiding each other or we were constantly arguing. It was no longer a happy, loving relationship.” You tell him as you wipe the tears from your face.

Before he could respond the Clubhouse door opened and a beautiful female came out.

“Angel.” She called for him. He quickly cleared his throat and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Yeah, mi dulce.” You hear him say and your head shoots up at the familiar term of endearment he used to call you. You looked at him and then back at her, and knew right away that there was definitely something between them. Your heart slightly aching at the thought

“We got to go.” She tells him as she makes her way down the porch and towards the black car parked in the yard.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” He calls after her.

“I should really get home.” You say as you get up.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you again for helping out last night.” He tells you as he walks you down the porch towards your car.

“See you around, Reyes.” You tell him as you give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Take care of yourself, Querida.” He gives you a smile as he watched you get into your car.

As you drive off the yard, you watch as Angel and that part of your life disappear in your rear view mirror.

--xx

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #🖤

161 notes · View notes

hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 28

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 5.7k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act four ➻ part three

“Mingi had an episode in the mess hall.”

“Captain–” Seonghwa swivels to call Hongjoong forward, but the captain has already stood up and made his way over to the door. He comes to a halt not far behind Seonghwa, eyes trained on San and no one else. There’s only silence for several moments, and you aren’t sure what to make of it until Hongjoong dares to speak.

“Lieutenant, I want the crew here in less than five minutes.”

“All the crew?” Seonghwa inquires. Hongjoong pauses, inhaling a breath so deep that you can see the way his chest puffs a bit.

“Minus Mingi,” he responds after a breath of hesitation. Seonghwa nods and steps around you, no doubt trying to get to the comms station outside. He pauses next to you though, and you shift to look at him at the same time that he glances down at you. His lips part, and words are on his tongue, yet they are words that never reach your ears because Hongjoong speaks again before he has the chance. “Seonghwa.”

The tone is firm enough to cause Seonghwa to move again, and he leaves your side to escape the room. It leaves you with the bitter taste of curiosity on the back of your tongue, wondering what he intended to say and what was on his mind for the past week and why he couldn’t at least visit you once.

“If it’s what you want, let’s do this once more. And if it’s time that you need, I can be as patient as you need me to be. Whatever it is you want this to be… whatever it is you need me to be… I’ll do it for you.”

Unless his definition of patience somehow became avoidance, you cannot figure out where this sudden change came from or why it’s happening. You have better and more important things to worry about for the time being though. Your woes surrounding Seonghwa will have to wait for another time because Hongjoong is clearing his throat again and look between you and San with expectant eyes. He somehow bears even darker circles than Seonghwa did, but even with the exhaustion on his features, he seems as awake and alert as ever.

“I’ll ask for a deeper explanation once the others are here but…” Hongjoong trails off, voice dying before he can finish the thought.

“Everyone is still in one piece, yes,” San finishes. His presumption must be accurate because Hongjoong fully exhales the breath he’s been holding in since before Seonghwa left.

“Anyone hurt?”

“Wooyoung sliced his hand open, but that was unrelated.” Hongjoong opens his mouth again less than a second later, but San beats him to it once more. “Mingi is okay as well, as is everyone else as far as I’m aware. When they left, that was the case.”

A whooshing sound echoes through the room, and Hongjoong stands up a bit straighter as Seonghwa steps back into the office, looking a bit more somber than before. You twist to watch him enter. He isn’t alone this time either; Jongho is the first to enter behind him, followed by Wooyoung and Yeosang, who has his hand wrapped tight around Wooyoung’s, and finally Yunho walks in with his head dipped to his chest. Seeing him in such a state of disarray is disconcerting, to say the least, and painful nonetheless. You can hardly look away from the blossoming bruises over his neck, ones that are splotchy and red right now.

Hongjoong doesn’t wait for everyone to file in and line up before unleashing his barrage of questions, but his impatience doesn’t surprise you in the slightest.

“What happened? What was the trigger? How long did it take to get under control? Did you have to use force to stop him, or was he able to overcome it on his own?”

No one responds right away. You can’t recall a time when the air has ever been so still and quiet. It would be disconcerting if you did not know the reason behind it, but that much is obvious considering what went down in the mess hall less than two hours ago. Then Wooyoung starts speaking, or at least tries to when –

“I triggered him,” Yunho cuts in, lifting his head for the first time and looking Hongjoong directly in the eye. “I brought up – I mentioned Kebos on accident.” Wooyoung’s eyes grow to an impossible width, and he seems to be half a breath from countering Yunho’s false confession, but yet again, the taller man doesn’t give him a chance. “And I panicked a bit too much without realizing how it would affect him. It trigg – I triggered the episode.”

“You know better, Yunho,” Hongjoong replies, tone barely above a whisper. It holds no contempt or anger; frankly, all you can hear is the interlacing confusion in his words, as though he can’t believe that Yunho of all people would make such a mistake. He wouldn’t be wrong to think so in any case, but it’s still something you don’t understand in the slightest. Yunho swallows around nothing, and his tongue darts out to moisten his thin lips before retreating back into his mouth.

“I messed up.” Yunho drops his eyes to the floor. His shoulders begin to sag bit by bit, and you aren’t even sure he’s doing it intentionally with the pace his body moves at. Jongho takes the chances to divert the subject, stepping forward just enough to draw Hongjoong’s attention off Yunho.

“It didn’t take more than ten minutes to get everything under control. He didn’t have a bad episode. I would say it was a more mild one, but he did hurt Yunho in the process. No force needed to stop him; however, I was able to talk him down and bring him back in one piece.”

Hongjoong releases a deep sigh, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead, then he turns on his heel and moves back towards his desk. Seonghwa is quick to follow; he steps around you and San to draw closer to the captain. His hand ghosts over your back as he goes, and for a moment, you think you imagined the sensation, but Seonghwa confirms its presence when he glances back at you.

“How is Wooyoung’s injury?” Hongjoong inquires after a long bout of silence.

“Recovering. He’ll be fine: more shaken up than anything else. It caught him – all of us off-guard,” Yunho explains. He doesn’t lift his gaze from the floor. The way his shoulders slump forward is a clear sign of his guilt towards the situation, but he opts not to voice any further grievances or explanations. Hongjoong hums in reply before shifting his gaze to Jongho.

“And how is Mingi?”

“Upset. He says I should have used a gun and ended it there. I talked him down from a worse episode than this one though, so… baby steps.”

“Baby steps,” Hongjoong echoes, lips barely moving.

“Progress is progress, Captain,” Jongho speaks up again, tone a bit louder than before. “That’s better than nothing.”

“You’re right… Could’ve afforded faster progress though, but I suppose we don’t have a say in that matter.”

“We should discuss the mission,” Seonghwa whispers when silence envelops the room again. “While everyone is present.”

“Right, yes, the mission. The plan is –” Hongjoong slips around the backside of his desk, motioning down at the mess of papers atop it “–information gathering. That’s all. We’ve been going back and forth on what the plan would be exactly for the past week, and the agreem–conclusion was that it’s best to gather intel where we can and leave.” Hongjoong seems to want to say something more. His gaze flits over to where Seonghwa now stands close to his desk, but he doesn’t add to his thoughts, merely sending a somewhat annoyed stare at the back of his lieutenant’s head.

“We will have a lot more luck if that’s the case,” Seonghwa says without looking back at Hongjoong. “Gathering the intel and leaving the planet before the military can sniff us out, or before something worse happens.” You know Seonghwa is looking to you for some sort of reaction to the mention of the military, but you manage to conceal your expression long enough for his gaze to pass onto someone else.

“I have settled an agreement with Vladimir. We will be meeting in three days to discuss my questions and the information I’m after, and once our conversation comes to a close, he will name his price. The meeting place is at the arena during one of his matches.”

“Isn’t that a bit…?” San cuts it but trails off before he can finish the thought. The hesitation makes sense, as does the confusion about the situation. You can’t imagine Hongjoong would easily agree to such a dangerous agreement. Should Vladimir request something Hongjoong doesn’t want to give, then what? Would he ask for a Siren? Information about them? Maybe he would just ask for you and be done with it because of the bounty on your head. Or perhaps he would opt to take all of you and collect a lifetime’s worth of money. There are too many ‘if’s and ‘maybe’s. The lack of certainties in this plan already is concerning, to say the least.

“We have worked a few things out through our previous chats. Monetary compensation only, and nothing else.” Hongjoong dispels your concerns in an instant with those words, and you find yourself exhaling a breath of relief. San’s eyes dart over to you, concern glistening over his dark orbs before he returns to staring forward. “Seonghwa and Yeosang will be at my side throughout the whole meeting. I will not be allowed to keep an earpiece or a wristband on my being throughout the meeting, but both Seonghwa and Yeosang will have them. Seonghwa will serve as a broadcast for the conversation, and you all will be able to hear every word being said. It is also a failsafe in the event that… and we hope this won’t be an issue, but a failsafe for if things turn south. Understand so far?”

A myriad of nods and murmurs of approval greet Hongjoong, his eyes shifting from person to person until he reaches Seonghwa.

“Good, now — we will also have a right-wing team. Since this meeting is happening inside the arena, we will need teams to move through both wings of the stadium. The right team will consist of Yunho, Wooyoung, and Y/N.” The plans for that haven’t changed in the past week, but the way Seonghwa presses his lips tighter together is more than enough evidence to tell you that it was a lost battle on his part. He isn’t the first to protest the arrangement though – it’s Yeosang who steps forward, arm pulling away from Wooyoung’s as he draws closer to Hongjoong.

“That team doesn’t have a strong enough defense. If something were to happen, they would be at a tactical disadvantage. And you know that I do–”

“Hear the rest of the plan first, Yeosang,” Hongjoong counters. “You’ll understand the logic behind it once I finish.” Yeosang’s lips fall shut, teeth almost clattering together as he snaps them together, and he lets Wooyoung tug his sleeve to pull him back to his original place. “As I was saying, the right-wing team will consist of those three with the main purpose of being scouts. Just meant to be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary, whether that be soldiers, snipers, or generally suspicious things. Now, for the left team, the purpose will be similar but not the same. Jongho, you’ll lead the team. San and Mingi will follow.”

What follows is a jumbled mess of words that makes little sense in your mind, but you manage to pick out a few words here and there.

“Mingi?”

“Hongjoong, that’s–”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Quiet,” Hongjoong orders, lifting one hand above his head just a bit. Silence falls over the room without hesitation, and all the voices die into nothingness as Hongjoong lifts his chin to stare out over his crew. “I am well aware that there are many concerns to take into account in this decision. It is not set in stone yet, and most certainly not something I’m confident in doing knowing that he had an episode not too long ago–”

“Yeah, not too long ago as in less than two hours ago!” Jongho snaps. Hongjoong meets his fiery gaze with one that contains equal heat, barely flinching as the Berserker hurls the words his way.

“You know better than anyone what the risks are, Jongho. As does Yunho. So enlighten us a bit, and explain what those risks are.” Hongjoong clenches his fists against the desk. Jongho doesn’t answer right away; his lips stutter and mouth meaningless words that never reach the air. The captain turns to Yunho next, eyes searching and demanding an answer that still doesn’t come. “If it can be avoided, I would like to know. But leaving Mingi on the ship alone is the last thing I want to do.”

“Then let me stay behind with him,” Yunho insists, but the words hold no confidence or certainty.

“That’s not an option, Yunho. We have to have a right-wing team, and I cannot send Wooyoung and Y/N alone.”

“Scrap the left team and keep me on the ship with Mingi then!” Jongho takes a quick step forward. For a second, his red eyes flash with a barely contained rage, and out the corner of your eye, you see Seonghwa discreetly lower a hand to the holster residing on his right thigh. “San and Y/N can take the left-wing, and Yunho and Wooyoung can take the right.”

“Oh? And leave Yunho and Wooyoung without any defense whatsoever? How is that a good plan, Jongho?” Hongjoong chastises. Jongho seems to at least see the logic in those words, shoulders losing some of their tension as he withdraws from Hongjoong’s desk a bit.

“There are too many… I don’t even know where to begin with the list of bad things that could happen if you bring Mingi into that arena,” he murmurs with his gaze glued to the floor.

“Risks! Then what are the damn risks?” Hongjoong slams a fist against the table, eyes narrowing on Yunho and Jongho where they stand near your side. Yunho purses his lips and shakes his head, an evident lack of knowledge concerning what Hongjoong asks. Jongho, however, avoids Hongjoong’s stare like it’s a plague spread by sight. “Jongho, give me an answer. Best case scenario?”

“Best case scenario is that Mingi goes fucking psycho,” Jongho relents, giving an answer to Hongjoong’s desperate questions at last. “And I somehow manage to quell him before something worse happens.”

“And worst?”

“Worst is that he goes fucking psycho and kills me, which means the none of you have a way to stop him without killing him.”

The odds aren’t pretty in the slightest. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. Hongjoong doesn’t seem to be backing down though; he still seems adamant about bringing Mingi along despite the risks. The captain sinks to his chair without a word, hands pressed hard against his temples.

“Yunho, give me something. Anything.” Hongjoong’s tone is nothing short of desperate. On your left, Seonghwa grinds his teeth together and avoids looking at Hongjoong.

“I have an… idea,” Yunho starts, tone barely above a whisper. It isn’t hard to see that he’s hesitant and nervous about whatever it is he’s thinking. Again, you find yourself wallowing in shock. First, Hongjoong’s brash and bold facade falling away, and now Yunho’s arrogant and know-it-all attitude?

“Yunho.” Desperation doesn’t sound pretty falling from Hongjoong’s lips. You’ve decided that much.

“I don’t think I could carry it out in good conscience. It’s a bit – well, it’s unethical.”

“Jeong Yunho, I could care less about ethics right now. But if you don’t hurry up and spit it out, I will have no qualms with putting your head through a wall.” The threat falls on deaf ears, and Yunho doesn’t seem daunted by Hongjoong’s words in the slightest. Still, he heaves a deep breath and continues to speak.

“There’s a way to, uh, accelerate a hard reset. I’ve been looking into it over the past few days since Y/N told me what the military did to her. According to my research, the military uses a serum – injected into the arm once – then sends several electric pulses to the brain. They often add a narcotic given orally so that the patient doesn’t feel any pain throughout the process.” Yunho’s gaze shifts over to you. “It effectively wipes the memory of the patient.” The gleam in his eyes is almost expectant, like he’s waiting for you to have some sort of reaction. And you do.

Strong arms yanking you forward, fingers closed around your bicep. Weak cries for help and attempts to pull away. A cold chair against your back, then the touch of rough leather straps coming over your wrists and ankles. Writhing and kicking to get out of the chair, only to be hit across the temple with a sharp jab. A stab of a needle, a syringe going into your skin, a strange blue liquid being pushed into you. Warmth, then the feeling of your blood turning to ice. Your mouth forced open and something being shoved deep inside. Red. So much red. Hands coming down on your head. Then – nothing.

You don’t realize what’s going on around you until several sets of eyes snap to focus on you. Frankly, you think that you’re handling the trauma quite well. Still on your feet, at least even if you can’t think thanks to the rush of blood in your ears. You imagine that you even manage a tight-lipped smile in Yunho’s direction – an assurance that you are just fine. That was a minor miscalculation, as it turns out, and all of a sudden, San’s hand is on the back of your neck, cradling your head when your knees buckle and you nearly fall to the ground. It’s embarrassing more than anything else, especially with the heat of Hongjoong’s stare on you and your determination to not be weak in front of him. You seem to be proving anything but the fact that you’re strong.

San’s touch is too much. It sears your skin, fills your head and overwhelms you in seconds, and you do hit the ground this time, although it only consists of your knees hitting the metal underneath you. San chases you, hands seeking purchase on your waist and shoulder, but you swat the offending limbs away before he can touch you. It reminds you too much of that dark room, the hands closing around your temples, and the cold liquid filling your veins until you could feel nothing else. The memory that has been buried for years and years coming forward again, stronger than ever before. Your head feels as though it’s being split open with a dull knife, but you can’t even manage to cry out from the pain.

“I’m fine,” you hiss out between gritted teeth. San’s hands remain close though, ready to make contact if need be. Seonghwa has angled his body in your direction, and his brows are so closely knit that you can hardly see the skin between them. He doesn’t move though, staying as far away as he is without making any effort to come closer. Hongjoong barely bats a lash in your direction.

“Will he have a similar reaction?”

Yunho’s gaze flits between you and Hongjoong, mouth hanging open and failing to produce words for what feels like hours.

“H-He – possibly. Yes, he might,” he manages after some time. “In the event we discuss it. I… Y/N went years without remembering what happened, though. He could remember nothing depending on how effective the process is.”

“How quickly can you complete the procedure?” Hongjoong’s tone has grown cold and emotionless, face as rigid as a statue. You would believe that he’s an Elitist at that moment if you didn’t know better.

“Hongjoong, you – you can’t be seriously considering this,” Seonghwa stammers.

“How long will it take, Healer?”

Yunho presses his lips together.

“I should be able to complete the procedure in no more than an hour. All Mingi needs to do is have ample time to recover physically. Maybe a day at most. I – I would need the serum they use. I can’t make it myself.”

“That can be arranged. We can find a source and dispatch a team to collect it within a day.”

“Hongjoong–”

“You can’t be serious about this,” Jongho growls, stepping forward once more, but this time he doesn’t stop until he hits the edge of the desk. His hand darts out and snatches the collar of Hongjoong’s shirt. Seonghwa lunges into action, hand gliding over the table before rising up to press against Jongho’s neck. There’s a glimmer of silver, and it’s only then when you notice the blade in Seonghwa’s hand, one that is digging into Jongho’s skin without relent.

“Yunho, we’ll have what you need within a day,” Hongjoong continues without so much as batting a lash at Jongho’s aggression. “You should be prepared to conduct the procedure day after tomorrow, and that will give you enough time to finish it and help Mingi recover for the mission the next day. You all are dismissed for the time being.”

No one moves despite the order. If Hongjoong is surprised or angered by that, he doesn’t let it show on his expression.

“If you do this, I won’t forgive you,” Jongho hisses. His knuckles go white from the pressure of his clenched fist.

“Don’t be mistaken, Jongho. I don’t need your forgiveness for anything I do.” Seonghwa’s hand twitches, and the blade drags over Jongho’s skin. A few droplets of blood glide down to the hilt of the knife. “Should my decisions upset you that deeply, then you are welcome to leave the crew as you see fit.”

Jongho jerks backward, hand falling down to his side, and from where you kneel on the ground, you can clearly see the anguish that paints his expression. His chest heaves a bit from the deep breaths he’s gasping in, but words fail him for several moments. The whole situation unfolding before you feels like a fever dream, something so surreal and confusing and painful, but somehow that only gets worse. You couldn’t describe the pain that blossoms in your chest when Jongho utters his next words if you wanted to; all you know is that it’s such a tangible pain that you feel it through your whole body.

“Then I’ll pack my things and be gone in the morning.” A startled and choked sob bursts from Wooyoung’s lips, and his hand reaches up to clap over his mouth just as quickly. He attempts to hide himself from view before anyone can see the evidence of his distress. It’s useless, of course, but no one is about to tell him that. Yeosang extends a silent offer of support, arms wrapping around Wooyoung’s waist and pulling him into a tight embrace as the other quietly cries against him. Hongjoong’s gaze flits over to watch the exchange.

“So be it.” Hongjoong’s words are tight, strained, and almost thick. However, he doesn’t try to stop Jongho, and when the Berserker turns around to leave the room, Hongjoong merely watches him go. Yunho rushes to follow the man out, calling out his name too late.

“Hong–” Seonghwa doesn’t get to finish his thought as the captain levels him with a glare so intense that you have to look away.

“Yeosang, San, and Y/N. Return tomorrow at seven in the morning. You’ll be the team going to get the serum for Yunho.” You push up to stand up straight once more, San’s hand lingering near your back in case you fall again.

“Understood, Captain,” Yeosang replies over Wooyoung’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything more than that; instead, he guides the man in his arms to the door with gentle hands and pushes. Once the door snaps shut behind them, the cracks in Hongjoong’s resolve begin to show. He exhales a staggered and shaky sigh, head dipping down until he stares at the wood under him with empty eyes.

“Don’t give me that look, San,” he mutters after a few seconds of stagnant silence.

“Sorry, Captain. I’m–” San inhales sharply and blinks up at the ceiling before he continues the thought “–You once told me that even when there seems to only be one way out, there is always another option. I hope you remember that.”

You move when San does, not wanting to stay in the room any longer than you have to, and neither Hongjoong or Seonghwa try to stop you from going. Stepping back onto the bridge is like breathing fresh air after being trapped inside for too long. There’s an immediate break in the tension, and reality seeps through your skin in that moment.

“He’s not… he’s not serious, is he?” You ask, tone so hushed that you aren’t sure San hears it at first. All San can do is release a dry laugh.

“Which one are you talking about?” You aren’t even sure that you could answer that. San tilts his head from side to side, releasing a small hum as he leads the way off the bridge. You fall into step with him without complaint, content with going wherever he goes as long as it’s away from Hongjoong’s quarters. “Jongho is dead serious. He would never let any harm come to Mingi, and if he had it in him, I’m sure he would go against Hongjoong’s orders. I think – I think he sees leaving as his only option. The only way he knows how to get Hongjoong to see reason and think straight, or… yeah. I think he’s being serious, but Hongjoong? Not at all. He’s not thinking straight, too little sleep obviously but also too caught up in something in his head. I’ve seen him like this before, making bad and irrational decisions out of desperation. He’ll get over it.”

“How long will that take?”

“Hopefully less than two days?”

“You don’t sound confident,” you say through a weak smile.

“I’m not.” San glances over at you, eyes glistening with an emotion you can’t read. However, you don’t have time to dwell on it or wonder what it is because he continues speaking without dwelling on the subject for long. “If this does work out the way Hongjoong wants it to, then we’ll be going on yet another dangerous mission, huh?”

“Not as dangerous as the last, I hope,” you murmur back.

“I fear that… more than I would like to admit. A repeat of what happened last time we were on an official mission. I don’t think I can go through that again.” San pauses, and his tongue darts out to drag over his lips. “Seeing you in the position again — t-that’s hard to think about. Any of the crew in that position for that matter.” You aren’t sure what compels you, but you reach down to catch hold of his hand, pulling it closer to you and lacing your fingers through his without saying anything for a few moments. When you do muster the strength to speak, your voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper.

“We’ll be more careful this time. Better prepared too.”

“Seonghwa must be rubbing off on you,” San chuckles. “You sound just like him.” The words catch your off-guard, and you pull your hand back in an instant thanks to the surprise. You don’t know what expression crosses your features, but San sees it and devolves into a small panic because of it. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t – I didn’t mean to overstep. If you–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I just w-wasn’t expecting that,” you interject, equally as rushed and frantic. It serves to calm San down some though, and that’s all you can ask for at this point in time. “You’re not overstepping.”

“Then would it be too much to ask if everything is alright between the two of you?” San’s question isn’t inherently nosey or prying, merely a genuine question about the state of your relationship with Seonghwa, but you aren’t even sure how to answer that yourself. It isn’t a relationship – a romantic one, that is – but it surely can’t be described as nothing more than a friendship or a work relationship because friends or coworkers don’t necessarily behave the way the two of you do. The lack of a label on it helped up until this point. Now you feel as though you’re swimming in a deep ocean with no life vest.

“We’re… on break?”

“Now look who doesn’t sound confident,” San teases. The smile that stretches his lips offers a moderate amount of comfort, and you find yourself returning it with one of your own without thinking.

“He’s patient and giving to a fault almost, and I — it makes me feel guilty because I can’t give the same in return. So… on break.”

“Hm, well, if I may be so bold as to offer some sort of advice?”

“Be as bold as you want, by all means.”

“In any type of relationship, there is give and take whether you are aware of it or not. You may not feel like you are giving as much as he is, but the guilt you feel towards it is more than enough to show that you aren’t intrinsically a bad person or someone who just wants to take. Some people show affection and love through giving. It’s hard not to want to give back in return, but at some point, it all becomes a matter of perspective. Receiving love, letting someone give you that, allowing yourself to accept those things – I guarantee that the other person sees that, appreciates it, and feels your affection through it. Especially when you’ve gone through things that would otherwise hinder your desire and ability to let people into your heart.” San’s gaze is almost too warm and soft on your skin, and chills go through your spine because of it despite the warmth.

“I-I… you’re t-too bold, Choi San,” you stutter as you try to wrangle your scrambling thoughts before they slip too far away from you.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Which one?” San hums, moving to tap his chin, and you swing a fist at his arm. “Sorry, sorry! It was a joke! Please don’t hurt me!”

“As much as I hate to admit it: yes, you’re right. Those sorts of emotions are something I’ve never put much value or care into because of my line of work. When I did, it was something I didn’t value enough until they were gone. So I suppose that part of me doesn’t know how to do it right.”

“Well, is that something you would want one day? Someone – a person and a family or the like?”

“I’ve never thought about it that way.”

“Never seen people as a necessity? Moreso just constants in your life? Things that come and go without influence or intention?”

“Stop reading my mind,” you grumble, turning your cheek in the opposite direction so you don’t have to suffer looking at San’s everpresent grin. “Yes, I think I would like to have that someday. When this is all over, and I can rest without constantly looking over my shoulder or worrying that something bad might happen.”

“Hm, do you think that’s a possibility?” You barely notice that you and San have stopped moving. You’re suddenly standing still in the corridor, side by side but now facing each other head-on, and San continues peering at you with those same perceptive eyes.

“I think… I think I would only have that peace when I’m dead.” San’s smile falters and shifts into a pursed frown.

“You’ll find that peace one day, Y/N. I’m certain of it. Because if even I can be worthy and deserving of having that chance at happiness, then you can too.” His words almost put a spell over you, and you find yourself stuck to the spot, unable to budge even an inch. San reaches up and cups your face with his hands, letting his grin return and tug one side of his lips up. You follow the movements with your hands as well, not with the intent to pull him away but merely to let your fingers rest against his wrists as he holds you gently. “We’ll get there,” he whispers.

“O-Okay,” you respond with a series of shaky nods. Slowly but surely, San moves closer to yours, lips pressing against your forehead so softly that the feeling of the kiss ghosts over you in less than a second. He pulls back with a sigh, not asking for anything more than that, then extends a hand in your direction. It takes a moment for it to process, but you place your own in his once it dawns on you.

“Come on. I guess we better go say our goodbyes to Jongho.”

✧✧✧ a/n: gah yall have no idea how much I missed this ;-; I'm so happy to be writing something that isn’t smut KLFJSDKLFJL i needed this break from kinktober and I'm so happy that this is the chapter I got to write because whewie she’s a big one and she’s intense!! I hope you guys enjoy tho pls let me know what you think >-<

if you would like to, you can take the survey here! if you would like to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @takitaro @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @minbinwhore

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

331 notes · View notes

alloftheimaginesblog · 4 years

Text

You’re Safe Now (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Plot: Bellamy ventures into Mount Weather to save his friends and the girl he loves.

Character: Bellamy Blake x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, violence. Takes place Season 2 episode 11 and onwards though changes events to suit (I’m re-watching The 100 bc I stopped at Season 4 the first time I watched it so I’m in a Bellamy mood!)

When Bellamy goes into Mount Weather, nothing could’ve prepared him for the horrors that lay ahead. Lincoln could only prepare him for the start of the journey but not the cages, not the blood transfusions, not the bone marrow torture; not any of it.

Thank god that Maya was on their side. He wouldn’t have escaped his cage without her help. He searches the cages before he leaves, it’s just Grounders in them. Bellamy demands Maya to list the names of those who are here that are his friends. He cuts her short when she says your name fifth.

“I don’t know where they keep your friends,” Maya says quietly, “I’ve checked all of these cages, over and over. They’re keeping them somewhere else.”

“Why?” Bellamy’s tone is angrier than he intended, “Where is (y/n)?”

“We haven’t seen her in four days,” Maya tells him, “Monty and Harper are missing too.” Anger surges through him burning red hot in his veins. He clenches his fists and breathes hard as he glares at the cages surrounding him. He just needs you to be okay. He needs to save you. He cannot lose you.

“Why have they separated us from the Grounders?” He asks through clenched teeth.

“There was a breach and I got caught in it, they did it on purpose because they knew that Jasper would volunteer his blood to save me. The blood of your people, the Sky People, works ten times better than that of the Grounders. They figured out that bone marrow from you allows us to walk on the ground.”

It’s a harsh realisation that hits him in the stomach causing him to take a sharp intake of breath, “They’re experimenting on us,” Bellamy realises, voice nothing more than a whisper, “They’re killing us to save themselves.” He turns to Maya who looks terrified, “We have to hurry.”

His footsteps are heavy as they go through the corridors. Maya’s a nervous wreck beside him and he knows it but he doesn’t care. He needs to find his friends, he needs to find you. Maya tells him in a hushed whisper all that she knows about the transfusions and about his friends and tells him that they need Grounder blood but more importantly Sky People blood in order to live on the ground. Bellamy was going to kill them. He was going to kill every single one of them who hurt you. He almost can’t think straight, the anger is almost too much for him to cope with.

Maya grabs his arm, she notices that he’s almost tipping himself over the edge, “We’ll get your friends out of here.” She looks sad, he notices as he allows himself to breathe deeply and calm down. She’s worried about her fate, he realises. She’s helping them escape but she can’t come with them... what will happen to her? He pushes that out of his mind, not wanting to think about it before nodding and carrying on. She glances at him out of the corner of his eye hoping that he knows what he’s doing to pull this off.

The light burns your eyes as they flash the torch on your face, “This one will have to do,” the doctor, Doctor Tsing, says.

“Looks weak,” Cage Wallace, the new President of Mount Weather, comments.

“She’ll have to do for now, your father released the others but soon we’ll have the rest of the 47 to choose from.”

“She’ll die?” Cage studies your face as you glare at him, Tsing nods and Cage shrugs, “So be it.”

Rough hands of the guards drag you out of the cage, pulling you legs first. You’re almost too weak to fight back but you try. It’s a weak attempt, one that fails very easily, as you try and kick at the guards. Your foot collides with the chin of one but the other grabs your ankles and shoves you to the ground. Your body hits the cold floor as the guards grab you and force you upwards.

Cage’s lips twist into a cruel smile as you’re brought to your feet, “I’m surprised you’ve got any fight left in you.” Your weakness didn’t stop you from being angry. They were hurting your friends, they were going to kill them after they killed you.

“Go to hell.” Your voice is a hoarse croak.

Cage grins, “Oh no, we’re going someplace better... We’re going to the ground.” He nods to the guards and they shove you forwards, towards the patient bed in the centre of the room.

You struggle feebly but the guards are too strong. They force you to lie on the bed and they strap you in, strapping you in so tightly that it even hurts to breathe. Cage and Tsing talk in the corner, you can hear them but you don’t listen. You try to control your breathing as you stare up at the concrete ceiling. Death looms over you and you know it as you clench your jaw and your fists. There’s nothing to be done now, you’re trapped and you’ll be dead in a few minutes. They knew it too, they’d taken too much from you in such a short space of time, you’d die within minutes of the procedure. They were taking your bone marrow, apparently it allowed them to walk on the ground without taking damage for the radiation. You’d tried to tell them before how the ground wasn’t that special but that was a lie. How you yearned to touch the grass, feel cool water on your skin, feel the breeze through your hair one last time... how you yearned to feel his touch one last time.

You hear the drill as they test it out and squeeze your eyes shut. Forcing yourself to drone it all out, you begin to think of your friends. You were hoping that by now they’d managed to come up with a plan to escape, even if it meant leaving you. You think of Jasper and Monty and Miller and Harper... and it isn’t long before Bellamy Blake comes into your head.

Oh, Bellamy.

Tears want to desperately fall from your eyes, burning and nipping, but you keep them shut and force yourself to stop. You wish that you could see him one last time, tell him how you truly feel. You’ve imagined that moment over and over again in your head over the last few weeks. He already knows, you know that, but he needs to hear it. You need him to hear it. The last two months, you’d spent the majority of them curled up with him, making love under the stars, talking quietly in the dark, sharing secrets you’d never told anyone... You’d spent the last two months falling in love with him so hard.

The sound of the drill began to get closer to you. This was it. You open your eyes, letting the tears fall, as you stare at the ceiling imagining space. You try so hard to picture the view from the windows, the glow of the stars, the colours...

“May we meet again,” you whisper before the drill makes contact with your skin and you begin to scream.

It’s a bloodcurdling, horrid scream that he hears and he immediately knows that it’s you. The vents are tight but he can make it but he has to move fast. Bellamy’s heart is racing, hearing your screams and the voices grow louder. He feels sick as he hears them torture you, he wants to kill them for harming you; he wants to kill them all.

“Her pulse is getting weaker, she’s dying.”

Bellamy Blake is scared as he wills himself to move faster. He sees the grate of the vent up ahead, he’s so close. Your screams fade to nothing and he clenches his jaw. Only a few more feet. He sees you through the grate and bile rises in his throat. He can’t. He can’t look at you. He refuses to look at you because he’d really lose it then.

“We’re losing her.”

“Like hell you are,” Bellamy grunts as he blasts the grate open and throws himself out into the room. The element of surprise allows him to shoot the two guards with quick ease but his gun jams when he goes to blast Cage’s head off.

They begin to fight as Tsing keeps working to extract the last of your bone marrow. Your head lulls to the side, eyes struggling to stay open as you sway on the edge of unconsciousness. You can’t figure out what’s happening as all you can focus on is trying to fight to stay awake. There’s no pain anymore, in fact, you feel numb all over. It’s cold... it’s death, you realise.

Bellamy manages to slam the butt of his gun into the side of Cage’s head, knocking him to the floor. He wasn’t dead but for now, unconscious was good enough. He had to be fast. He moves to Tsing next, unable to look at you, as she takes the syringe out of your hip.

“Let her go,” Bellamy warns her, secretly reaching his arm behind his back to find the knife in the waistband of his pants.

“I take it this one’s special to you,” she smiles sadistically, “It had to be done.”

She turns away from Bellamy, reaching for the gun on the table but Bellamy’s faster. He’s already plunged the knife into her shoulder before she can grab it. Your vision’s clouding over, unable to do anything or see anything. Bellamy needs to get you out now.

Tsing yells out, grabbing the gun and aiming for him but Bellamy has the upper hand. She’s wounded which makes her sloppy so he easily overpowers her and takes the gun before shooting. The gunshot makes your ears ring, making you gasp a deep breath of air. It pulls you back to consciousness for a couple of seconds as Bellamy pockets the gun and the knife once more before rushing to you.

You barely feel his hands as he presses down on your hip to stop the bleeding, covering it with something and he checks you over. His face comes into your line of vision as he pulls you up, drapes something around you to hide your body from others, and lifts you up. He looks down at you, talking but you’re slipping away from him. It’s almost like you’re underwater, you know he’s talking but you can’t tell what the words are.

As darkness seeps into you vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his eyes and whisper a tiny, “Bellamy...” before falling deep into the darkness.

The sounds of muffled voices talking, no wait, shouting is what woke you up. Your eyes fluttered open groggily as you tried to move but the pain was too much. Every part of your body ached, it felt like you’d been trampled on by one hundred horses.

“It’s been thirty eight hours!” You knew that voice. Who was that?

“She’ll come round when she’s ready.” You knew that voice too.

“I just need to know she’s okay.”

“Bellamy-”

Bellamy.

You groan softly, stopping whoever it was from talking, “She’s waking up!”

Someone rushed to you, you knew it was Bellamy from his scent - gunpowder and pine, “Bellamy,” you whisper, opening your eyes. It took a moment before they adjusted and you could see his face clearly, “Bellamy.” You want to so desperately cry and he knows that.

“You’re okay, you’re safe now.” His hands caress your cheeks, “Here,” he whispers, grabbing a cup from the table and helping you drink it, “It’s water, drink.” You drink it all quickly, water had never felt so good. He fills another and you finish it, too.

“Let me check her over,” it’s Abby, you realise. She walks to you, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

Bellamy chuckles from beside you. He holds your hand as Abby checks you over. She checks your pulse, your heart, your pupils and your pain levels. She explains that you’d lost a lot of blood and a lot of fluids and that it’ll take a few days for you to feel better again, “It was touch and go for a day,” she says, “but we managed to get you stable last night.”

“What- What happened?” You look to Bellamy who glances at Abby, “How long have I been out?”

“Thirty eight hours, your body had a lot of trauma, it needed time to heal and recover... I’ll give you a while to talk,” she says before leaving the tent.

“I’ve been out for over two days?” Bellamy smiles before you look around, realising you’re back at camp, and ask, “We’re safe? I was... They were...” You look down, “They were killing me.”

Bellamy takes your hands, forcing you to look at him, “I got you out, you remember?” You nod slowly, trying to piece together the hazy details, “I got you out. You were so close to dying.” His voice was tight, like he was just barely holding it together, “I managed to get you out of the mountain in time. Abby treated you in camp while I dealt with the mountain.”

“Dealt with?”

Bellamy looks down, “There was no other way. They were going to kill us all.” He tells you what he and Clarke did, how they had to irradiate the mountain, killing every single person who wasn’t Grounder or Sky Person, “It was the only way. We had to kill hundreds of innocent people.”

You swallow, digesting the information, he looks up at you and you give him a small smile, “You’re forgiven.” It’s what he needs. He needs that forgiveness, he needs your forgiveness. He helped slaughter a bunch of innocent people and he’ll carry that guilt forever but you make it a little easier.

Abby comes back a minute later, requesting that Bellamy go help with a situation at the gate. He looks to you and you nod, “I’ll be okay.” He leaves reluctantly.

Abby gets you something to eat and replenishes your water as she helps you sit up, “You’ll start to feel better soon.”

After devouring the soup and crackers, you ask, “Where’s Clarke?” It’s a touchy subject and as soon as you ask it, you want to take it back. Abby clears her throat and looks to her hands.

It’s a minute before she talks again, “She’s- She left. She’s gone.” You want to ask why but it’s a fresh wound so you stop yourself from saying anything else about it. She helps you to lay back down, “I’ll be back in a while to check on you. Do you need anything else?”

“Bellamy,” you say quietly, “I just need Bellamy.”

You didn’t mean to fall asleep and you didn’t realise you’d fallen asleep until you woke up. Bellamy is in the chair next to your bed, reading something. You roll over and he looks at you as a smile grows on his face, “Hey, sleepy head.” Octavia had known weeks before he did, she would constantly tease him about you... how right she was when she said he loved you. He did love you, he does love you.

“How long?”

“Three hours.” He leans forwards, “You must’ve been exhausted.”

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“Three hours.”

You feel your cheeks burning, “You waited that whole time?”

Bellamy smiles at you, “I waited here thirty eight hours for you to wake up, what’s three more?” He helps you to sit up, “I needed to know that you were okay.” He scoots his chair closer to the edge of the bed, you’re only inches apart from.

You reached for him, he caught your hands easily and let you tug him to sit on the bed beside you, “I was so scared,” you tell him quietly, “I thought I was going to die.”

Bellamy could tell that you were close to crying so he gently cradled you to his chest, shushing you and telling you that you were okay. He wasn’t sure of the full extent of your torture there but he knew it was horrible. It angered him that you and so many of his friends went through that and some even died but they’d gotten you out safe. He had saved you.

“Clarke’s gone,” he murmurs, “She couldn’t deal with having to face everyone when they know that we killed all those innocent people. She did it to save us all, I did it save us all. I don’t know where she is; she doesn’t want to be found.”

“How are you?” You ask him, pulling away so that you can look at him but still holding onto him, “How are you coping?” It wasn’t just Clarke’s hand on that lever, Bellamy helped kill them too.

He could never lie to you. He shrugs, “Not slept, I’ve been staying at your side so I’ve not really faced anyone. I’ve been too worried about you to care about what the others think, honestly but... Jasper’s a mess, Monty says that he’s just been drinking non-stop.”

“Maya,” you realise. Bellamy’s head falls, “Jasper will be okay. We all will be.” You hope that’s true.

Silence falls for a minute before you say his name, “Thank you... for saving me.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, the slightest smile on his face, “Haven’t you realised that I will always look out for you? I will always protect you.” He’s serious, he would do anything to protect you and keep you safe even if it meant getting himself killed, “You don’t realise how badly I need you to be okay.” It’s a confession that shocks you but he keeps going, needing you to hear it; needing you to believe him, “I heard you screaming when they were torturing you and it broke my heart. The whole time I was in there, my priority was you and that’s selfish that I wanted to save you first than all of our friends as well but I need you to always be safe.”

“Bell...”

“I know,” he pulls away, thinking that you’re rejecting him, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You grab his wrist, “When I was lying there, waiting to die, do you know what I thought of? I thought of you, Bellamy. I thought of all the things I wanted to say to you if I survived, I thought of all those nights we had together, I thought of your smile, your messy hair in the mornings, the way you moan my name... I thought of what I need to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” His voice shakes. He knows, he knows exactly what you needed to tell him but he he wants to hear you say it; he needs to hear you say it.

“I love you,” you whisper as he edges closer to you, “I am in love with you, Bellamy.”

It’s rare for Bellamy to be so open but with you, it’s always been different. He can’t stop the smile that spreads on his face. He can’t help his racing heart and the butterflies in his stomach. He feels stupid but he’s happy. For the first time in a long time, he’s happy, “I love you.”

He kisses you. It’s not like all those other times when you were rushing to take the others clothes off. It’s soft and delicate and he’s savouring every single second of this new type of intimacy. His hands cup your face as you grab onto his shirt to pull him closer. Bellamy is the one person who sends you into a flurry of emotions; your weakness.

Far too soon, he pulls away. Smiling, you press your forehead against his, closing your eyes and enjoying the happy moment together; it wasn’t often a happy moment came along. You stay like that for a long time, breathing and just enjoying the love before he clears his throat, “You should rest.” He goes to move away, unsure now of what to do.

Once more, you grab him but this time you scoot to the left and open the blanket up for him, “You should rest.”

“I need to be on watch-”

“Bellamy,” you say, “You’ve not slept in days, you’re exhausted. Come to bed.” He relents, kicking off his boots and throwing his jacket into the chair at the side of the bed. He crawls in beside you, the warmth of your body soothing his aching muscles.

He lies on his side, arm draped over your body as he presses his lips to your temple, “Thank you,” he whispers, already feeling sleep take over, “for loving me.” You’re taken aback by it but you slide closer to him, pulling his arm over you tighter.

The light snores signalled that he was already asleep. You smile, closing your eyes, “I love you, Bellamy Blake. You’re safe now.” It’s only minutes later when you fall asleep in his warm embrace.

#one shot #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #reader insert #the 100 #the 100 one shot #os #prompt #long prompt #written prompt #the hundred #bellamy blake one shot #bellamy blake imagine

178 notes · View notes

we-are-not-your-kind · 3 years

Text

Tonight's episode actually shattered my heart. I haven't cried this hard since Endgame....

SPOILERS

Dean saying that "Jack isn't family".... Boi do we need to have a fucking talk????

Jack's "I understand" and "You're welcome"

I was traumatized within ten minutes of this cursed episode...

Cas' immediate response when he thought Sam would kill himself... Angel you deserve the world 💙💙💙

The hallway scene

THE FUCKING HALLWAY SCENE

DEAN WHY WOULD YOU PULL A GUN ON SAM????

I was sobbing on the floor

SAM'S SPEECH TO DEAN I---

I knew it was coming but still wasn't prepared

Fucking Chuck

(but also,,,,, Amara deserved so much better)

BUT FUCKING CHUCK THO

Chuck telling TFW that their Cas was the only version in the whole multiverse who didn't follow orders. Their Cas stuck with Dean, CHOSE DEAN over Heaven, and was the only version to do so. How dare CW say that isn't love.... That's love beyond anything.

and how DARE they end the episode on my baby boi dying in TFW'S arms... tHE AUDACITY

BUT THEN!

the dam teaser for 15x18

First off Bobby's back which great whatever

Billie! We stan! But plz don't hurt my bois!

THE DESTIEL DUNGEON SCENE

I KNEW IT WAS COMING BUT SEEING THE CONFIRMATION IS NOT WHAT I NEEDED

anD THE BLOODY HANDPRINT IS GONNA KILL ME

ALSO! I feel low-key like Chuck saying what he did will probably entice Cas to finally tell Dean how he feels. I might be having wishful thinking but all the signs are there, all the dots are making the picture, and I will not accept Cas' death even if Destiel happens but!

If Destiel DOES happen but Cas gets sent to the Empty, I would much rather have that and whether it's canon or not believe that Dean follows him to get his angel back

TLDR; I'm still clowning, but not without merit

#supernatural #spn s15 #spn #destiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #casdean #cas deserves better #sobbing #clowning #jack kline #team free will #team free dads #fuck this #spn 15x17 #spn 15x18 #the empty

145 notes · View notes

dropsofletters · 3 years

Text

how to lose someone in seven steps? | prologue

— summary: love-induced heartbreak is one of the most overrated things to ever be talked about, and she doesn’t get why most of her friends take up on such conversations with sighs following every statement. relationships aren’t something to linger on—but when one of her friends dares her to make one of their infamous exes, whom they had a hard time getting over with, fall in love with her, she takes up on the challenge. earning them? easy. losing them? even easier.

— title: how to lose someone in seven steps? — pairing: wayv x reader (depending on whose route you select) — genre: bet!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; love experiment!au (and other au’s depending on the routes) — type: fluff ; romance ; humor ; drama ; angst (varying according to the route) — word count: 2,821

She once said she’d die the day she fell in love.

It’s one of those rare concepts that her literature teacher loved gushing about when she wrote them on paper. Dying for love, actually, has been romanticized for as long as she can remember. Think The Notebook or Romeo and Juliet—hell, even The Walking Dead could enter in this category in some of their episodes. The toxicity of such matter, however, goes past what she has ever wanted to portray when saying those words. She’d die if she ever were to fall in love.

Because, falling in love feels like dying, and though she hasn’t lived it, she can tell by the look on her friends’ eyes whenever they got their heart stepped on, munched, bitten, spat out at their feet—whatever. Promises of never going through the same thing lived inside her head when she had to push one of her friend’s hair back to have them throw up on the club’s flooring, crying after a break-up. Or, rather, when she saw one of her friends skimming through Instagram for the twelfth time that day and, yes, absolutely, her boyfriend is, still, liking the pictures of a bunch of women with cup sizes bigger than hers.

It’s unnecessary. People dream about it, hear songs about it, but they never quite think about how much they could avoid if they didn’t go around seeking for love, or for one-time-things that will only end up in another person getting entangled. It’s the common mistake of never getting to know another person well, and hence, never getting to know oneself nicely enough. Love starts from the moment we give our first breath.

As of currently, her friend Ada can’t breathe. Or, well, she can—but she chooses not to as she downs yet another shot and weeps at the memory of her latest break up.

The food settled on the table in between the group of eight women smells delicious, but no one has payed enough attention to the meal itself and rather, downed a few drinks for the sake of making Ada feel better. With her makeup running down her chubby cheeks, her once long brown hair cut into a bob after the break-up that has kept her crying for the past two days, and her hands shakingly reaching for the soju to pour some more, she finally takes the first bite of the salad she had ordered, eyes glimpsing at what she never wants to have.

Heartbreak is the ugliest, yet most overrated, thing that could ever happen in this world.

The kind of beauty a woman possesses when getting into a relationship erases itself when she’s out of it. It’s momentary, sure, she’s well aware that Ada will go back to her bubbly, adorable self one of these days, but it’s neither tomorrow nor the next day. “I—I just don’t get it—” And, preferably, the people on the table next to them must not get it as well. They have been snooping on what Ada has been worrying about for the past thirty minutes. “The sex was good. The kisses were good. I just—Why did he have to be such an asshole at the end?”

Ada believes in happy endings, though. When they were children—and she’s one of her oldest friends—, she’d always dress up as Cinderella on Halloween, throwing her shoe around in hopes of someone catching it and looking for her. No one did, but one can only dream. “Baby,” Elena, the classiest of the group, takes out a small handkerchief from her purse before patting it against Ada’s moist cheeks. “That’s what you get for dating an exotic dancer. Who thinks an exotic dancer is going to settle down for them?” She pushes her long black hair away from her shoulders, her porcelain skin matching the deep burgundy of her plush lips. Elena’s beauty is unmatchable.

“I did, b—but…” There it is, the worry, the excuses that come with dating a man. “But Yukhei just seemed different. He always talked about his dreams…and about how pretty he thought I was. It just—” Before she could refill her glass with soju, she takes the bottle away from her.

Heartbreak may have never reached her, but she’s not letting it affect her friend. “Ada, stop it. Enough alcohol for today. Grab a bite or something.”

“Ah!” Ada, as dramatic as always, pushes her head back. “Stop babying me, you’ve all been in this position. Just let me motherfucking drink—!”

Elena sighs from her spot, fingertips running over the glassed table of the restaurant they’re in. Red curtains over glassed windows who trail over the lightened-up city, matching the champagne colored walls. “I didn’t act like this when I broke up with Kun.”

Yifei, who has just come back to the table after a smoke break, ruffles the curled up strands of her bleached blonde hair before scoffing. “That’s because you didn’t love Kun, honey.” Taking her bomber jacket off, she lets her tattoos be on full display, roses and thorns the most outstanding one. “You’ll know what real love is when they leave you for someone else, not when you’re the one leaving.”

“…Damn.” Ada whispers from her spot, licking the outline of her shot glass before sighing. “Did Kun Hang hurt you that much?”

Yifei has thick skin, hurts in ways that no one ever notices, and her love affair from four years ago still lingers within her. “It’s not exactly pain, but when your high school love admits that he’s been in love with this old ass businesswoman for the entirety of your months-long relationship, it hurts.”

“That was four years ago,” Elena answers, swatting her hand in the air. “Besides, I was in love with Kun, but contrary to your two guys…he loved too much. I felt like I was being constricted and, girls, I am a chef—” Pride bleeds from her every word when she takes a sip of her pink champagne. “I know when bad things are cooking up, and Kun was a big red sign for clingy.”

A hiss leaves her lips then, rubbing her hands together. “Oh, damn, we’re getting good spice today, aren’t we? Tearing your exes apart!”

It’s fun—it’s the kind of activity they have to do to have Ada smiling at them. “Well, Ada, now that you’re single, some advice:” Liying speaks from her spot, fixing her perfectly sleeked back bun just to grab a bite of the immaculately prepared carbonara pasta in front of them, twirling her fork in the air. “Never go for younger guys. I went for a college guy, thinking that because he didn’t have much experience, he’d go to me, and because he was rich as all hell, I thought he’d pay for everything…” Liying’s voice trails dangerously, her face without an ounce of makeup scrunching up in disgust. “But younger guys? They’re insecure, end of story.”

It’s a bit difficult to remember who had swept Liying off her feet, considering she’s now happily in a relationship with a journalist. “Who was that again?” She asks, well aware that she is the only one who has stayed single for the majority of their friendship, and Liying turns to the side to look at her.

“Liu Yangyang. Rich nightmare.”

Yifei whistles from her side. “But he was rich. That’s always a plus.”

“Not when he’s always texting you, Yifei.” Liying conquers, pursing her lips in the process. “Like, babe, like, are you sure that you didn’t, like, sleep with someone while I was in Germany? Like, babe, really, like, it is better if you just tell me. Like. Like. Like.” She repeats over and over again, and it’s at this moment that her brain clicks. Right. Liu Yangyang…Liying had introduced her to him once at her birthday event, but she doesn’t remember much from him.

The women around the table burst with laughter, and she looks towards another one of her friends, trying to make Ada feel better. “This group of friends was formed because we all have shitty tastes in men,” Angela instructs, moving her bangs off her forehead to showcase her big eyes, wetting her lips with her drink before hissing. “You remember my ex Ten, Ada? Sometimes, when we slept together, I used to think he was actually getting off to the thought of himself.”

Elena actually snorts at those words, and to have elegant Elena Wang give such reaction means that it is something truly interesting. “No way!”

“Yes! He was too vain. Everything he said was amen.” Angela raises her hands in the air, sighing deeply. “I was saved the day he decided to break up with me.”

She turns to the quiet woman to the side, Shishi’s platinum hair cascading down her back, her thick eyeliner definitely something outstanding about her. “What about you, Shishi?”

“I broke up with someone not too long ago…” The quiet woman says, though the entire table already knows about that.

Yifei groans. “Come on, Shishi, let it out!”

“Fencer asshole.” Shishi, who rarely cusses, lets it out in the air, wrapping her hand snugly around her fork. “Xiao Dejun liked every woman who had good makeup skills. Wear red lipstick and you’re ready to get on his good list.”

Someone lifts their gaze from her phone—Bingbing, happily in a relationship for the last two years, lover of men with smart mouths to carry on with her perfect texting skills. “Can I talk shit about my ex, too?”

“Aren’t you happily married?” She questions, only to have Bingbing waving her phone in the air.

“And I’m keeping my relationship alive because of what I learned.” Bingbing replies, pushing her body forward and resting her head on her interlocked hands. “If a man is hard to decipher, he’s just not that into you. Men are simple creatures, you see.”

“Word to that!” Ada says from her spot, a hiccup following soon after. “Men are simple creatures, because they can’t be considered human.”

For a moment, silence falls around the table and she takes this time to lose herself in the taste of lettuce, tomato and onions sliced together into a perfect concoction with rosy sauce on top. Only when she takes a big bite, downing it with a bit of water, does she realize that all pair of eyes are settled on her. Fourteen eyes capturing her every move is already enough of a terrifying visual.

“What?” Her voice lifts a bit after she says those words, patting a napkin against her lips in case there is something on her lips.

Ada rolls her eyes, too much alcohol taking away her dulcet features. “Babe, tell us about your biggest heartbreak. The biggest asshole you’ve met.”

For a moment, she tries to think. The last date she had was over a year ago…and after losing her time with someone who actually didn’t want to be with her, she cut things off. Not that it hurt, just that she simply decided not to continue dating. It’s a waste of time, seriously.

“I’ve never…had anyone break my heart. If you don’t let anyone do that, it doesn’t happen.” Or so she wants to believe. She never wants to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

“Come on,” Ada replies, taking her phone out of her pocket and looking for something before turning the screen to her. “Tell me you wouldn’t fall for someone like this. You just have dated people who are not worth a heartbreak, I guess.” A golden skinned man meets her vision, and it’s the first time she has seen Yukhei. His brown hair parts naturally, the dimly lit room letting her see the curve of his plush lips, the straightness of his nose and his big, almost doe, eyes. A glint of sweat trails up his biceps as he places one hand on his head, his collarbones on full display on the picture, and though the image does not go lower, she can tell he’s shirtless.

Attractive and yet, she shrugs. “Too typically handsome. I wouldn’t consider him my type.”

“What she wants is the absolute opposite,” Elena says, already rummaging through her social media. “A goody-two-shoes who would leave everything behind for you: Qian Kun.”

This time around, she gets to see a picture directly from Instagram. This guy’s hair is darker, sporting a chef’s uniform as he lifts a tray of food up into the air. Exquisite at its finest, but he’s not bad looking in any way. Slim lips welcoming a big smile, eyes twinkling in innocence, looking too posh to ever make a mistake. “…Not bad, I like the dimple. He seems too good to break your heart, though.”

“What about an artistic guy?” Angela says from her spot, showing her own phone but from another account. This breakup must’ve been messier, she guesses. “I’m sure you’d get your heart broken by Ten. He’s just…too risqué, you fall for him without thinking.”

This man is seated on a leather couch, a camera up to his face, one of his eyes squinted but the one that is opened lets her see the cat-shaped form of them. His lips are slim, though the glimmer of his cheeks is the perfect highlight, tattoos shaping his form, his legs ones to desire. “Nah, he couldn’t break my heart even if he wanted to.”

It becomes a competition, with Shishi rushing to find the pictures she saved on her phone of her latest relationship, clinging to the side of a man in a white uniform. His eyes are an enigma, though the smile on his face is sweet, his brown hair pushed away from his face. “What about the fencer asshole, Xiao Dejun?”

“He’s okay.”

Then, Liying refreshes her memory of Liu Yangyang. Seated in between a big group of people with a smile on his face, his surroundings rich enough to point out in what kind of party he is, the suit on his body deep blue like the ocean. “What about younger guys? Maybe, she just needs someone who is reckless—”

“I’d crush his heart.” Overconfidence starts to take up on her, taking a sip of her drink. “Give me a better shot.”

Yifei, one of her latest options, pushes her phone forward. “What about Kun Hang?”

She remembers Kun Hang, and the man may be gorgeous—but his goofy ways don’t figure him out as a heartbreaker. “We’d be great friends. I doubt we’d even get together.”

“Last chance, ladies!” Bingbing stands from her seat to get over her, wrapping one arm around her shoulder before showing her the screen. This man is more simplistic, his black hair covering most of his forehead, though the prettiness of his face is not to be missed, plump lips, nicely rounded cheeks, and a look on his eyes that screams ‘boy-next-door’. “Is Dong Sicheng the kind of guy who’d break your heart?”

“Girls,” She says, pushing Bingbing’s phone away before chuckling. “You just give people the power to hurt you. I could make any of these men cry for me if I just put my mind into it. Heartbreak is mental, no matter how much people try to say it isn’t.”

Shishi deadpans, then. “Break one of their hearts and we’ll believe you.”

Ada must have seen a goddess right at that moment, with wings and promises that have her widening her eyes and smacking her hands against the table. God, she’ll be lucky if people stop looking at them for once tonight. “Yes! You can pick someone and break their hearts, and teach us your ways!”

“I doubt this is a good idea…” Elena whispers, though Ada shakes her head.

“Raise your hand if you want her to break your ex’s heart.”

Six hands are raised, and Elena raises it with one final sigh.

It’s one of those ‘a rush in the moment’ things, when adrenaline pumps inside her body too quickly and she’s overexcited. Very rarely does someone feel like this in adulthood—as if youth and power lasts forever, so she puts one hand forward. “Put all your phones down with the pictures of the guys whose heart you want me to break, and I’ll pick someone.”

Cheers fill the air for the tale of a bad idea given by alcohol, but she feels powerful, staring at a group of men that she doesn’t know—men she should hate for breaking the hearts of those whom she loves. It shouldn’t be that difficult, right? If they were able to break her friends’ hearts, she can do the same thing.

Her hand hovers in the air, pondering, seeing, letting her mind choose who would be the easiest, who deserves it the most. A challenge, that’s what she wants—

And a smile appears on her face when she grabs certain phone.

want to pick a route? check out the masterlist

95 notes · View notes

heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

I do not have a decent title for this. I’m also not even going to bother with an image (even though I know it would generate more traffic) because I’m not going to steal someone’s shit. It’s about 3500 words, so have fun with that.

Chapter 1

Dying is not fun.

I do not know if you knew that until last night. Maybe you figured that since it was romanticized so much that it would not suck as much as it so clearly and obviously did. Maybe you dreamed of dying relatively peacefully, surrounded by your loved ones. Alas, those dreams were dashed last night when you, oh so wise Y/N, decided that you were going to try baking and forgot the most essential step; taking the thing out of the oven. You remember that night so clearly, the screams of your family begging for their lives still bouncing around in your ears like a torturous golf ball that made a habit of forcing itself into your throat, the feeling of your hair catching alight as your skin bubbled and charred, and rational thought became a foreign concept. You do not remember if you had died from a heart attack or hyperthermia or smoke inhalation, but you had a general idea that, yes, that night had been your last on Earth.

So, where the fuck are you?

You pull yourself into a sitting position, your back pressed against something hard as your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness. The air smells like rotten food and exhaust engines as you pull yourself off the concrete, looking around the alleyway that you had found yourself in. It’s small, narrow, unremarkable in every way, with graffiti covered dumpsters near the entrance. Dazed, confused, generally out of sorts, you make your way to the entrance, patting yourself down for injuries you did not seem to have.

You rub the side of your face with your hand. ‘My head is killing me.’ You slip your hand into your jacket pocket, feeling a key and a piece of paper. ‘God damn it is cold in this alley.’ You zip up your jacket, walking out into the open as you pull the note out, beginning to read.

“Dear Y/N,” you mumble as you read, “we are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into our transference program, yadda yadda yadda, whoopdeedoo…” You skim ahead of some introductory jargon before getting near to the point of the note. “From this point forward, enjoy your permanent residence at ten West.. fifteenth street… apartment number six two two… New York, New York?” You blink. ‘I… that’s not my address.’ You pull out the key. ‘Wait, hold on.’ Your eyebrows furrowed. ‘New York? Wait, I was dead, wasn’t I?’ Your eyes become unfocused. ‘I don’t live anywhere near NYC. Where am I?’ You look around for some sort of landmark, street name, anything to give you some idea of where you are.

You hear a car squeal to a stop on the street corner in front of you, snapping you out of your stupor. As identical men start climbing out of the back of the vehicle, all marching deliberately towards you, a fifteen-year-old girl, your immediate reaction is to run like hell. Unfortunately for you, apparently your speed was not comparable to that of the men who quickly apprehend you, scooping you up and dragging you kicking and screaming into a van. You hear vaguely familiar voices outside, but your focus is less on the mayhem and more on the more pressing matter of getting yourself out of the van. You pound at the door, feel for any sort of locks on the inside, something, anything to get you out of the van, still screaming your head off as you hope whoever was outside had the common sense to call nine one one. You feel your eyelids droop as your breathing slows, your voice dying as your pounding becomes less intense. You slide to you knees, eyes closing even as you mentally scream at yourself to get up, keep at it. You passed out.

You wake up laid on the floor this time, the pulsing of electricity above your head almost soothing as you open your eyes. You stagger to your feet, looking around your well-lit enclosure, pink florescent lights lining the ceiling and walls like arteries. After taking note of your new bruises and checking to see if you still have your few personal belongings—you do—you ran over to the door, eyes fixated on the mind boggling, ridiculous scene taking place in front of you.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ You back away from the slot in the door, trying to process the blatant larping headassery. You had not thought that you would honestly be able to say that, apparently, you were kidnapped by the mother fucking Kraang, yet, in some stroke of tomfuckery on behalf of whatever deity controls your universe, you have, obviously, been kidnapped by some seriously hardcore cosplayers. If nothing else, you must admire the obviously advanced set up.

You run your fingers through your hair, chuckling almost manically. “So,” you say to yourself aloud, “I got kidnapped by TMNT fanboys. Great. Fantastic, even!” You pace around the room, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I guess this makes me April O'Neil, then? Cool.” Your voice is extremely tight as you shake with intense, mostly negative emotions. “So, I’m somewhere in New York, kidnapped by the Kraang in the worst convention ever. Let me guess,” you laugh, losing your mind a little as you speak to nobody. “I’m gonna have a run in with the Teenage Fucking Ninja Turtles next, right?”

As if on que, you hear laser blasts and shinking metal. The high pitched beeping on an alarm sounded as you heard people—‘Male, teenagers… fuck my life,’— talking about power or something as their footsteps approach your room. You pound on the door. “Hey! Over here!”

You see a brown set of eyes look in through the window. Your suspicions are confirmed; ‘Definitely TMNT larping.’

“We found her,” the owner of said eyes, the one cosplaying as Donatello, calls to the others. Lasers shoot by his head as he turns to stare death in the eyes.

“We’ll hold them off. You pick the lock.” ‘Leonardo.’ You breathe a soft sigh of relief; if nothing else, you are apparently on the side of the people trying to get you out in this game. You hear footsteps going towards the firing.

“Don’t worry,” “Donatello” reassures you, voice tight with apparent anxiety, “I’ll have you out of there in a second!”

“Thanks, Donnie.” You give him a half-hearted thumbs up, trying to see what he was doing through the window. “Take your time.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

You sigh. “Look, man, I don’t know the script for the first episode by heart. You’re gonna have to cut me some slack for not being off-book.”

“Off—what?” He stares at you blankly.

You purse your lips. “I’ll explain if you let me out,” you promise. “Just pick the lock before the blue one gives you shit.”

“Oh, right! The lock!” He nods, grasping onto the logical thing you say and leaning down to start working on the alien technology. He pulls the cover off a control panel by your door, starting to fiddle with the wires.

You lean against the door, watching him work curiously. You hear the battle cries of “Michelangelo” and the toppling of robots as he works, clearly focused on his task. You zone out again. “This is some serious shit,” you mumble.

He mutters in frustration. The one dressed as Raph marches over, more impatient. “Oh for the love of—get out of my way,” he snarls, proceeding to take a very real looking sai out and stabbing the panel with a very in-character ferocity. You almost feel the urge to applaud the acting, and you might if this weren’t such a high stakes situation.

The door in front of you and behind you open at the same time and, deciding against getting captured again—you remember something about hanging from a helicopter in that scenario and you want nothing to do with that—you run alongside the turtles like your life depends on it, stumbling to a halt once you reach outside and slamming the doors closed behind you, blocking it with your back.

Your feet scramble to gain some traction on the cement. “Donnie,” you snap, almost impressed by the force used to pound against the doors, “put your staff in the handles of the door. We gotta go ASAP.”

“Wait, hold up.” The one dressed as Raph jabs his thumb towards you. “How do you know his name?”

You groan. “For fucks- it’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, not fucking Happy Sugar Life. Get the thing in the thing before the vine thing kills us!”

“The what?” Donnie and Raph seem much more confused than before, staring at you inquisitively and angrily respectively.

“Uh, guys?” Mikey pointed. “I think she means that vine thing.”

From the shadows emerges a towering creature made of plant life, its vinelike limbs draping across the ground like roots as it rears its ugly head. Its exposed, pulsating heart pressed against what remains of the creature’s ribcage. “You did this to me,” It growls. “Now you’re going to pay!”

“It’s-“

You cut Leo off. “Snake guy. Mutated into a weed. If you wanna kill it, go for the heart.”

He looked back at you, joining the other two pairs of piercing stares. “Cut that out.”

“Then don’t monologue and kill it before it has mobility!”

“On it.” Raph charges at its lumbering form, and within moments, it falls to the ground in a heap.

The pounding against the door is getting more intense. “Donnie! Staff!”

“Right!” He runs over, sliding his staff in between the door handles.

You stumble forward, the pounding already starting to crack the wood. “Alright, now we can leave.” Without waiting for the others, you sprint away from the building like your life depends on it. The others, clearly confused, follow.

You got a fair few city blocks away before you slow down, breathing heavy and palms stamped with the outline of the key you were holding desperately onto. “You run really fast for cosplayers,” you pant, “with all the- the paint and all.”

“Yeah, about that.” Donatello stops next to you, a thousand questions apparently swimming around in his head. “How do you know our names?” His mouth moves a mile a minute. “How did you know the weakness of that vine creature? What do you mean, cosplay? Who are you? Who were they?”

You cut him off. “One question at a time, hot stuff. Deep breathes.”

His pupils dilate. “H-hot stuff?”

Leo cuts in. “How did you know what we were—uh—cosplaying?” he asks tentatively.

“Odd time to cut the act, but alright.” Your heart rate lowers to a decent pace as your mind still struggles to comprehend what had just happened. You slow your breathing. “I mean,” you explain, gesturing with your hands, “it’s TMNT. It’s iconic.”

“Iconic?” He nods. “Well, since you know so much about it, then why don’t we test your knowledge? To see if you’re a real fan..”

“Y-you think I’m hot?”

“I don’t see the point, but I’m down.” You shrug, deciding to ignore the melting turtle for a second. “Shoot.”

He thinks for a moment. “Who’s the main character?”

You shrug. “You four, I guess.”

Mikey jumped in. “What’s the theme song?”

“Gonna have to be more specific there, buddy.”

“Is it really a great idea to just talk out here in the open?” Raph crossed his arms across his front.

“Probably not.” You look around. “Unless you have a map on you, I’d suggest we go back to your lair.”

“Our—what kind of stalker—”

“Look, honey,” you sigh, “if we’re going to go over every aspect of their lives that I know about we’re going to be here for a long time. For our purposes, just assume I know everything I need to know, and if you’re curious about specifics, we’ll go on a case-by-case basis.” You start walking down the sidewalk. “I’m guessing you guys hang out in the sewer, right?” You feel almost tempted to say that they’re just flat out psychotic, their blatant conviction in their own characters almost frightening. ‘I’ve heard of kinning,’ you think, pulling up a manhole cover you see at the end of an alley and wincing at the smell, ‘but this is ridiculous.’ You blink at the surprising lack of weight.

“Yeah.” Mikey—no, the Michelangelo cosplayer—walked over, already hopping in. “Our show must be super popular, right? Who’s the favorite character? How long have we been running?”

“Oh, you guys are—” You stop talking. “Wait, what year is it?” You start climbing down.

“Two thousand and twelve. Why?”

You step off the ladder, starting to walk behind him as he lead the way. “Well, it’s not tweny twelve where I’m from. It’s twenty twenty.”

“Wait, hold up.” He turns around to face you as he walks. “You’re from the future? That is so freakin awesome!”

You rub the back of your neck, trying to ignore the smell. “I mean,” you confess, “being from the future would be cooler if I was from a better time, I think.” ‘I wonder where they—’ You shake your head. “But, If we were running on the same time, I’d only be seven, I think, so it’s pretty cool I get to be here, I guess.”

“Dude, totally!” He turns a corner. “Our first day up top and we meet a time traveler?”

“Technically,” a voice from behind you makes you jump, “if what she’s saying is true, she somehow also knows interdimensional travel as well.”

‘Mother fucking ninj—cosplayers, focus. Don’t let them pull you in too.’ “Well, I really wouldn’t say—”

“Guys, is there not a clearly bigger concern on our hands?” You were already getting sick of not hearing footsteps. “Like, say, I don’t know, the fact she’s claiming we’re fictional characters?”

“Look, man,” you roll your eyes, “I already said I’m more than happy to answer any questions I can. In fact,” you continued, stopping in your tracks as you stared the red—clad turtle in the eye, “I’ll even stay put until we sort this whole situation out.”

“Fine by me.” Leo and Raph both face you, eyes boring into your soul as you stand there awkwardly.

“Let’s start off with the basics.” Leo’s tone is awfully light compared to his blatant skepticism. “What is everyone’s name?”

You force yourself not to roll your eyes again. “You’re all Hamatos.” You point at the tall one with the gap in his teeth. “That one’s Donatello, the yellow one next to him is Michelangelo, you,” you point at the red one with the broader shoulders, “are Raphael, and the sensei appointed leader is Leonardo. Easy.”

Leonardo nods. “Okay, you got the easy one.” It is at times like these when you wish you could read people. “What are we?”

“Teenage mutant ninja turtles.” You don’t have to hesitate.

“How did we become the way we are?”

“Splinter had a Kraang run in and you got ooze on you. Last thing you touched before you transformed was a person, so you became turtle/human hybrids.” You rest a hand on your hip. “Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

A sea of blank faces face you. “Wait, you know who those things are?” Donatello is the first to speak after a pregnant pause.

“Well, yeah.” You shrug, the reality of the situation not yet dawning on you. “They almost take over the world in at least two season finales.

“They what?”

“Yeah.” You stick your hands in your pockets, fingering the key and note, confused by their apparent horror. “I mean, I’m still on the season three finale, but alien invasion is this show’s bread and butter for the most part.”

“I- what?” Raphael appears to be having a stroke. “What- bre- I- huh? What the-“

“Is he okay?” You look, completely unconcerned, at Donatello, who is swaying on his feet.

“Alien.. invasion…”

You blink, walking over to him and placing your hand on his cheek. You were surprised at the feeling of skin under your palm. ‘Not face paint..’ You look his incredibly pale face over curiously. ‘Not a mask…’ “Oh.” Your fingers slide down and off his jaw, falling slackly. “You weren’t joking, were you?”

If nothing else, he seems less concerned than he did a second ago.

Leonardo—‘The actual—hold on a minute.’—grabs your shoulder. “This isn’t a joke.” His face is stone. “You’re being serious, right?”

You felt blood drain out of your face. “Sadly? Yes.” You force yourself to take deep breaths so as to not pass out. “But, on the bright side,” you smiled weakly, “I can guarantee your survival for at least a few months.”

“What do you mean a few months?” Raphael is shaking as he yells, his voice roar echoing in the enclosed space. “How is it only—what the hell?”

“The show only ran over the course of an in-universe year.” You fight to keep your voice steady as dread seizes your throat. “I don’t know what happens after the year is up, or if it even lasts the whole year.”

“So we have less than twelve months to live?”

“This is so not cool.” Michelangelo is having a bit of a mental breakdown. “So, so not cool.”

“Hey, it’s not a guarantee!” You put your hands up reassuringly. “That’s just how long the show runs. Besides, it’s a kid’s show. There’s no way they’d kill off the main characters.”

“The hell they—who the hell is they?”

“Nickelodeon.”

“What the fuck is Nickelodeon?”

You groan. “Look, I’m just saying that you four are definitely going to survive the next few months!” Your voice rises easily to his volume. “I don’t know what happens after those months are up! I haven’t gotten to that point!”

“Why the hell not?”

You ran your fingers through your hair, laughing incredulously. “What, do you think I knew I was going to meet the IRL Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and had a chance to plan accordingly? No!” You throw your hands up in the air. “I died last night and now I’m here! Hell, I don’t even know where the fuck I’m going to go, fuck knowing who’s going to get the fucking axe between now and the series finale!”

“Will you two both cut it out?” Leo snapped, shutting you two up.

You put your hands up, still fuming and glaring at Raphael. He responds in kind.

“What’s your name?” He looked at you.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” Your breathing slows slightly.

“Alright. Y/N, you said you’ve seen up to season three, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Meaning you know what’s going to happen in the next few months, right?”

You nod at the leader.

He thinks for a moment. “Then we need to stay in contact. If what you’re saying is true, your knowledge of our show could be extremely valuable to us.”

You rub your eyes with your hands, sighing, trying to cool down. “I can do that.” You put your hands down. “If nothing else, I’m more than happy to offer up emotional support. The next few months are going to be extremely physically and emotionally difficult for you guys.”

Donnie pipes up. “Do you have a place to stay?”

You pull out the piece of paper. “I have an address and key, but I don’t know my way around NYC.” You smile slightly at the unintentional rhyme. “Do you guys know where ten west fifteenth street—wait, it’s your guys’ first day.” You nod. “I forgot.”

“It’s alright.” Donatello is oddly quick saying that. “I-if you want, I—we can help you find it.”

You rub your arm, your previous indignance replaced with extreme embarrassment at your previous actions. “Nah, it’s alright,” you reassure him. “I’m sure I can find a map or something.”

“It’s really not safe to just wander around New York so late.”

You pause at that. “That is an extremely good point.” You nod. “Alright. But I owe you guys dinner or something for trusting me this far. Also,” you smile teasingly, “what you’re currently eating is legitimately revolting.”

“Amen to that.” Raphael, if nothing else, seems to have calmed down.

Mikey hopped in. “Oh, we just found this crazy awesome food—”

“I can order pizza,” you reassure him.

He punches the air excitedly. “Let’s go!”

“If you want, you can sleep on the couch for tonight,” Leonardo offers. “It’s going to get light pretty soon, and we really shouldn’t be seen.”

You shrug. “Works for me.

As you follow the teenagers down the sewer, conversating as you walk, you take a moment to reflect on all that has happened so far. A part of you, oddly enough, is almost excited by the prospect of spending time with these guys. But a stronger, darker part reminds you sweetly of the dangers you knew lay ahead.

You close your eyes. ‘I’m never going to see my family again, am I?’

How that is the least of your worries, you don’t know.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 2

79 notes · View notes

blushing-starker · 3 years

Note

starker + 9 🥺

Peter's doing it again. Trying to merge with Tony, fuse their bodies together even when the boy knows it isn't possible unless several bones are tossed away. But it's his boyfriend. Peter doesn't stop attempting something unless a freight train knocks him out. There are, unfortunately, no trains in the tower.

He's kidding.

(He's not, Tony's got a pointy elbow digging into a stomach a bit too fleshy for his liking, skinny knees knocking harshly against his own and fluffy hair up to his nose. He loves the kid, he does. But these cuddle sessions are leaving purple bruises every time Pete forgets his strength and squeezes Tony lovingly.

It's cute.

He's dying.)

The screen flashes, sunset orange assaulting them as the Manda(d)lorian blows up what looks like the alien monster Thanos stored his troops in. Peter, a painful blessing, wiggles even closer to provide comfort and chase away horrible memories he's too young to have. It's one of the only reasons Tony's thankful for the age difference; Peter was too busy enjoying his childhood with May and Ben to really focus on the demons that haunted the concrete jungle and, years later, the billionaire's nights.

A stray curl of brown hair goes into Tony's mouth, now Pete's in his lap and Jesus, he needs to exercise with Rhodey if the kid can so easily get him winded. It's ridiculous, Pete can't be much more than a hundred and twenty pounds when he's wet but his chest still heaves like the time he and honey bear had to sprint through the whole MIT campus so they wouldn't be late for a final test.

Maybe he's just tired from playing with Morguna yesterday? Yeah, that makes a lot more sense than his spiderling exhausting Tony so suddenly when just two days ago he pinned Peter to the wall and-

Sniffling. There's sniffling. His shirt is wet, tremors are wracking Peter's blanket covered body and what the hell happened, no enemy is near, nobody died and his boyfriend didn't mention anything bad getting him down at school. Oh god, is his lover hurt? No, no, Friday would have notified Tony. He thinks about all the dates May has drilled into his head and no traumatic anniversary is even close to today.

Pete hides his face against the arc reactor for all of two nanoseconds before Tony is tugging him up like a sorrowful puppy, tucking the boy's knees on either side of his hips so Tony can properly face the creature softly sobbing.

"Hey, hey, baby, what's wrong? Are you hurt anywhere? Do you wanna shut that off, head to our room and cuddle under your fave blankets? Maybe eat breakfast at midnight? Cuz you know I can wake Sam up and he'll cook that French Toast you like. With the, you're still crying. Oh, hey. I can steal Strange's cape. There's my puppy eyed boy. Tell me what's wrong and I'll snatch it in five minutes."

He'd feel bad about negotiating, but Peter has strictly informed Tony in the past that there's no other way to get him out of his head. A cause and effect type of dynamic helps Peter rationalize; if he explains the situation, Tony can help resolve it. It's a system that always makes things bearable, brings Peter back into reality much more quickly than anything else. Unless there are puppies. Then he can skip away from internal shadows in chase of cute dogs within five seconds.

"It's just," Tony inhales deeply, mentally prepares himself for nightmares, terrible flashbacks or another bully determined to make his baby sad, "don't laugh. I'm serious about this, ok?"

That lower lip wobbles and he's ready to go, body prepared to leap off the building and hunt down any threat that's causing half of his heart to sob like this. "I promise I won't laugh at you. I would never, ever laugh at something that causes you pain, Pete. I promise I'll help in any way I can. Tell me what's wrong."

A slow inhale now so Peter can copy him and explain without being in the verge of an attack. Two, five, ten beats of his heart dedicated to calming the kid. He still burst into tears.

"You're just such a good dad, Tony." Pete crumbles, cries into his neck and what the fuck just happened? How is this his life? Something chirps from the tv and Baby Yoda runs towards his father. The exact same way Morgan ran to Tony last night.

Even if Peter dumps him because of it, he's canceling the fucking show.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, are you drunk? Or high? I'm gonna put you to bed and you will sleep until those neurons wake up again because this is the weirdest thing you've ever done. Come on, no, don't use your super strength, that's cheating."

His sweet, adorable, exhausting boyfriend shakes his head, refuses to move and Tony relents, huffs into warm hair just to be petty. "You're so soft with her, Tony, just like Mando and the baby. And it's really cute, and pure, and wholesome, ok?"

"So you're crying about it at midnight?"

"I'm a sensitive person, Mr Tin Can.

"Jesus, Pep wasn't like this when pregnant," it's a low murmur but Pete still slaps his arm, sends Tony flailing onto the floor with the kid on his lap. Definitely gonna work out with Rhodey.

"You see? This is what you do to me, Peter. Give me a heart attack and bruises. I think we're gonna invade some professor's office to fix an unfair grade and you're crying because of a green puppet."

"Hey! He's more than that, he's adorable." More sniffling. He's getting this kid a therapist.

"FIne, an adorable green puppet. I'm gonna get you waffles and the cape and access to the show if you stop giving me injuries. Now help me up, I'm pretty sure my back can't take this."

Nothing. Not a twitch. Why does Tony always fall for the stubborn ones? "I'll let you braid my hair with Morgan tomorrow, so please assist an old man, oh God." Peter heaves him up, nearly throws Tony into a wall before controlling that superhuman strength and leaving his boyfriend upside down on his shoulder.

Well, at least he isn't crying anymore.

(They watch the next episode with Morgan. They both sob on his chest, mutter something about being a wonderful father and yeah, he's happy they think that, glad he's creating a better legacy than the one he inherited but Tony's 99% sure every Avenger is wiping away tears and there isn't enough Kleenex for all of them when they wail about "pure and wholesome" relationships.

He buys the team Baby Yoda plushies. Just to calm them down.)

(Peter finds one hidden away in the closet and grins because his boyfriend is as much of a dork as he is.)

#peter parker #tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #starker #peter x tony #ironspider #my writing #baby yoda #the mandadlorian #the mandalorian #star wars #soft!starker #peters soft #tony is exasperated #morgans also soft #the whole team is soft

103 notes · View notes

alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 12

Wordcount: 3, 719 Rating: M for strong language and mature themes Warning: Implications of a panic attack and other sensitive/shocking content ahead. "See? I don't even have any goddamn organs! And I'm still alive!" "But hey, I get it. Maybe this isn't even my body. If it was, I wouldn't be alive. Maybe I'm a clone or something. A robot clone. Do you think they still kept my old body as a souvenir?" Chapter synopsis: Alfred is dying from something unknown, and the weaker his body gets, the faster his sanity wanes. You can't do anything but ease his pain as he slowly deteriorates. Fortunately, a deus ex machina arrives to save the day. The reader is referred to as she/her

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): VIRUS, Devil’s At Your Door, Glassy sky, Within. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now:

VIRUS

12 - Like tears in rain

When Alfred left to do his business, you traced a finger over your leg and continued to look towards the bathroom. He was going to reappear any second now. That was what you told yourself as you waited, impatiently, but it never happened. Instead, you heard a loud slam and your heart jumped out of your chest.

It was the sound of glass.

“... Alfred?” You called out, tone uncertain. Sliding yourself off the bed a few moments later, you walked to the door with a fearful kind of urgency. Without wasting another second, you knocked a few times. “Are you okay in there? I heard something. What happened?” He didn’t answer. There was only shuffling of feet--the rough scraping of the sole of a sandal against the tiled floor.

It was almost as if he was struggling to stand.

“Alfred, open the door!” You rose your voice in a distressed shout. Pounding your fists against the door, your pleads fell on deaf ears as he never made an effort to respond.

That alarmed you beyond compare and you resorted to thrusting your elbows against the cold and hard metal surface. “Alfred—” Your voice broke as his name fell from your lips. Bile never rose this quickly in your throat.

When the door did open, you stared wide-eyed at the man through a flurry of tears. He was so confused, disoriented even, but he was safe and sound.

But when he saw the way you looked at him, crying, his face twisted with regret. “Fuck, (F/N)!” He breathed, catching you in his arms when you launched yourself at him.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, but I’m okay—I promise. See? Now please don’t cry anymore.” Pulling away to offer a smile of reassurance, it faltered when you shook your head profusely with bitter despondency.

“I’m not stupid. I know what I heard.” A dark glare only lasted so long when your expression quickly morphed into despair. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.” Reaching out to grip onto the sleeves of his shirt, you clung onto him desperately, almost as if he’d disappear if you didn’t. Little did you know, it wasn’t far from the truth.

As if Alfred already knew this, he hung his head with a tired grin.

“To be honest, I don’t know any more about this than you do.” He shook his head, defeated. “My best guess is that I’m having particularly shitty side effects with this... Immortality thing. But that’s it. I can’t die. So I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t pay much attention to the signs he’d been seeing for the past few days. At first, he only experienced a little bit of lagging in his interface, like whenever he’d use his trusty in-built Google maps. This minor issue escalated into occasional forgetfulness, and even then, he brushed it off. But now, this mutated into something alarming.

Finding yourself in his arms again, you squeezed him in a tight embrace and screwed your eyes shut.

“That means this won’t be forever... Right?"

You wanted to believe it with every fiber of your being. But fear returned like an old friend, ravaging your being until it left nothing but paranoia in your consciousness. "I still think there’s something wrong with you..." Shaking your head as you choked out your words, he squeezed you right back.

"This won’t happen again, I’m sure of it. So don’t be so worried, okay?" Pulling away to soften his gaze on your teary one, he wiped away any moisture with a swipe of his thumb. Then, he sighed, but a small smile appeared right after. “I’ll be fine. Otherwise, who’s gonna look after you when I’m gone?”

“Don’t say that.” You deadpanned.

The truth to his words was haunting, and you couldn’t deny it. That was precisely why you hated hearing it.

“Do you care about me that much now, (F/N)?” The other grinned, his cheeks pink with content.

“Don’t ask that as if you don’t already know the answer.”

Alfred closed his eyes with a look of satisfaction. To hear you snap at him like this only pointed to one reason, and one reason only.

He'd totally grown on you. Maybe more so the other way around, but this was how things have always been. So he wasn't surprised when he was the first to feel something beyond a platonic friendship. Ironically, he was made of more metal than flesh and blood like you. But did that even mean anything anymore?

“Just wanted to hear you say it. But that’s good enough for me.” He hummed, watching a blush spread over your cheeks he himself was responsible for.

You hit his shoulder. "... Take this a little more seriously, would you?"

The blonde laughed. "I am! I was just being honest."

Neither of you noticed that you both had taken the leisure to sit on the ground. But given the circumstances, how could you possibly focus on something else? The same could be said for Alfred as he continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression.

Even then, he was pulling you in like a moth to a flame.

"You say that and yet I really can't tell what you're thinking."

"... And what if I didn't want you to?"

Whatever it was that was between you both, it couldn't be ignored. You weren't on the same page as him, but that didn't mean you wouldn't do everything in your power to save him.

He was carefree about this, but you weren't taking your chances.

Not that you could do anything to help him as his symptoms spiraled out of control. What he said would only be a one-time thing became a daily ritual. His episodes were longer. More violent. If he wasn't freezing up in the middle of the street, he was having seizures left and right until he fried his own brain.

Devil's At Your Door

You would drag his heavy body to an alleyway to wait it out. This was one of those times, but the task proved more difficult during a thunderstorm, and when heavy was more of an understatement. Not only was he made mostly out of steel, but he was well over six feet to boot, so all it took was one small puddle to slip and drop him--right onto the concrete with a thump.

In the few seconds he laid flat on the ground, he looked dead.

But a few seconds was more than enough for tears to form. They streamed endlessly down your face as you watched his, motionless and peaceful as it lay half-submerged in a murky well of water. As dark as it was, it still reflected the bright neon of the city. But the lights were anything but beautiful.

"... Sorry for dropping you." You murmured, reaching up to rub your eyes. He remained quiet. A part of you wished he said something, maybe a soft laugh going, don't worry about it. But he never did.

Bending down to sit beside him, you pulled Alfred onto your body and rested his head on your shoulder. It wasn't the freezing puddle your legs were submerged in that bothered you. Nor was it the light drizzle of rain on your face, the rumbling of thunder, or your dirty clothes sticking to your skin.

It was the feeling of him twitching in your arms, the restlessness in his uneven breaths. Something inside him was killing him. And all you could do was ease his pain while he wasted away.

Sticking your hand into his pocket, you pulled out a metal pin before lifting his tank top. Then, you inserted it into a tiny hole in his chest. You felt a pop, and a plate opened up. At least he wasn't drenched on the inside. But the water was a bad sign nevertheless, especially when he wasn't filtering it out like he normally did.

With whatever areas of your clothes that were still dry, you rubbed the inside of his torso vigorously. Then, you carefully removed detachable parts to wipe them as well. So there you sat, and hoped, unscrewing plates and reattaching them with his trusty screwdriver for ten minutes before he began to stir.

It was easily the longest ten minutes of your life. When he laid there, unable to process a single coherent thought, you had to wonder if this would be the last time. What if he never woke up? What if your father's men found him out here, and did away with him while he was so vulnerable?

The fear for his dwindling life chipped away at your sanity faster than you could deal. But every time he woke up, he put a stopper on your waning senses. A cough was heard and you stopped your movements abruptly. "... Pervert." He cracked his eyes open into thin slits as a tired grin stretched at his lips.

But you couldn't humor his comment as bile rose in your throat.

"I thought you weren't gonna wake up again." Your lips trembled in a frown. Working quickly to put him together, you pulled his top down and leaned down to hug him. "Thank god... We need to get you out of the rain. I know that much."

You helped him up slowly and slung his arm around your shoulder. "Yeah. You know more about this dinosaur than me." He furrowed his brows together and managed a sheepish smile. "If you didn't dry me up, I could've shocked myself to death. That would've been kinda embarrassing."

"Oh, shush. You know I'd never let that happen." Taking slow and steady steps, you both moved out of the alleyway and onto the street. The downpour just got heavier, so you kept your head down and ran to the closest shelter available--the outside of an upgrade store.

And as you stood there, waiting, you heard him say something you would never forget.

"... Even if you didn't, I'm still... Probably gonna die anyway." He laughed dryly. Misery shook his voice, and it manifested in the form of tears that rolled down his face. When you saw them, you almost couldn't tell as droplets of rain had dotted his skin. But he gave you no chance to process the fact he was crying when he continued.

"I'm being killed by something inside. It's not a disease. It's like... A virus." He dug a hand through his hair, and his eyes widened with a manic kind of sadness. "Ha! I'm about to die the most unnatural death. And to think I used to believe I was still a human."

"But you are." You forced out, swallowing thickly as an intense wave of grief washed over you. Then, you shook your head at him. "What I said when I met you was stupid. I didn't know who you were. I was scared. You're scared. I can tell. But don't tell me you're not human after everything you've done."

He wanted to believe you with every damn fiber of his being. He did. He really did. But he just couldn't. Not while his vision glitched so that he could barely see your face. And not while his ears blared with static to render him deaf. "... I'm not what you think I am."

Gritting his teeth so hard, veins popped around his neck and his left eye shattered.

"Alfred, stop!"

What was left of it was a bright blue light in his eye socket.

"Look at me." He breathed shakily. "I'm not even a fucking cyborg. Nothing about me is natural. Can't you see?"

He forced his chest plate open, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop him from pulling it off its hinges. Landing on the wet sidewalk in a clatter, you struggled to keep his hand still as he tore away one part after the other. "I've opened myself up before. I pulled everything out. There's nothing inside but metal and plastic."

But it was true. It became apparent when he pulled himself apart and gutted himself. You stood no chance against his inhumane strength, so he ripped everything out until he was reduced to nothing but a hollow shell.

"See? I don't even have any goddamn organs! And I'm still alive!" Alfred screamed with a face full of tears, but you were just as much of a mess as you sobbed wretchedly. "But hey, I get it. Maybe this isn't even my body. If it was, I wouldn't be alive. Maybe I'm a clone or something. A robot clone. Do you think they still kept my old body as a souvenir?"

He emptied himself as he spoke through crazed laughs, tossing his insides onto the street without a single shred of care.

Glassy Sky

As people walked by, they stopped to stare at the unfolding altercation, but some couldn't bring themselves to give a shit. A few even stepped on his parts on accident as they brushed past. And the sight of them cracking under their feet left you more and more unstable until you stopped crying altogether.

Lowering yourself into a crouch, you covered your ears as an unpleasant concoction of panic and anxiety overwhelmed your senses. As if hot water rushed into your head, a thick mental fog slowed your thoughts to a standstill. In fact, it was so incapacitating, you never struggled when you were picked up from behind.

Even when you were placed into a stranger's car, you never made a move to get out.

Once you calmed down, you were in an entirely different location. Familiar, but different. As you studied your surroundings, you came to recognize it to be the same room you stayed in at Arthur's. And rather than laying down in bed, you were leaning against a warm body. Pressing your face into their chest, you were overwhelmed with the scent of cologne.

Allen's cologne.

Tilting your head back, a pair of striking red eyes stared down at you with the most tender gaze. "Hey. Did you miss me?" He'd said.

For the second time that day, you cried. You cried and cried until there was nothing to cry about anymore. But rather than on a fearful note, it was a happy one. You clung onto him like a lifeboat as he began to rock you gently from side to side, then whisper soft words of comfort into your ear. Allen was alive and well. And the tables had turned for him to save you.

He never thought he'd have the stroke of luck to find you and Alfred. But his sudden urge to go to the bathroom--which came from the heavy downpour--turned out to be the best damn thing that ever happened to him.

"... I gotta take a leak," Allen murmured, earning a slow nod from the man beside him. Climbing out of the vehicle, he jogged across the road. He had been mulling over going all the way to the mall a few blocks down to relieve himself, but he opted for the alleyway right across where their car was parked. When he left, he noticed a small gathering of people down the street.

"...?"

Then, someone screaming bloody murder. He would've turned away, having seen similar scenes unfold like a regular Tuesday, but it was the sobbing that followed he couldn't ignore.

The voice sounded just like yours.

In a heartbeat, he burst into a sprint and pushed his way through the crowd to the center. When he finally got to the middle, he managed to step on a random part--an enhancement of some kind--much to his confusion. Then, he lifted his head for some answers. He paled immediately at what he saw.

Alfred was standing there in all his glory, having disemboweled himself. You were presumably reacting to him doing it.

"... What in the hell?" Sweat amassed around his forehead as he processed the grotesque sight. But seeing you so distraught was more than enough to get him to spring into action. Without a moment's hesitation, he shoved all the curious onlookers away with a scowl. "Fuck off, all of you. Never seen a dude gut himself before?"

Once the group dispersed, he scooped you up with one arm while he used the other to drag Alfred away by his collar.

One frenzied car ride and nap later, you were here in Allen's arms. He had long forsaken the idea of leaving you by yourself. But that wasn't the right way to put it when he never considered it in the first place. "You're okay, (F/N). Everything's gonna be fine." He murmured, digging his hands into your hair to rub your scalp.

It was something he always did to calm you down, and like every other occasion, it worked like a miracle. Feeling his fingers massage your head was therapeutic, and you quickly settled into his chest.

"... I thought you died, you know." Tightening your grip on his white tank, your chest felt heavy as you revisited the memories. "Even if it was for a little while, I knew I went a little crazy afterward."

Allen closed his eyes and rested his chin on you. He usually would have cracked a joke on a topic like this, but he knew better. So there was no sign of mirth in his expression when he responded.

"And that's why I didn't die, sweetheart." Coiling his arms around your neck, he gave you a squeeze. Then, he opened his eyes and narrowed them into a frown. It didn't matter what he did in his life. If he somehow passed before you did, which was more likely than anything, he'd latch himself onto this world with the regret of unfinished business.

"If I died before you, I wouldn't ever forgive myself. I can't leave you alone in this... Shitty world." He pulled away just so he could press his forehead against yours. "It's just you and me. Everyone else is fucking crazy. We're the only sane ones alive."

You couldn't help but crack a smile at that. Allen always had a way with words, even if he was a bit heavy on the colorful vocabulary. In a way, he shared an affinity with Alfred who hated the world just as much as him. But rather than starting revolutions, he preferred to keep it on the down-low and make the most of what he had.

And you had to admit that you preferred the same. "... Maybe you're right. But at least we have each other."

Allen hummed.

"Uhhuh. And maybe I could take Arthur into consideration for the normal people club. He's got a good head on his shoulders."

Speaking of which, how was he going with Alfred, anyhow?

Within

As if he read your mind, he offered to take you to the medical bay. Leading you down the dimly lit halls, he pushed open the door to reveal a violent altercation taking place. Alfred, who had been sleeping off the operation, was up on his feet and causing a ruckus. He held medical scalpels in both hands as if to defend himself.

Darting his wide eyes between the two men, Arthur and another man you didn't recognize, he screamed his lungs out. "Don't come any closer! I'm armed!" Backing himself to the corner, he dropped one of the blades but kept the other firmly in his grip. And that he used to point at whoever that moved.

"Who the hell are you guys? What the fuck did you do to me?!"

What did he say?

Your face fell as you watched the scene unfold. Nothing but pure, unadulterated fear oozed from every action Alfred made. Like a caged animal, he kept his distance from everyone and everything because he simply couldn't understand what was going on.

And the longer the predicament dragged on, the clearer it became to you why he was acting up.

The Brit gave Allen a nervous side-eye.

"Allen, do something! Restrain him, I don't know! We don't have any enhancements, so one stab from that and we're done for!"

He shook his head as he made a weird look. "Wait, what dya' mean restrain him? He's just disoriented, just let him be! What if he dies?"

"Yeah, big guy! Tackle him while we try and sedate him!" The other man exclaimed, narrowly dodging a metal tray thrown his way. His copper brown hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and his eyes were almost as red as Allen's, but they were noticeably darker. "Fuck you! This is pretty much a hospital, you know? Just because we don't have uniforms doesn't mean we tried to sell your organs!"

"... Not that you even have any." He murmured that under his breath, but karma struck and another metal tray came flying his way to hit him square in the face. "Ow!"

Arthur muttered out a string of curses. "Goddammit, Allen! He's not disoriented, he has amnesia!" You tensed up all over as your suspicions were confirmed right then and there. "He doesn't know who any of us are, and he won't have any trouble killing us all when he figures out he can shoot rockets from his arms!"

"Wait, what the fu--I can do that?!"

"Uhh, no you can't!"

There was no way he couldn't remember you, right?

The thought deeply saddened you, but it was more reasonable than getting ahead of yourself. If he couldn't remember Arthur and Allen, what were the chances he'd remember you? Nevertheless, a part of you hoped he somehow did after everything you two went through.

There was only one way to find out.

"Alfred!"

Your shout echoed across the room and he turned to the source. When he saw you, he dropped his scalpel to the ground in a clatter.

His eyes went wider than dinner plates, but you had no way to gauge what he was feeling, let alone thinking. So you let him walk up to you, albeit slowly. When he managed to stand right in front of you, he attached two hands to your shoulders, the action prompting Allen to pull out his gun at light speed. Training that at the blonde's head, he curled his finger around the trigger.

But he never pulled it.

"... (F/N)?"

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #x reader #reader insert #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #aph america #america x reader #aph america x reader #alfred f jones #allen jones #2p america #2p! america x reader #2p!americaxreader #cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk fanfic #fanfiction #scifi

15 notes · View notes

arbitraryloveright · 3 years

Text

The Study of You

[Summary; Luke is a war hero, but Leia won't let him throw the rest of his life away. Forcing him to get his graduate degree he meets the mysterious man that's been appearing to him in his dreams. He's stirring up Luke's connection to the force that broke when Anakin came back to the light. The twins do some investigating, and Luke may accidentally fall in love with the cute nerdy literature professor, while he starts unveiling lies from every side.] Ch 1-8/15 can be found on my ao3 account @/CharlieDoesIt

Chapter One: Professor Djarin

A voice soft and deep pulled him. "I will figure out a way to get us out of here." He spoke. He felt sand and cool droplets of water that tasted like salt. A hand was in his own, a glove covered the warm skin. "Go, love." He felt himself say. He felt the hand slip out of his grip in its wake all he felt was cold.

---

When Luke woke from the dream his heart was raced. He grabbed at his bed to ground himself. The window above his bed allowed for sunlight to cast in, its blue tint took over space. He had dreamt of the man so often he'd begun to lose count. He half hoped it was because his connection to the force would come back, but he knew better than to get his hopes up.

He did a fairly good job to convince himself that he didn’t need it anymore. There wasn’t a need for force users when times were peaceful. The war was over for now, and Leia Organa wasn’t about to allow his life to go by. She forced him to finish school, and even then, the condition was he do it on Yavin. Luckily for him, it was one of the most beautiful planets he had ever seen.

All the greenery would have set the force on fire, hell without it Luke's body felt lifted. It wasn’t anything like Tatooine. Leia’s house was also only about a mile from the school. Luke was threatened into staying with her and Han, so he had no choice but to feel embarrassed about his lack of independence.

There was a knock on his door and then a shout to get up. “I don’t even have class today,” he groaned at her relentlessness. He threw off his comforter and walked towards the door.

“Yeah, you do,” she said her voice muffled by the door, “you have biogeochemistry today at two so we should get going at around 12.”

He swung the door open to see Leia’s smug smile. “How,” he threw his hands out. “How do you even know that?”

She shrugged, “I’m the dean,” and made her way towards the kitchen.

“That’s illegal you know,” he shouted as she turned a corner out from his line of sight.

He hit his head against the door frame, he might as well get ready for the day.

How was it barely Tuesday? His head leaned on the glass of her car window as he watched the forest pass by, he thought how much he wanted the week to be over already. He’d graduated with a Bachelor's degree why had that not been enough for his sister or even Han? Not to mention the fact that he was also a fully-fledged Jedi Knight.

Half a mile into their drive the car somewhere on the street in front of them backfired. The sound boomed in Luke's ears. It was like a flash had gone off in his mind. His heart raced, and his mind blanked out. He heaved. It felt like he was dying, and all he could see were lasers from Tie Fighters that missed him by a centimeter.

He felt a hand on his shoulder soft and present while everything else fell around him. It wasn’t enough. The world threatened to close in on him, and he was powerless against it.

When he came to, the car wasn’t moving. He was on the floor of the car, his knees pushed up against his chest, and his face was wet with tears. “Luke?” Leia whispered, scared to break him further. He sat up and forced himself to keep still, his body resisted and shook. He pulled his seat belt on and took deep breaths.

“This didn’t happen,” he whispered. It was mostly to himself until his sister opened her mouth to speak when he repeated the statement. He looked at her and used more force in his voice. She nodded resigned to do whatever her brother needed.

The after-effects of his little episode had caught up to him, once they’d reached that campus. He was drained. Somehow, he only had enough energy to make it into his sister's office and collapse onto her couch.

He woke up later than he meant to, the sun bright in his eyes. He twisted his wrist and looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to five, and his sister was nowhere to be found. He rubbed his eyes, and he didn’t realize that someone had walked in. “Hey Organa, did you…” his voice was deep and soft at the same time. Luke sat up and made eye contact with the man at the door. “You’re not Leia.”

Luke’s voice was still rough from when he slept, “Neither are you,” Luke said. His heart dropped down to his stomach when he fully took him in. His navy tie and black shirt perfectly matched the man he’d saw in his dreams. Right down to the mustache and boxy glasses. “Do you make a habit of barging into offices?”

“She usually lets me...” Before he could continue, he heard Leia's voice distantly as she apologized somewhere out in the hallway. As she walked into her room to turn in the light, she looked between the two men.

She tried to bury her worry in a typical motherly fashion. “I didn’t realize you were still in here.” Luke didn’t even need the force to see right through her facade.

“I accidentally slept in,” he sighed and smoothed over his shirt.

The intruder was still stood awkwardly off to the side. She set her bag down, as she motioned for the man to take a seat at one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Luke, this is Din Djarin head of the undergraduate Basics department.” He pushed his glasses up and put his bag beside him. He was kind of cute, but then again, he’d had months of intrusive dreams.

“Din, this is Luke Skywalker...my twin brother.” The man’s, Din’s eyes widened slightly, but he made no move to congratulate the war hero.

Before Luke could internally argue against it, his hands had pushed him off the couch. He asked if he could talk to Leia in the hallway. She closed the door tenderly behind them. “How are you?” She asked like she’d held it this whole time.

“Fine,” he said as he dodged the question, “I don’t want a strong reaction for what I’m about to say, because I still don’t exactly know what this means. So I just need you to stay calm.”

She nodded and straightened her posture as if she was bracing for a blow. “Have you ever shown me a picture of the man in your office, or do you think we’ve ever crossed paths?” She shook her head. “I’ve been seeing him in my dreams for the past couple of months.”

Her mouth twitched, it was the only sign of a reaction and besides that, she did very well to not react. “Does that mean that your connection is back?” He shook his head and she nodded again as she took it all in. “Okay, um, how about we do not get too disappointed or excited, we’ll keep monitoring it to see what happens.”

She looked up at him, a worried sparkle in her eyes gleamed. Luke knew what that meant and started to get nervous. He always knew his sister was capable of fearful acts. She shoved open the door. “Professor Djarin! Have you gotten a TA yet?” She smiled stiffly.

Din sat up, startled by the sudden intrusion. “Oh uh not yet.”

She clasped Luke’s shoulder. “Din’s TA dropped out and then disappeared to the outer rim, can you believe that?”

She sat in her chair and clapped her hands together. “Would you look at that I just found you the perfect candidate!”

#dinluke #the mandalorian #fanfic #universityau #but kind of not

27 notes · View notes

scxrlettwxtches · 4 years

Text

nobody compares to you | hwang hyunjin

Genre: fluff, slight angst, friends to enemies to lovers (yeah, crazy right?)

Warnings: none, slight swearing

Word Count: ~7.0k

Description: You loved your dance captain, you swear you did, but why he consistently paired you with Hwang Hyunjin was something you’d never understand, especially since all the two of you ever did was dance, fight, and then do it all over again.

A/N: yes, i wrote another long ass fic about how much i love hyunjin. don’t kill me. in all seriousness, one of the scenes in this story is probably one of my favorite scenes of all time, paired with a song i’ve been obsessed with recently. hope y’all enjoy! thanks again for 600 followers! <3 love y’all!

“Could you—for the love of God—stop tripping over your feet during the spin? This is the third time you’ve screwed it up.”

“Well, I’m sorry, I’m too preoccupied trying to convey the romance of the choreo when you’re stomping around like your brother just died. It’s not my fault that I’m getting distracted by your poor acting.”

“Do you know you’re a pain in the ass?” Hyunjin snapped, still holding onto your waist to keep you from falling after your misstep.

Your vision went red as your anger spiked, “Me? You’re nothing but an insufferable—“

“Alright, cut it out,” Minho finally decided it was time to interject, having been so silent for the last half hour that you had genuinely forgotten he was there, “Take ten to cool off, both of you.”

With an aggravated huff, Hyunjin backed away from you as if burned, before slinking out of the dance studio to get some water. The moment the door shut behind him, you sank to the floor, breathing heavily from over-exertion.

“Hyunjin’s right, though,” Minho said firmly, but without any of the bite that Hyunjin had earlier, “You gotta get that spin down. It’s like you don’t trust him to catch you.”

“Well, that’s partly true,” you muttered as you lay on the hardwood floor, a hand over your eyes to shield you from the bright lights of the room, “But yeah, don’t worry. I’ll get it down before the concert.”

“You better. The concert’s in two weeks, and you two won’t get as much time to rehearse starting Monday since we’ll be focusing on the group set.”

Minho was a great dance captain, you thought appreciatively after he had left the room to grab a snack. He was the reason you had joined, back when he was still a new member in middle school who didn’t want to show up to practice alone. Over time, he had broken out of that bashful shell and came out as one of the greatest dancers the crew has ever had. To say you were proud was a major understatement.

Still, there were things that you didn’t quite agree with when it came to his decision making, and one of which was his unflappable insistence on putting you and Hyunjin together for pair dances. Without fail, you and Hyunjin have done the last three winter and spring showcases. Why Minho would decide to do this was a mystery worthy of a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode, especially since he had to suffer and sit through most of your rehearsals with Hyunjin, filled with petty screaming and arguing. Sometimes you wonder if Minho just enjoyed the pain of watching the two of you have absolutely zero chemistry on and off stage.

“Are you done daydreaming?” Hyunjin’s familiar tone of annoyance grated at your ears, “It’s almost eight, and I have to study for the math test tonight.”

“What’s the point? You’ll end up peeking at Seungmin’s paper anyway,” you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the floor.

If Hyunjin heard your quiet jab, he didn’t escalate the already tense conversation. Instead he skipped to the difficult section of the choreo on his phone, and music once again filled your ears.

Let’s get this over with, you thought tiredly, and your hands found their place around Hyunjin’s neck as he pulled your waist towards him.

“How are you and Hyunjin doing? Minho hasn’t let anyone sit in on your practices, so everyone’s dying to know,” Seulgi said during a particular lunch break during the week, passing you a delicious looking strawberry.

You shrugged, “It’s the same as usual, I guess. We dance, we argue, Minho breaks the fight, we do it all over again.”

“Sounds like sexual tension to me.”

“Seulgi, I swear to God—” you growled, giving your friend a light shove as she rolled over on the grass with laughter.

“I’m serious! The whole crew’s been betting on you guys since freshman year.”

“Gee, I’m so glad our angst exists for the entertainment of the community,” you said sarcastically.

“Nothing better than a good ‘friends to enemies to lovers slow burn’.”

“I’m going to terminate your Wattpad account.”

Your friend only grinned, leaving you to your thoughts. It wasn’t a question that Hyunjin’s relationship with you was always a topic of discussion within your team. After all, you were the only two who were ever given pair dances, which had to do with Minho’s obsession with the “rare chemistry” that you two displayed. You were pretty sure the chemistry was just mutual disdain, but who were you to disobey your trustworthy dance captain?

“You guys used to get along alright, though,” Seulgi mused, “What happened?”

“High school happened,” you answered dully, “He grew snappier and so did I. We just didn’t have much in common as we got older.”

Seulgi gave a thoughtful frown, “That can’t be the only reason.”

You shrugged, falling back onto the grass as you stretched yourself out, “Well, if you can decipher what else happened, do let me know, ‘cause I have no idea.”

It made you a little sad, if you had to be honest with yourself. You didn’t like being so defensive around Hyunjin, but everything he said grated on your nerves and your self esteem. You hated the way he criticized everything that you despised about your dancing. You hated the way he picked apart your weaknesses. So, you did the thing that most naturally came to you; you fought back.

As the bell rang, you pushed yourself off the ground, leaving Seulgi behind to dawdle around in her free period, “What time’s rehearsal again?”

The girl only rolled her eyes, “Your forgetful ass is gonna get you killed one day. It’s at five.”

“Thanks,” your brain suddenly woke up as you remembered something else that was coming up today, “Oh, shit. The early decisions for NYU come out today.”

Seulgi scoffed, waving her hand dismissively, “Like you actually need to be worried. You’re one of the best dancers in the state!”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, a light tinge of pink on your cheeks, although the anxiousness in your chest only grew worse. NYU was only your early decision, but it was your top choice and one of the best dance programs in the nation. Plus, you were vying for a chance for the dual program, where you could get both an academic degree and follow your passion for dance.

“Stop moping,” Seulgi’s voice broke your thoughts as she gazed at you critically, “There’s no use worrying about it now, is there? You’ve done all you could.”

Like almost everything that came out of her mouth, it had a very valid point. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your nerves, “You’re right. Thanks, Seulgi.”

Your friend rolled her eyes, a small smiling peeking out at the corner of her lips, “Just go to class.”

It was two hours into rehearsal and you felt like complete shit. You subtly checked your phone once every five minutes, constantly reloading your emails like a madman, waiting for the words that would either make or break your future. Colleges are such dicks, you thought bitterly. It’s like they want the anxiety of waiting to kill off everyone who couldn’t handle the pressure.

You’ve caught Minho giving you a hard stare multiple times in between songs, but you were too worried to care. He’d be on your case tomorrow, you were sure. The rehearsal felt long and exhausting, the joy that you normally had as you danced was distinctly missing.

Nothing, you cursed under your breath as you slipped your phone back into the pocket of your sweats for the billionth time. The anxiety was already affecting you physically, and you found yourself chugging water like a parched woman. Even a single song was able to wind you, although you pulled through each choreography well enough that Minho didn’t openly call you out.

After what felt like far too long, your captain ended rehearsals and everyone rushed to pack up and get a decent night’s sleep. That is, except for you and Hyunjin, who had to stay behind and work on your pair dance. Not even Minho was staying behind to oversee your rehearsal this time, and you couldn’t blame him. He had his hands full creating and teaching all of you at least 30 minutes of intense choreography.

“Let’s start in five,” Hyunjin said, his voice hoarse from the exhaustion of your earlier practice, “And please stop checking your phone.”

You didn’t answer him, your mind already glued to your phone as you once again checked your inbox. In the background, you could hear Hyunjin scoff in disbelief before he left the room to get a sip of water. Your fingers slid down the screen over and over, getting the same lack of unread emails until you saw the familiar blue dot.

Your Admission Results from NYU

Your heart began pounding, your palms growing sweaty as you shakily opened the email. Every millisecond it took to load felt like a year, and you were about to pass out by the time words appeared on your screen.

Thank you for your interest in the NYU School of Dance! We have reviewed your application and were impressed by the level of talent and skill you displayed. Unfortunately, due to the vast number of applicants this year, you have not been accepted into—

Your mind went blank. The words “have not been accepted” flashed across your eyes repeatedly like a cruel joke. As you felt all the strength and all the adrenaline in your body just drain out of you, your phone slipped out of your hand and clattered to the floor. Sinking to the floor, you could barely process the pain as your body collided with the hard wood. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t feel, you couldn’t even breathe as your lungs clawed for air and—

A strong pair of arms wrapped around your body, holding you as your trembled. Instinctively, you grasped at the person’s sleeves, gripping them until your knuckles went white.

“Y/N, you’re okay,” a familiar voice spoke, rather muffled since your face was buried in their chest, “I don’t know what’s happened, but you’ll be okay.”

At that moment, it was as if something inside you snapped, and whatever was holding your tears back vanished. You sobbed into their shirt, your voice cracking as you let out all the pressure and the stress bottled up inside. The person you were holding onto tightened their embrace in return, stroking your back comfortingly and soothing your pain as best they could.

They smell nice, you thought vaguely, still feeling the aftershocks of your breakdown. It was kind of familiar too, the way their hands felt around you like they were meant to be there. Funny, because it almost feels like—

“Let’s go out,” Hyunjin muttered as you lifted your head to see who was comforting you, “We can skip practice today.”

“But, Minho’s gonna—“

“Minho would understand,” he said firmly, helping you get back on your feet. His arm was still positioned around your back, as if making sure he’d catch you if you collapsed. Gently sitting you down on a nearby chair, he grabbed your stuff from the side of the studio, placing it neatly into your gym bag, and picked up your phone as well.

Swinging your bag over his shoulder along with his own, Hyunjin walked towards you silently, stretching out his hand. You stared incredulously at it, wondering if this was all just a strange dream because there was no way Hwang Hyunjin was offering you his hand.

Hyunjin looked embarrassed, his voice tinged with something that sounded like bitterness as he said, “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

You snapped out of your stupor, and without much consideration, slipped your hand into his. It was easier than you had imagined, although it felt different from the hundreds of times you’ve held his hand during dances. This one felt more alive, more electric somehow.

From what you could tell, Hyunjin seemed rather pleased, especially from the way his hand closed around yours. Clearing his throat, he pulled you up and glanced at the door, “Let’s get out of here.”

Nodding dumbly, you followed Hyunjin out of the dance studio, but not before turning off the lights and locking up. It was dark when you made it outside, the streetlights and the dim moon being the only sources of light.

“Where are we going?” You finally managed to ask.

Hyunjin continued to walk down the street, with you following closely after, hands still intertwined, “We’re gonna get something to eat.”

Frowning thoughtfully, you said, “You know there aren’t any good food places around the studio.”

“I know,” If the lights weren’t so dim, you could’ve swore you saw a flicker of mischievousness in your dance partner’s eyes, “That’s why we’re going somewhere else.”

As he slowed to a stop, Hyunjin turned to glance at you as he asked, “Ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”

Well, damn. It was only then that you remembered Hyunjin’s ride, a sleek black motorcycle and the envy of all his friends at school. Apparently a deal that he’d gotten at a junkyard, you could remember when the boy had spent all his free time polishing it and getting all the grime of his newfound baby. There wasn’t a day of practice that he didn’t talk about it, and you wondered how you could’ve forgotten it at all.

The boy raised an eyebrow at your lack of a response, chuckling softly, “I’ll take that as a no,” Grabbing the helmet that was strapped to one of the handles, he turned to give it to you.

“There’s only one,” you protested, “Shouldn’t you be wearing it instead?”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “Stop worrying about me. It’s weird,” he said, taking matters into his own hands and putting the helmet on you gingerly, “I’m not going to have you die on me if you fall off.”

He bent down slightly to your height, eyes focused to make sure he didn’t hurt you when he locked the strap under your chin. You could see every beautiful feature of his face, his pretty eyes and his pretty lips and his—

Calm the fuck down, you mentally slapped yourself. You felt something akin to disappointment when he backed away from you, swinging your gym bags off of his shoulder.

“Could you carry these during the ride? It would be uncomfortable for you to hold on if I carried them.”

You agreed, not thinking much of the request as Hyunjin swung his legs gracefully over the motorcycle, situation himself nicely. Starting up the engines, he turned to look at you with eyes more curious than piercing.

“Are you coming with me?”

As you sat behind him, your arms around his waist as the wind blew the hair out of your face, giving you a sense of liberation that you’ve never felt before, the answer that you’d never admit sat on the tip of your tongue.

Of course.

Sipping a vanilla milkshake across from a person that strongly disliked you was—for lack of a better term—awkward. Neither one of you spoke, Hyunjin quietly indulging in his ice cream sundae while you tried to focus on your drink and not the boy in front of you.

The cafe wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t crowded either, a suitable number of customers for a weekday at 8 pm. There was a peacefulness to the room’s ambience that you had always loved, and you wondered if Hyunjin came here because he knew this was your favorite restaurant.

“So,” Hyunjin’s voice interrupted your daydreaming, his head leaning against his arm nonchalantly, “are you going to keep staring at me like you want to tell me something, or are you actually going to tell me something?”

Your face flushed, and you realized that oh my god you were staring at Hyunjin. You immediately looked away, staring at the table like you could drill a hole in it with your eyes. You gathered up your strength and decided to fess up about you had just went through today.

“I didn’t get accepted into NYU.”

“What?” You weren’t sure whether Hyunjin’s genuinely surprised response hurt or made you feel slightly better, “B-but your application was basically flawless!”

You laughed mirthlessly, “Unfortunately, the administration didn’t think that was true, or I would’ve been crying from happiness rather than suffering a mental breakdown.”

“That’s your early, right?” Hyunjin frowned, “You still have many options to pick from.”

“Yeah, I know. But I wanted to do a double major at a strong school,” you lay your head onto the restaurant table, “And NYU was by far the strongest.”

“They’re idiots,” your partner said with an unusual savageness, “They don’t know what they missed out on. You’re the smartest person in school, and you’re one of the core dances in our studio.”

Utterly touched by the outpouring of support from Hyunjin that you haven’t heard in a long while, you managed a genuine, albeit small, smile, “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Hyunjin blinked, as if only realizing what had just slipped out of his mouth. With a light pink dusting his cheeks, he leaned back into his seat and looked away, “I wasn’t trying to make you feel better,” he grumbled, “It’s just fact.”

You knew that. Hyunjin was never one to shy away from the hard truth, displayed through his blunt criticisms and sharp comments. But that also meant that every praise came straight from his heart, and Hyunjin had just given you the biggest compliment you’ve heard in a long while.

After an awkward silence, the boy cleared his throat, obviously trying to move on from his embarrassing outburst. Leaning against the back of his chair he asked, “So what do you plan to do now? Apply to other dance programs?”

“Yeah, the one in Florida, there’s a couple abroad that I might try as well,” you answered, thinking of the blank applications that were currently sitting on your desk, untouched. You were originally betting on being accepted into your early decision school so you could just avoid any extraneous application writing, but it seemed that fate wasn’t quite on your side this time.

“Ever thought about Juilliard?”

You froze for a split second before laughing, “Of course I’ve thought about it, but it’s a little out of my league.”

“Besides,” you continued, sipping at your milkshake again, “isn’t Juilliard your top choice?”

Hyunjin looked surprised, as if he’d never expect you to pay attention to his life, “Well, yeah,” he confirmed, “I’m waiting for the pre-screening results.”

“You’ll definitely get in,” you assured him, “Didn’t the scouts at Juilliard pay a lot of attention to you during some of the boot camps? I’m sure you could just show up to the audition and they’d let you in.”

The boy across from you didn’t know what to say, but from the red on his ears and his cheeks, you could tell he was pleased. You couldn’t remember the last time you and Hyunjin have done this, sit at a diner and share a civilized conversation.

“Yeah, I really hope you’re right about that,” he said tiredly, and you knew the stress was getting to him, “There’s still time to apply, though. You should just do it.”

“You’re asking me to go to the same school as you?” Laughing, you continued, “I thought you would be dying to get away after being stuck with me for four years.”

The conversation grew quiet, and when Hyunjin’s lack of response began to grow uncomfortable, you looked to find him struggling to say something. His eyes were looking everywhere but you, and his hands couldn’t stay still on the table.

“I wouldn’t—“ he started, his doe eyes wide as he forced himself to look at you, “I don’t want to ‘get away from you.”

Blinking dumbly, your brain suffered an immediate malfunction as you attempted to process what Hyunjin had just said, “But you hate me.”

The boy had the audacity to look slightly offended, answering defensively, “I don’t hate you!”

“You criticize me any chance you get, you sneer whenever I make mistakes, you call me out during practices for no reason than to distract me—I don’t know, Hyunjin. Doesn’t that sound like hate to you?”

Your voice had risen above the accepted volume level for restaurant etiquette, but you couldn’t be bothered to see who around you was eyeing your table and who wasn’t. Glaring at Hyunjin intensely, you leaned back in your seat, waiting for your partner to make a move.

To his credit, Hyunjin looked incredibly guilty, as if thinking back to every nasty comment he’d made and regretting it, “I’m sorry,” he finally said, averting his eyes from your pointed gaze, “I never hated you. I guess I was always on your case just because—”

With a dramatic gasp, Hyunjin‘s hands flew to his mouth as if to physically trying to stop his own words. Your curiosity piqued, and you glared at him pointedly, waiting for him to complete his sentence.

“I always criticized you because I wanted you to notice me,” Hyunjin said, rather shamefully.

“You criticized me because you wanted my attention?” you repeated his words, tasting the way they felt in your mouth and coming to the conclusion that they made absolutely no sense when put together.

“No! Well—yes, but—“ Hyunjin stumbled over his words before taking a deep breath in an attempt to collect his own thoughts.

“Back when we were still...friends,” the boy hesitated on the last word, a tentative way to gauge his boundaries. When you didn’t question the term, he continued, “I always liked to be your dance partner because it felt like you genuinely liked my dancing. Then, I realized that you tended to criticize me less than other people, and I just came to assume that you didn’t think I was at a level for you to bother offering criticism to.”

You bit your lip, perturbed, “You know that’s not true, right, Hyunjin? I never thought that I was better than you in any sense.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I know, but I grew paranoid, and slowly came to the realization that you always had something to critique about my dancing if I got on your nerves.”

Frowning thoughtfully, you remembered all the times Hyunjin had ever pricked at your poor dance habits and all the times you had snapped back with some smartass response. It was true that Hyunjin always corrected himself after you said something, so maybe what he was saying did make sense.

“Okay, so I get why you were doing it before, but we’re seniors now, and you’ve won big competitions for your solo dancing, too. You can’t possibly feel inferior to me still, right?” you asked, warily eying his reaction.

“No, not anymore,” Hyunjin agreed, before chuckling softly, “Sometimes, I just tease you because I feel like that’s the only way you’d ever consider me as more than a stranger.”

Your heart lurched, and you wondered how long Hyunjin had believed that you genuinely didn’t want to be around him, just like you had believed until a couple minutes ago. Hesitantly, you reached for his hand that rested on the table. Hyunjin looked startled, but he didn’t pull away as you closed your smaller hands around his.

“I missed being your friend, Hyunjin,” you said honestly, “And I’m sorry for all the stupid shit I’ve said.”

At your words, Hyunjin put a hand over yours urgently, holding it tightly as he spoke, “I’m more at fault here,” he replied firmly, “I’m sorry I never took your feelings into account.”

The silence between the two of you evolved into something much more comfortable, and neither of you made any moves to retract your hands. Instead, you merely sat there, content with the idea that neither of you hated each other as much as you had originally assumed.

Hyunjin suddenly burst into tiny giggles, “What do you think Minho’s gonna say when he finds that we’re cool again?”

“Either get incredibly angry or burst into tears,” you guessed dryly.

“I think the latter.”

“You wanna bet on it?” you smiled cheekily.

A smirk emerged on Hyunjin’s face, “Five dollars?”

“That’s lame,” you laughed, a mischievous thought popping up in your head, “How about the loser has to treat the winner to a late night meal back in this diner?”

For a moment, you feared that he wouldn’t be as interested in the idea as you were, but your partner’s eyes brightened as he spoke, “I’m in. This could be like our place!”

“Our place,” you repeated, and you found that you didn’t mind the term as much as you thought you would. It felt intimate, and as you glanced at Hyunjin’s relaxed smile, you found that you didn’t mind it at all.

“I like it.”

“Y/N, hurry up and go change!” Minho barked the moment you were offstage, still panting from the group performance, “You and Hyunjin are up in five.”

You nodded in acknowledgement before bounding back to the dressing room, taking off your bomber jacket and throwing it onto an empty chair. Your dress hung on a rack nearby, and you grabbed it quickly, heading to the bathroom to change.

“Y/N, are you here?” Seulgi’s voice sounded as she walked into the dressing room, “I’ll help you zip up.”

“Have I ever told you that I love you very much?” you asked seriously, opening the door to let your best friend into the stall.

Seulgi smirked, “I love you, too, but I won’t have you cheating on Hyunjin like that.”

“We’re not dating,” you repeated for the tenth time in two hours.

She locked the top clasp in place and pulled the zipper up all the way as she whispered in your ear, “Maybe after this dance, things will change.”

Before you could answer, Minho flung open the door, yelling at you to get backstage. Pulling off your boots from the previous set, you ran barefooted down the hall and into the dark backstage area, smoothing out your dress.

Hyunjin was already there, his hair still sweaty and his heavy stage makeup looking a little smudged. The dark hints of eye makeup and the natural pink tint on his lips made him look more alluring than ever. He was absentmindedly fanning himself with his loose white shirt, and his eyes brightened when he saw you walking over.

“You look beautiful,” was the first thing he said, smiling gently.

“You look pretty handsome yourself,” you replied, basking in the comfortable air between the two of you as Hyunjin blushed.

The lights darkened onstage, and the audience clapped and whooped. Your heart did a nervous flip; you could never break away from stage anxiety. Closing your eyes, you held your breath and tried to calm the erratic thumping of your heart.

A hand looped around your waist, and you glanced up at Hyunjin who was eyeing you with excitement.

“Don’t worry,” he said confidently, “You have me, after all!”

The sheer cheesiness of his statement caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, “I suppose I do,” you grinned, and the anxiety lightened considerably.

“Let’s do this.”

Under the cover of darkness, the two of you took your places on the stage, you at the left corner, Hyunjin on the right. Taking a deep breath, you felt your body relax as the spotlights turned on and the music began to play.

Thought I saw you at a bar last night.

Your duet with Hyunjin began, and your body moved on autopilot, conditioned by hours of practice and molded by the blood, sweat, and tears you put into your craft.

Hid in the bathroom, I just couldn’t stay high.

You curled in on yourself, following the lyrics with the choreography as you played the role of a broken-hearted girl, hopelessly in love with someone who had left her.

Cause I took so much time to reset my life, but in just one look, I’m back.

Hyunjin’s hand covered your eyes, and spun you around to face him. You could feel him close to you even though you couldn’t quite see him. When he pulled his hand from your face—for a moment—you felt your breath being taken away. The expression of Hyunjin’s face, the look of desire in his eyes, it was totally different from anything you had ever felt from him in rehearsal, and you cursed yourself for ever calling him out on his “unromantic-ness.” This boy clearly knew how to get people to fall at his feet without even saying a word.

Forgot that I could have anyone I like, but now all I remember is what we had.

Two feet on the planted on the ground, you pushed yourself off the ground with ease, barely relying on Hyunjin’s hand around your arm as support. You landed in his arms, your hands against his chest. It was closer than you’ve ever been during practice, and you wondered if Hyunjin was merely falling prey to the heat of the moment, or if he was really conscious about what he was doing.

Nobody, nobody, nobody compares to you.

Dipping you easily, your back arched as he spun you gracefully, your arms outstretched in a beautiful line. With a start, you realized that Hyunjin had mouthed the lyrics to you with a grin on his face, his head facing away from the audience so only you could see.

Somebody, somebody please help me get over you.

Lifting you back on your feet, Hyunjin reached for you as you turned away from him, covering your face with your hands as you walked out of his grasp.

‘Cause it feels like I’ve been wasting my time, in all the wrong places, with all the wrong faces.

Hyunjin crashed into you with more force and fervor than ever, hugging you from being, clutching you so tightly it felt like he never wanted to let you go. You melted into his embrace, grabbing his hands and executing the intricate hand choreography that ended with your hands on his neck and his on your face. Foreheads touching, the two of you shared secret smiles as you split apart from each other.

Nobody compares to you.

You danced in sync with Hyunjin, something that was practically a habit to you at this point. Minho had always said that your styles complemented each other perfectly, the equal and opposite of each other. Hyunjin was sharp and you were fluid, both powerful in their own right and yet blending in the most perfect way. You didn’t believe it until very recently, but you finally understood why your captain was always so determined to put you two together.

You’re once in a lifetime, better than New Year’s at midnight.

A classic overthinker, you rarely ever had a performance where you didn’t think about the audience, didn’t think about the possibility of messing up, didn’t think about how you could’ve done better. But as the light danced across Hyunjin’s face, you could only think about him.

Wanna grab on and hold tight, and I won’t let go.

Hyunjin spun you into his arms once again, your dress billowing around you in graceful wafts. He looked entranced, staring at you with such an intensity that you almost forgot that you were performing.

I hope you can hear this, ‘cause it’s your face that I miss.

Reaching up, you brushed his cheek with your fingers delicately, a detail that Minho had been telling you to incorporate for weeks but you couldn’t without bursting into laughter. This time around, it felt just right. If Hyunjin was surprised, he didn’t show it. In fact, he looked almost pleased.

It’s your lips I wanna kiss.

You were so caught up in the moment, that you almost, almost missed your dance partner taking a very surreptitious glance at your lips. It wasn’t like you blamed him, because you were certainly looking at his lips, too.

Nobody compares to you.

As the song drew to a final climax, Hyunjin and you performed that final segment of the choreography, an intricate sequence with your hands intertwined the entire time. When it finished, you and Hyunjin faced each other so closely that all you had to do was look up and your lips would’ve touched his.

The theater was silent for the longest two seconds of your life, and then the audience that you had long forgotten about burst into a roar of cheers and applause. Some people stood up and whooped, others whistled, but everyone had been completely enamored by the performance.

Hyunjin and you bowed expertly, panting heavily now that the adrenaline was fading. The moment the two of you made it backstage, you were pushed back out by a grinning Minho, who yelled at the two of you to take a second bow.

Smiling so hard, the corners of your mouth hurt, you bowed once more before turning to face your dance partner. He looked just as elated as you, and when he caught your glance, he faced you with the happiest, most beautiful expression on his face. Under the cover of the thunderous applause, you could just barely make out the words that then fell out of his mouth.

“I love you.”

The cheering drowned out, and suddenly the audience in front of you didn’t matter one bit. You must’ve looked utterly stricken, any sort of previous joy having left your face, because you saw a flash of horror pass Hyunjin’s eyes, and he turned back to the audience without waiting for you to respond.

With one final bow, your smiles considerably more strained than before, Hyunjin walked off stage quickly, not even one glance back to make sure you were following him. You ran after him, barely able to discern the look on his face as the stagelights went out to set up for the next segment.

“Wait, Hyunjin--” you grabbed his arm abruptly, trying to get his attention. Hyunjin flinched hard, looking more ashamed than ever. As you opened your mouth to talk, Seulgi burst into the backstage area.

“Y/N!” she squealed, hurling at you like a cannonball, “That was absolutely amazing, but we gotta get ready for the last number! You know that makeup is a bitch to put on.”

As the next unit performers went on stage, you realized that you only had less than five minutes to change and nail that glittery blue eye makeup. You nailed Hyunjin with the best “we will talk about this later” look, and bolted to the girl’s dressing room after Seulgi.

The rest of the performance passed without any major disasters, and your mind only thought about the three words that Hyunjin had uttered to you. Hyunjin loved you? Was that even possible?

And--if by some miracle--he wasn’t lying, did you love him?

You’ve definitely had a crush on him, that was undeniable. Especially when the two of you first met, you thought about nothing but Hyunjin for a solid three months. How kind he was, how sweet, how handsome.

As the crowd cheered and applauded, almost everyone on their feet, you glanced at Hyunjin who stood just right of the center position. Was he thinking about it, too? He didn’t look like he was. The stage lights made him look like nothing short of a god, and his eyes held that glint that only emerged when he danced, a look of triumph and utter elation.

For a shameful moment, you hated Hyunjin for what he said. Did he know what sort of turmoil he was currently putting you through? Did he know how much his words affected you, while he cluelessly basked in his spotlight?

The concert ended, congratulations were thrown around, and everyone was happy. Even in your conflicted state, you could find yourself smiling unconsciously, taking selfies with Seulgi and Lisa, giving Minho a tight hug. This was where you grew up, after all, and you were going to miss it so much when you head off to college.

As the crew all left the venue, with discussions of going to karaoke clubs in the air, you finally caught sight of Hyunjin walking alone, and decided that it was time to figure out what the fuck was going on. Sneaking up beside him, you reached up and yanked out one of his earbuds.

Startled, Hyunjin’s face of surprise morphed into one of trepidation as you asked pointedly, “Can we talk?”

His expression screamed “no,” but he didn’t answer your question. Looking away, he muttered, “What’s there to talk about?”

Oh, no. There was no way you were going to let him pretend that nothing happened, “Really? You’re just going to act like you didn’t say that you loved me after we finished our dance?”

“Could we not bring this up right now?” Hyunjin snapped, speaking louder now that the crowd had left.

You couldn’t help but flinch as you tried to keep your voice steady, “Why not? Were you just saying that to see my reaction or something?”

“What? No, I--shit,” Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, which was still damp from the concert, “I’m sorry, okay?”

Something akin to tears pricked at the corner of your eyes because of course Hyunjin didn’t mean it. Of course it was him leading you on.

“Don’t apologize,” you spoke coldly, trying to distance yourself from the situation, “We just finished a great performance with amazing chemistry, so it’s only natural that you would say something in the heat of the moment--”

“It wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing, okay?” Hyunjin interrupted you, his expression resigned, “It’s something I’ve wanted to say for years, and I knew that if I didn’t tell you right then I would never have the confidence to do it again.”

You stared at him, mind utterly blank as your heart raced, “You--you like me?”

He looked down at the ground, the glow of the streetlights illuminating a dark blush on his cheeks, “Don’t say it like you didn’t know.”

“Well, I didn’t know,” you retorted, your cheeks also unusually hot.

Hyunjin blinked, “But, literally everyone knew.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s everyone?”

“Minho, Seulgi, Lisa, ask literally anyone on the dance team,” Hyunjin said in disbelief, “Why do you think everyone was constantly teasing us?”

You could barely put words together as you spluttered, “I thought they were just being annoying!”

Hyunjin let out a giggle, “They were being annoying, but that’s only because they knew I had a biggest crush on you for the longest time,” he eyed you strangely, “Didn’t you at least have some idea when I literally told you that I only bugged you to get your attention?”

The answer was no. The very idea of Hyunjin liking you had never crossed your mind, not even once, so you could only look to the ground, blushing terribly as you tried to salvage the situation.

“Hyunjin, I--”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Looking up, you glanced at Hyunjin’s expression, a gentle smile tinged with sadness as he continued, “Please don’t feel obligated to give me an answer or whatever just because you feel bad for me. I’m relieved that I managed to tell you, but I’m perfectly content with the way things are right now.”

As he turned around to walk to his motorcycle, you could only star at his back forelornly. He was lying, you realized, because Hyunjin’s real smiles would crinkle his eyes in the most adorable way. But now, they didn’t quite reach his eyes as he turned to glance at you, trying to look more upbeat, “You don’t have a ride, right? I could take you home--”

“Don’t you want to hear about my feelings for you?” you blurted out, covering your mouth in surprise. Internally beating yourself up, you were barely able to look at Hyunjin’s now dumbfounded expression as he turned to face you completely, walking back to you slowly.

“You know,” he started hesitantly, “if this is just a cruel way for you to friendzone me after getting my hopes up, I’m actually going to be really sad.”

“I’m not going to friendzone you, Hwang Hyunjin,” you snapped, your cheeks going from warm to hot in less than a second.

His eyes widened, and he took a cautious step into your personal space, reaching for your hand as he asked doubtfully, “You’re not?”

“I like you, too,” you muttered, using your free hand to cover your face.

You could practically hear the smile in Hyunjin’s voice as he leaned closer, “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Gently, he pulled your hand away from your face, now taking both of them and pulling you closer. Foreheads almost touching, you gathered all the courage in you as you said it again.

“I like you, Hyunjin.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist as yours slid around his neck, “Are you sure?” he asked cheekily, but you could hear the doubt in his tone, “You can’t take this back. I won’t let you.”

Placing your hands on his cheeks, you looked him straight in the eye as you said with a smile, “Nobody compares to you, Hyunjin.”

“Oh my god,” he giggled, but the pink of his cheeks betrayed him, “you’re so goddamn cheesy.”

“You still love me?”

Hyunjin smiled without an ounce of doubt on his face, “I’ll always love you.”

When your lips met, the most perfect first kiss under the glow of the stars and the streetlights, you were absolutely certain that there would be nobody else you’d rather love than your dance partner, Hwang Hyunjin.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin scenarios #my fics

930 notes · View notes