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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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tsukibraun · 3 years

Text

Pragma Love; Jean Kirschtein x reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

type: series, blurb

summary: you and jean slowly develop feelings for each other over time, but you both quickly learn that love isn’t as easy as you thought

warnings: feelings of worthlessness (you get better in the end tho cause you’re a legend, obviously)

listen to: Crush- Yuna, Usher

part 1/2

read part 2 here!

Self-worth is a tricky thing. You have to know when to be humble and when to humble others. You have to be able to determine what’s just a small flaw in someone’s personality and what’s them trying to walk all over you. You have to have enough love and respect for yourself without becoming a complete narcissist. You have to know what type love you deserve and how to reject the love you don’t like. And when someone tries to challenge your worth, you have to be ready to honestly defend yourself.

This is something you’d struggled with for a long time. It wasn’t easy being able to discern people’s intentions or to come up with a reason for why they treated you the way they did. Yeah, sure, this person could just be a total jerk, or you could’ve done something to deserve the harsh treatment. Maybe you really hurt them without realizing; maybe they’re just reacting that way to defend themselves. They could be a bad person, but what if it was the other way around? You never wanted to assume anything about anyone, but in recent years you’ve learned that sometimes that’s what you have to do.

That was the first thing you noticed about Jean. You witnessed the fight he’d had with Eren in the lunchroom one night. They both retaliated back at each other, but there was something different about the way he was doing it. Eren was clearly angry and wouldn’t let someone challenge his opinions, but Jean- Jean was beyond confident. He wasn’t threatened at all by Eren or his opinions; in fact, it seemed Jean knew he was right, at least in his head, and didn’t mind letting someone know that. He was confident in himself, like he knew he’d come out as the victor; but even if he didn’t, you had a feeling he wouldn’t be too bothered by it. He seemed like the type to just be proud of making his point.

At that time, you couldn’t imagine getting into an argument like that with someone. If they disagreed with you, even if you were clearly right, you would just let it go. ‘There’s no reason to put up a fight’, you’d say, ‘they have a valid reason to think what they think’. Even if they persisted after you clearly would not retaliate, you’d either end up agreeing with them to get them off your back or just sit and take it. Confrontation wasn’t an option and must be avoided at all costs, even if you weren’t the one that started it.

That was the first thing Jean noticed about you.

You were very quiet and laid-back; you often didn’t say much when you guys were in groups. You would just sit back and listen, quietly laughing at jokes from time to time. You weren’t quiet forever, though. After a couple of months you started to open up more; not too much, but it was progress. Little by little you would start to engage in group discussion, agreeing with someone, cracking a joke, or adding to the conversation in general. He thought it was so weird. You clearly had a lot more to say but you just...didn’t. You always bit your tongue and let someone else say it, or just let the idea disappear entirely. He didn’t pester you at first, though. He wanted to see how you would come out on your own.

There was one night, though, where he was really irked by your shyness.

It was late the night before an expedition. You guys were supposed to be asleep by then, but the night before a mission is always a restless one. While some scouts were responsible enough to get some shut eye, you, Jean, Berdolt, Reiner, Mikasa, Eren, Sasha, Krista, and Ymir had other plans. All of you sat in the lunchroom, making casual conversation. It was simple things, like games you would play as kids, things you hated, funny stories from before you became scouts. Eventually, though, you began to discuss your current reality. At first it began with the EDM gear, talking about improvements, how hard it was to use, what you liked about it, etc. Then you came to the topic of Titans. Many different things were talked about here, but there was one question that made everyone tense up: If you could only save your family or fellow cadet, who should you pick?

Ymir asked this question, of course, smirking at the change in atmosphere. This was a very sensitive question for many reasons, but you didn’t think too much of it. Everyone is different with their own experiences and reasons for why or why they wouldn’t do certain things. Eren was the first to answer. “What kind of question is that? You’d save your family, obviously.” No one answered for a while, each person contemplating their answer. “Do you guys seriously have to think about this?” Eren pestered. Finally, Jean answered. “As much as I can’t stand you, Eren, I’ll have to agree with you on this one.”

Everyone else began to give their answers and it started a small debate, but you were still thinking. Jean wondered if you were just gonna sit this one out again, and honestly the idea irritated him. But to his surprise (and everyone else’s) you gave an answer. “I’d save the cadet.” Everyone went quiet and stared at you, somewhat because they were shocked you answered, and somewhat shocked of your answer. Eren in particular didn’t like it. “Are you serious? You’d pick a soldier over your own family?” The tone in his voice made you anxious, but you still decided to explain yourself.

“Well, it’s not like I don’t love my family or anything but...in most cases, the cadet is more important...in practical ways at least. I’d obviously try to save my family afterwards but-“

“How heartless are you?” He interrupted. You felt a lump form in your throat as you predicted the confrontation that was about to ensue. “How could you say that? A soldier is more important than your mother, then? Sister? Father?” You gulped, trying your best not to freak out in front of everyone. You took a couple seconds to make sure he was done before speaking again. “Well...I don’t really view you all as just soldiers,” you trailed off looking at your feet, “I do care about all of you. I don’t hold the people I care about one against the other. I care for each of them all the same.”

“So, in this certain scenario, although I would never want my family to die, saving the soldier is more practical. They’re an extra set of hands, skill, thinking ability- we all know how devastating it is to lose a soldier. Everything becomes incessantly harder. What if they were really needed for future fights? What if they were an important asset? And, if I were able to save them, they could help me possibly save my family.” You finally looked up for a second, seeing everyone’s reaction to your words. You immediately looked somewhere else so you could finish your point.

“Saving a cadet isn’t just saving them, it’s also saving the rest of us. If I were to go after my family, what other things would I miss? More Titans coming? A retreat?A change of plan? And even if I did save them, it’s another liability.” You finally looked Eren in the eyes, seeing his clenched fist and strong glare. “Unfortunately, in this world, we can’t always go after what we want. Sometimes we have to go after what we need, even if that means losing something we want. Our decisions don’t just affect us- they affect everyone.”

A long silence followed the end of your tangent. This was the most you’d ever said in one go, and they didn’t quite know how to take it. They didn’t know you had such detailed thinking, either. They shared glances with each other before some began to speak again. “You know,” Berdolt said rubbing his chin, “when you put it like that, I can see your point.”

“Yeah,” Krista agreed, “I’m not sure I would do the same thing, but I can see where you’re coming from.” Eren scoffed. “You guys are delusional. The only reason you’re agreeing with her is because you pity her.” You straightened up, palms sweating. He could be right; you saw the looks on their faces when you were done. They could just be trying to keep you from feeling dumb. Before you could say anything else, Jean came to your defense. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, cocking his head to the side and leaning forward.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Eren continued, “the girl never says anything!”

“And so what if she doesn’t,” Jean asked, “she’s not bothering you. Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t-“

“Then leave her alone,” he interrupted, “She’s allowed to have her own opinion just like the rest of us. If you’re gonna get that pissed about it, maybe you should go to sleep.” Eren quickly stood up, ready to fight with Jean again, but Mikasa quickly stopped him. You looked between the two of them not quite sure of what to do; you decided not to say anything more to Eren since you had clearly made him upset. Instead, you quietly tapped Jean’s arm and gave a quiet “Thank you.” He gave you a small smile. “Don’t mention it. You know, though,” he said leaning closer to you, “you really need to learn to stick up for yourself. You can’t be so quiet all the time or else stuff like this is gonna keep happening.” He was so close you swore he could hear your unsteady heart rate; still, you returned his word with a small smile and nod.

Ever since then, you two were close.

It wasn’t necessarily a closeness that was outwardly established between you two, it was just there. If he saw you getting anxious, depending on the situation, he would invite you over to where he was. If not, he would give you a certain look, similarly to asking if you were okay or telling you everything was okay. You sat close to each other during meals; if one of you had a smaller portion than the other, you would give a piece of your meal without saying anything. You made sure you were in eyeshot of each other, whether that be on an expedition or simple training. It wasn’t an obsessive thing, just comforting.

Being around Jean made you open up more. Slowly, you began to be okay with showing others who you were. You began to talk louder, laugh more, speak your mind (with tact, of course), and stand your ground. It wasn’t to Jean’s level, but it was there. You noticed other small differences, too. If you needed help with something, you weren’t afraid to ask for it. You could come into a conversation without overthinking it. You began to speak to other people first instead of waiting for them to speak to you. You could walk up to a group of people without feeling like you were intruding. You were able to really live, now. And it was with his help.

The more you came out of your shell, the more Jean absolutely adored you. Sometimes he would be the one to sit back and observe; he would watch you talk and laugh with everyone and be completely infatuated with you. Your laugh, your smile, your humor, your kindness, your little mannerisms; the more and more he was with you, the more he realized he was in love with you. Completely in love with you. So much so it actually started to hurt.

Although he loved being around you, knowing that any of the cadets could have a chance of sweeping you off your feet frustrated him. Since you came out, everyone noticed your charm. The boys had complimented you a couple times, to which Jean told them all to shut up. He wanted to tell you how he felt, and he eventually would, but he had no idea when. He had to use tact like you did so you wouldn’t be too shocked and reject him, but he wasn’t quite sure how. Although you two were close, he had no idea what you wanted in a guy, especially not how you’d want to be confessed to. You didn’t seem to want much from anyone, but there was a part of you he didn’t know yet; the romantic part- that part of you with anyone was completely closed off. He didn’t want to ask you, either, because it was clearly something you weren’t too comfortable talking about.

He had no idea what to do, which was a pretty rare occurrence, at least when it came to women. Either way, he was going to tell you. He just had to figure out when.

Meanwhile, you were completely ignoring your feelings for Jean. Although you were a lot more open with everyone, there were certain parts you kept from them, even from yourself. You noticed the butterflies in your stomach, a different type of longing for his presence, him popping up in your head at random times. You knew how you felt about him, but you continued to lie to yourself. “It’s nothing,” you’d say, “I’m just overthinking it.”

You’d noticed him staring at you with a certain look in his eyes; the way he’d smile at you, the way he’d purposely brush your hands together when walking by, him being more protective and watchful of you- it was little stuff, but clearly different than what it’d been before.

And you absolutely loved it.

You didn’t notice, but you began to do the same thing. Smiling at him if you saw him sleep, fussing at him if he ever got hurt, making sure he had everything he needed at all times, fixing his collar or hair when it was a mess; everyone else saw it except you.

One day you’d have to come to terms with how you felt, but until then, you’d deny the feelings every change you got.

***

uh...hi!! this is something pretty different from what i normally do 😅 i’m not too comfortable writing stuff like this but i’m trying my best! hopefully this was a nice introduction to this series. anyways, if you read all of it, thank you sm!! i can’t tell you how much i appreciate it. take care and stay safe!<333

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

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Puppet Strings. Yan Ghost Josuke x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Josuke’s temper flaring, typical yandere elements, brief alcohol mention. Word count: 3.1k

You didn’t think much of it when you saw your window wide open.

No, it wasn’t that particular moment that sent alarm bells ringing. It’s remarkable what the human mind is capable of scrounging up to justify an otherwise horrifying situation. Moving from one place to another is an exhausting effort -- you reasoned to yourself -- maybe you reopened it and forgot. That sounds perfectly plausible. Sleep came easily to you that night and all was forgotten the next morning. There were some other minor occurrences, cabinets being open, the television flickering. Nothing incriminating, nothing to worry about.

For a time, this logic worked in your best interest. The last straw was when your personal belongings started going missing. Lip glosses, shirts, and even some sketchbooks. Contacting the police served to be no help. When they asked who could hold a vendetta against you, you had no solid leads. You’d only been in Morioh a little over a month. Earning an adversary in that short a time felt unlikely, if not impossible. Classmates were interviewed, their alibis clearing them of possible suspects, the investigation stagnant. Your neighbors hadn’t seen questionable figures lurking around your home. Days went by, and a few patrols later, the police claimed there wasn’t much else they could do. There were no signs of breaking and entering, no fingerprints, no leads.

No peace of mind.

You’ve explored every logical avenue. Not knowing what to do next is the worst part, it’s what serves to frustrate you the most. Sighing, you dry your hands off, mulling over what to do next. Now that you’ve finished washing the dishes, there are no other chores to procrastinate with. Guess I better get started on that project, you think. God, but it’s so hard to focus anymore.

Without noticing it, you felt drawn to the living room. Anyone would understand, that from the stress you’ve suffered, it’s fine to take a break. A distraction from reality sounds great right about now. Your PlayStation 2, which has been collecting dust, can finally get used. The multiplayer games are bugged -- a Player 2 shows up even when you play it with yourself -- so you haven’t used it in some time. Scanning over the various game choices, you never get a chance to pick one out.

“Huh, so they released a sequel to that?” An unknown voice, masculine and lighthearted, chimes in behind you. Your immediate reaction is to whip your head back, searching for the source. Heart pounding, you realize this is exactly what you feared. That whoever was stalking you would eventually come to settle things for seeking help from law enforcement. You don’t see him, even though the voice had been close enough to assume he’s behind you. There’s no way you imagined it. Where is he?

That’s when you see him.

Whether or not it was intentional, he stands blocking your path to the kitchen, where your phone is. A young man of imposing size, easily dwarfing you. His style throws you off, it’s like he was ripped from another time. That hair… a pompadour? Narrowing your eyes, you stand from your kneeling position, preparing to hold your ground. He might be blocking your ability to call the police, but there’s still the option of running out the front door to alert your neighbors. It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, not entirely convinced. Just don’t panic.

“Who are you?” Is the first question that slips past your lips. There’s unfiltered hostility in the words, despite your hesitation to aggravate him. Your eyebrows furrow when he puts his hands up in defense. It gives an impression of mockery in an otherwise grave scenario.

“Woah, calm down there,” he lets out a nervous chuckle that further irks you. “You can call me Higashikata Josuke.”

This person -- Josuke -- is acting too casual about this. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s the source of your torment these past few weeks. How else could he be standing in your home, acting in such a deplorable manner? For your own best interest, you bite your tongue, that’s dying to hurl numerous insults his way. In contrast to his polite speech, he’s dressed like a stereotypical delinquent. Who knows what Josuke would do should you provoke him. You’ve heard rumors of rambunctious youths in the area and don’t want to test the validity of those claims.

“Alright, Higashikata-san, I’m going to ask you to leave. This is my house. If you just… leave me alone, I won’t contact the police. Alright?” You feel like your proposal is a considerate one, even if you don’t intend to follow through. Once you get to safety, like hell you’re going to let this punk get away with it, he just doesn’t need to know that yet. Josuke shifts weight from one leg to another, contemplating your words.

“I can’t do that. Besides, the same way you feel this is your house, I equally feel like it’s mine.” Josuke replies, scratching his cheek. His tone almost sounds… apologetic. As if it isn’t completely within his control to leave. You gulp when you realize your approach might not work. Maybe he’s not mentally sound? That’s the most plausible solution. Taking a deep breath, you shift to a less combative posture, still hoping to talk him down.

“Is there someone I could call? A guardian, a friend? Let’s figure this out.” You will yourself to keep each word steady to lure him in. The innocent inquiry doesn’t have the intended effect, Josuke frowning as soon as the word guardian left your lips. Shit. Was that a sensitive topic? The scowl is gone in a split second like it never existed. He takes a step closer to you and you take a step back.

“There’s not much to figure out. I’ll be honest then since I’m sure you’re freaking out right now. Which makes sense. I’d be freaking out too…” he trails off, going deep into thought. Finally, Josuke manages to choose the proper words. “How do I go about this? Alright, I’ll just come out and say it.”

“Well, to put it in simple terms, I’m dead.”

You blink. Tilting your head, you conclude that this Higashikata Josuke is not mentally well. Getting in contact with a professional is your new top priority. Josuke picks up on your hesitant body language and rushes to give credence to his claim.

“I know, crazy, isn’t it? I’m sorry about your stuff, by the way. Felt like the best way to understand my new housemate without sending you running right away. I’ll return it now,” Josuke’s demeanor doesn’t give you the impression of a liar. Still, a spirit? You don’t know what to think anymore. He sighs at the sour expression on your face. “How to prove this to you… ah, I know. Hey, check this out.”

Josuke points to the controller sitting on your couch. Not a second later, it starts levitating in the air, your jaw-dropping at the unfeasible spectacle. Josuke lets out an airy chuckle at your bewilderment. “Sorry, that was pretty lame. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“There’s… really a spirit, in my house.” You struggle to say it aloud. The people living in Morioh could be superstitious, a view you attributed to living out in the country. This paranoia, or sometimes reverence, never fell in line with your beliefs. There was no solid proof that the supernatural existed. It made for riveting local stories, for youths to gossip and movies to adapt, but the line was drawn there. A timeline plays in your head of the past few weeks. It would explain how no one in this active community spotted an intruder, or how the police never found physical evidence.

“Our house, actually.” He corrects with a beaming smile.

ii.

Maybe it’s not so bad.

Josuke, with whom you have an unusual relationship, makes for decent company in your otherwise uneventful life. You still can’t help but feel on guard around him for his earlier behavior. As he explained it, borrowing your belongings was just a way to get to know you. He apologized wholeheartedly for the stress he put on your life. It felt genuine, but an apology doesn’t make everything go away at once. Little by little, Josuke’s grown on you, worming his way into your heart. Memories and feelings fade, your first few weeks after the move are no different.

“Have you seen my red scarf anywhere?” You call out, peeking underneath your pillow. Josuke appears from thin air -- an element that took some getting used to -- helping to look around your room. One of your conditions for remaining here was that he’d show up in your room only when invited, a condition Josuke was more than happy to agree to. You guess everyone is lonely in their own way.

“It’s not over here,” Josuke yells from beneath your desk. “What do you need it for, anyway? Can’t you just turn the heater on?”

“Well, I could, but that wouldn’t do me much good. Some friends invited me to karaoke tonight, and the weather report said it’ll drop to four degrees celsius.” Feeling defeated, you plop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. Josuke leans over, popping into your line of sight. He’s lacking the trademark smile you’ve grown used to seeing. For such a minor change, it packs a punch. Josuke sulks like a kicked puppy.

“Karaoke, huh?” He mutters, more to himself than you. “My old classmates used to do stuff like that. Sounds fun.”

You sit up and cross your legs. Josuke’s tone is a longing one, wishing to fulfill a dream that can never be, visage painfully bleak. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach for the insensitive comment, not realizing he has a lot on his mind too. Josuke’s bubbly personality stood on a thin sheet of ice, ready to plunge into the depths at any moment. You wrack your mind to try and appease him.

“It really isn’t anything that exciting. I was going to say no, but they insisted. Just imagine it as a bunch of tone-deaf people drunkards belting, that’s all it is.” You console. Josuke doesn’t light up at your joke, his eyes hollow. From what you know about spirits, if they linger in this realm instead of moving onto the next, that means an obligation is holding them here. You’ve never asked Josuke why he hasn’t passed on. That leaves room for speculation, numerous hours spent ruminating over theories. Maybe he’ll tell you one day, or maybe he won’t. Either way, it’s still tragic he never got to live his life.

“Mm… guess so, yeah.” He isn’t paying attention to your words. Guilt as sharp as knives slices through you at Josuke’s gloomy mood. For a split second, you consider canceling with your friends, to stay home and cheer him up. He always loves playing games with you or just speaking over trivial matters for hours. You push the idea away. Fraternizing with a spirit on the daily isn’t enough to supply your social needs, only friends of flesh and blood can fill that role.

“Hey, I’m sorry for mentioning it. If you want to talk about--”

“No,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “Go ahead. Go live life.”

You don’t offer a rebuttal. Josuke probably needs time to think, you decide. We can talk about it later.

iii.

“What’s up?”

You lean against the wall, payphone pressed against one ear and your hand covering the other. Music blares in the background, terrible acoustics of the crowded bar making it difficult to hear the other line. One of the workers grabbed you, saying you had a call, your guesses of who it could be next to nonexistent. You scrunch your nose up when you hear Josuke’s distinct voice on the other side.

“It’s late,” you hear him say. His voice is muffled, but the exasperated tone is hard to miss. “Shouldn’t you be back by now?”

Sighing, you struggle to rationalize why Josuke’s pestering you like this. You never gave a time when you’d be home, not thinking it was necessary. “I was going to leave soon. I don’t have class in the next few days, so it’s fine.”

“It’s dangerous to be out on your own--”

“Josuke,” you deadpan, rubbing your temples. “I appreciate the concern, really, I do. But I used to live in Tokyo, remember? If I could survive the city at night, I can survive here.”

“That’s not the point here,” Josuke counters, voice dropping dangerously low. Your patience is wearing thin at his attempts to police your autonomy. It’s not his place to enforce a curfew on you. “You don’t know what kinds of danger lurks in Morioh.”

Josuke’s statement is full of bone-chilling conviction. Almost like he was speaking from firsthand experience. You take a deep breath, remembering that you’re speaking to someone who likely died in a traumatizing manner here. Maybe extending a little grace wouldn’t hurt. It’s a shame to cut the night short, but it’s not that big a deal.

“Okay, I get it. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk back home. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

Softening your voice seems to have the effect you intended. Josuke takes a second to consider, the two of you waiting in tense silence. This is the first time you’ve gone out with friends, maybe he just wasn’t sure what to make of it. You hold no intention of bending to his every whim, but this one time, you’ll offer him peace of mind. There’ll be major boundaries set up in the future.

He sighs begrudgingly. “... Right.”

iv.

This is getting ridiculous.

Josuke’s behaving no better than an entitled child, your paper-thin patience starting to give way. The circumstances you’ve been placed into were unusual enough, to begin with, but they never felt malicious, not until Josuke’s personality seemed to switch in the blink of an eye. What you can only describe as sabotage has become a regular occurrence. It perfectly parallels the problems you had upon first moving into this house, only now you know the one responsible. He’ll act none the wiser, claiming innocence in what has to be his doing.

Cut phone lines, missing shoes, personal journals disappearing into thin air, nothing has been spared. Maybe you were foolish for trusting a spirit. You’d like to have thought you were on solid terms with Josuke, your mortal mind doing its best to wrap around the otherworldly events. You’re at your wit’s end, now fully prepared to confront him on this unacceptable display. It’s a shame it came to this, you think. Confrontation is the worst.

“Josuke.”

“[First].”

The two of you sit in the living room, on opposite sides of the couch. Ever since the karaoke disaster a few weeks ago, Josuke’s attitude has taken an undesirable turn, as evidenced by how he’s acting now. Never did you imagine he could be so petty. You straighten out your posture, squaring your shoulders, and placing your hands on your lap. He stares at you with faint interest, cerulean eyes shining at your attention.

“I’ve tried my best to be understanding,” you wince at how dramatic your words are. It almost sounds like you’re breaking up with a partner. “If I did something that upset you, please just be honest about it.”

Josuke gives a nonchalant wave. “Nah, it’s not that important anymore. I recently made up my mind, so I don’t feel too concerned about it.”

There weren’t many expectations in place for this talk, but Josuke dismissing you this fast wasn’t an outcome you envisioned. It feels like a slap to the face after you spent days dreading this talk. What did “recently making up his mind” even mean? Irritation rises in your throat like bile, words snapping out before you can stop them.

“You don’t just get to be that dismissive,” you point out with a scowl. “I know what you’ve been doing. Taking my stuff again, right, Higashikata? I’m fed up with this shit. Maybe I should just move out--”

Your sentence gets cut off by the coffee table’s glass shattering. The high pitched noise makes you jump, shards flying in multiple directions on the floor. Glancing from the mess back to Josuke, you find the sight of him as a stronger cause for worry. He looks thoroughly unimpressed with your emotional outburst. Thick eyebrows knit together, his face contorting from friendly to enraged. You gulp when a sudden chill in the air sending shivers down your spine. With how friendly your relationship with him had been up to this point, you forgot to watch your tongue, the initial reverence wearing off long ago.

Josuke stands up, flaunting his towering build. Looking down at you through lidded eyes, he reaches down, and you catch a glimpse of light blue and pink. Huh? What was that? A trick of the lights, maybe? As fast as it was destroyed, you watch in awe as the pieces return to their original place. Broken glass, chips of wood, screws and all, become whole as if it was a movie playing in reverse. Is this something else a spirit can do?

“Y’know, [First],” Josuke begins with a humorless laugh. “This is great. I wasn’t sure how to do this part. Now I don’t have to worry about that, so let me cut right to the chase.”

You feel the blood draining from your face, goosebumps dotting your skin. This is wrong. Whatever he’s doing now, you can’t stand another second of it. “Josuke, you’re scaring me.”

“That’s fine by me.” He smiles. There’s a palpable thickness in the air, tension elevating as each second crawls by. Your mind trips over itself in search of a solution to this, but deep down inside, you’re filled with dread. A dread that this damage is beyond repair and that you’ve made a fatal mistake. Would screaming even help you? Could you outrun a ghost? Your heart pounders against your ribcage and you pray it isn’t Josuke who’s trying to rip it out.

“You saw that table,” Josuke points to the once destroyed furniture, now neatly put back together. He frowns at your lack of confirmation, pressing further, voice increasing in volume. “Right?”

You somehow manage to nod. Your throat and tongue are too dry to use and the room feels like it’s spinning.

“That makes this simple then,” Josuke sits back down to his spot from before and stretches his arms. “There’s a lot I’m capable of. Way more than I’ve shown you. Breaking things apart and fixing them is my specialty, but… that last part can easily be omitted.”

Josuke turns to face you, eyes peering into the depths of your soul.

“Threaten to leave me again and I won’t even bother to put you back together.”

#Josuke Higashikata #Josuke Higashitaka #josuke headcanons #josuke imagine #yandere josuke #yandere josuke higashitaka #yandere josuke x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #jjba x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere ghost x reader #my stuff #commissions

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aomineavenue · 4 years

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Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 001. the unexpected.

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ intro | the unexpected | a mother’s nightmare ↪

mia’s speaks:

Okay, so before we start the story. I’d just like to explain that this may be a slow burn kinda thing because I fully want everyone to understand yn’s point of view after she ran away six years ago. We will eventually enter Atsumu’s point of view along the story, but for now, I hope you guys like this! Let me know what you guys think!

It had been six years and to this day, it still haunts you. Well, what they say is true anyway. Everything you run away from will eventually continue to haunt you until you decide to face it head-on. Needless to say, you were feeling pretty pathetic. Six years later, and that is still what you felt to this day. Pathetically sad.

The cool air emitting from the air conditioner set up in the living room, mixed with the early morning cold winter atmosphere that engulfed most of Japan with its beautiful white coat, brushes against the patches of exposed skin causing you to shiver slightly, silently cursing to yourself for forgetting to turn the appliance off during the night before. You had awoken too early for your liking, the sun barely peeking as you left the comforts of your bed to grab a cup of coffee. You were never a morning person, only because it was the time where you were often left with your thoughts as the time slot was usually unproductive.

During such unproductive hours, your thoughts usually consumed you. If it weren't about work or the handful of people you hold close to your heart, it often leads you to thoughts of your life six years ago. You wondered what it would be like if you hadn't opted to run away from reality a few years back during your high school years. Your train of thought often wandered to countless possibilities if you had faced your problems earlier on. To you now, running away seemed almost petty. Well, sorta.

Would you have been happy? Would they have accepted things? Would you have grown apart? Would they have pushed you away?

Sadly, you'd never know. This is only because you fear the truth so you refuse to return and seek certain answers that no doubt will only lead to ultimate disaster. You fear the consequences of your actions. To simply put, you were a coward.

You move your gaze away from the hot cup of coffee on the kitchen counter over to glance out of the window from your apartment, watching the dark skies slowly fade away to signal a brand new day on the horizon, the sun painting the sky a bright calming hue. Any minute now, your friends that had decided to crash at your place during the previous night are bound to wake up. Your tiny space had become some sort of safe haven for when they needed to hide away from their own problems, or when they needed you to nurse their drunken states.

Despite it sparking irritation within yourself, you could never bring yourself to deny them. The group had been nothing but a solid help for you the past six years when you fled from Hyōgo and where you settled yourself in the comforts of your late father's best friend back in Kanagawa, Suwa Riku, reconnecting with one of your childhood friends, Suwa Reiji. The loving Suwa family accepted you with open arms, practically calling you their own despite the situation you dug yourself in. Honestly, if they had turned you away, you would have probably ended up in the gutter somewhere in Japan as you had no other place to go. It wouldn't have even shocked you if they were to turn their backs at you when you had first came knocking on their front door, practically drenched from the pouring rain, it was barely enough to conceal the tears.

However, despite the past they barely knew, they accepted you with open arms without an ounce of judgment. If they were curious, they asked politely, and if certain questions were too difficult for you to answer, they respected your need for privacy.

When you had left everything behind in Hyōgo, you wanted to forget. You had deleted your previous profiles from any sort of social media platform that you had and changed your number when you had the chance. To everyone in Hyōgo, you completely disappeared, a mere ghost that residents either often gossiped about or have completely forgotten, it wasn't as if you were well known within the community, but—still, your disappearance had quite the impact. However, since no one has found you yet in the past six years, it probably meant that your mother didn't care. You assumed the same for your handful of friends. You stayed with the Suwa Family in Kanagawa for at least a year and a half, time for yourself and to get adjusted to your new life before you convinced yourself to get a job that will lead you to a somewhat peaceful life, you needed it for support, now more so than ever. Once again, you are in debt when your childhood friend Reiji offered you a job as a manager for their group. Of course, how could you say no? Despite the busy schedule, you managed enough, sometimes giving you the ability to be flexible.

Ah, yes. Suwa Reiji, the lead singer for the famous boy band, Galaxy Standard. The two of you had been friends before you had moved to Hyōgo when you were eight years old. Despite the distance between the two of you, when your father was still around since your fathers were close friends, the two of you did keep in touch. However, as you grew older and found new friends in Hyōgo, the need to keep in touch disappeared almost instantly. Thankfully, despite years of not having any contact with each other, the two of you reconnected, happy to be back in each other's lives.

The past six years, as you tried to find yourself and finally settle independently, Reiji was there.

And despite the exhausting job of managing a boy band, you adored it. It kept you occupied. Despite the boys being famous, you opted to keep your social media platforms private, or rather secret, only your friends and a few of Galaxy Standard's fans knew of it. Although the fans knew of your existence, you wanted your personal life private and thankfully, the management and fans respected that with the help from your friends who are aware of your situation. You wanted to stay hidden. Accompanying the boys in certain events, despite being a girl where it was typical for fangirls to grow upset because of the close contact with their idols, the fans respected you and often held polite conversations with you.

Yes, despite the troubles you have, you wouldn't deny the fact that you were indeed happy, but lately, something in the back of your mind has been irking you, making you feel extremely uneasy for not knowing what it could be. It frustrated you to no end.

"Someone looks like a vein in their head might pop," you hear Reiji tease as he approached. You roll your eyes before turning your attention over to the man that intruded your thoughts. Bless him, you were slowly becoming crazy with all the thinking. However, you weren't going to praise him or anything, despite Reiji's calm and humble personality towards others, he was a completely different person towards you; often teasing, most days very playful.

You snap back playfully, "Good morning to you, too." He occupies the seat across from you, despite stumbling to your apartment the previous night completely drunk from a party, the man before you showed no sign of a hungover, you were used to it by now. "Seriously, you and Shizuma need to find some other place to crash. I don't even know how you roped him into drinking, he was absolutely thrashed when the two of you arrived. Normally, he'd be the responsible one."

"Yeah, but once he starts drinking, there's no stopping him. And Nah," he chuckles as he leans against the counter, a yawn escaping his lips as he spoke midway, "Your place is comfy but also because I get to see the cute faces of my favourite nephews almost instantly, it's a bonus."

"Uncle Reiji!"

"Where's Uncle 'zuma?"

Speaking of the little devils. Both of your attentions snaps at the two identical figures that stepped out of their shared room and into the vicinity that you and Reiji occupied.

The sight of their sleepy states warmed your heart at just how cute they have grown. Ah, yes. Your two boys. One of the two reasons why you preferred to keep your personal life, private. Of course, there was also Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro to think about. Your precious boys, your utmost priority. Everything you could ever want and more. They were the two that you could finally call home. As much as you know that your existence wouldn't be much of a big deal to the fans since you weren't entirely famous, you refused to let your boys get caught into any unnecessary drama that your friends have often got themselves into, so despite having famous uncles, you kept them shielded whenever you can. Of course, the fans of Galaxy Standard were aware of the existence of your little boys, often swooning when one of their idols were photographed with one of the twins. Needless to say, it always made the fans crazy, but you were grateful that the fans were respectful and never crossed the line whenever your boys were included.

Of course, the main reason why you wanted everything to be kept private was that you didn't want certain people to know the secret you've worked hard to stay hidden, but Japan was big, wasn't it? You often reassured yourself that it was impossible for paths to cross.

"Why are you looking for your Uncle Shizuma when I'm here?" Reiji asks, feigning hurt in his expression as both six-year-old boys approach, yawning and sleepily rubbing their eyes.

Atsuhiro, or rather Hiro, as he liked to be called sighs as he shakes his head at his uncle, "But Uncle 'zuma is the best."

"Now you take that back young man!" He scoffs as he playfully places his hands on his hips, "Who do you think raised you?"

The little boy tilts his head to the side as he watches his uncle in amusement of his antics, "Uncle 'zuma helped too! Mommy says he even helped out changing diapers which you didn't do!"

"But Uncle Reiji's the best! He always plays with us!" Atsuhiko, Hiko, retorts as he rushes over to his uncle to give him a high five, "Mommy, Uncle Rei said he's going to teach us some tricks like he did back then in Stride! Isn’t that cool?"

You send a glare towards the man that was mentioned by your son, who only avoided your gaze as he ruffles your son's hair, "Maybe something else. You can ask your uncles to teach you how to sing and dance like they always do, just not that dangerous sport."

Atsuhiko groans in protest while the other twin approaches you, wrapping his short arms around your leg, "Do you think they can teach us volleyball?"

"Oh yes!" Atsuhiko yells out happily agreeing with his twin, his dismay for his mother's earlier disapproval flying out the window as he looks at you with hope in his eyes, "Volleyball is so cool! Can we mommy?"

Almost instantly, a lump formed in the back of your throat at the mention of the mere sport, a reminder. It wasn't as if you were against the sport, but what caught you off guard was the interests your boys clearly showed. How ironic.

As you raised the two, whether at times you were alone or had help, you often pushed the twins away from certain reminders of your past. What was that? Anything that reminded you of your past in Hyōgo was pushed aside. It was rather petty, you knew that yourself but as the twin boys grew throughout the years, it didn't get unnoticed how their features screamed of the one and only Miya Atsumu. Well, you expected that—he is the father of your twin boys, but you silently prayed during your pregnancy and as you raised them that their features would come from your side of the family instead of his.

But of course, somehow you've upset the Gods for your pettiness. This was your consequence. A daily reminder. There's no denying of your love for your boys. They were your life and you wouldn't change anything because then they wouldn't exist. However, you've grown hateful of your past as years gone by. Your hatred for the awful memories had made it more difficult to forget.

You expected the interest in volleyball before they even mentioned it to you today. The clues in their shared room were enough for you to pick up that they were most likely to take after their father in a sense, not that they know of such.

Earlier, about two years prior when they first started in kindergarten, it was inevitable for such to talk about your families, you remember experiencing such back then despite it being foggy. They returned home, despite being young, they were smart for their age and bombarded you with questions without holding back; wondering about who was their father and where he was, or if Uncle Reiji or Uncle Shizuma were their fathers. Back then, you couldn't bring yourself to tell them the truth or even utter a single word about the man missing in their lives.

You experienced a whole week of silent treatment from your two boys because you refused to answer, their stubbornness hard as a rock. You refuse to answer their questions? Well, they, of course, fight back by refusing to talk to you. Oh, children, right? Of course, Reiji and Shizuma were a big help because to the twins, the two of your friends were practically the only father figures that they had. Since Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro refused to utter a word to you, they tried their best to talk to the twins, avoiding certain parts that they were too young to know about, and explained that when they grew up and they were ready to know, you would eventually let them know.

Bless the heavens because, after that, your two boys returned to their loving yet sneaky nature, never asking or mentioning about their father again. However, the majority of the conversations about their father were kept in secret between the two. Atsuhiro wanting to know more while Atsuhiko pushing the idea away, but not wanting to upset his brother, he keeps his dismay of their missing father from Atsuhiro, who grew more eager to find his father as years go by.

"What's with all the excitement at such an early hour? You two always have so much energy. What's this I hear about wanting to play volleyball?" Shizuma saves you from answering and you share a silent communication to send your gratitude for the interference.

Atsuhiro breaks out into a grin at the sight of his favourite uncle and immediately approaches him, "Uncle 'zuma, do you know how to play volleyball? Can you teach me and Hiko? Please?"

Shizuma chuckles in response, ruffling the little boy's messy locks, "I'm not that good but if you and your brother are serious about wanting to learn volleyball, I know a friend that may be of help."

"You do?" Atsuhiko asks, excitement in his voice.

You repeat, arching a brow in curiosity, "You do?"

"Well he's more of Asuma's friend than mine but we're good acquaintances," he answers with a shrug of his shoulders, "I'll see what I can do for my two favourite nephews."

"Yes!" The twins exclaim happily at the same time before running towards each other to share their routine handshake.

"Now that's settled," Reiji starts, clapping his hands together to grab the attention from everyone in the room, "Aren't you two supposed to be getting ready for your day with Grandpapa and Grandmama Suwa? You wouldn't want to keep those two waiting, I heard they have a really big day planned ahead for the two of you."

Ah, Grandpapa and Grandmama Suwa. Reiji's parents, and well—your substitute parents and the twins' substitute grandparents. Despite not being biologically related, they treated the three of you like a real family. They helped you throughout your pregnancy and at the same time raising your two boys. They did what any grandparent would do, discipline and spoil them. You wouldn't change it for the world. The love they had for your boys was overwhelming, and Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro completely adored their substitute grandparents just the same.

Atsuhiro releases a gasp from his lips at the realization of the big day, he had been excited, to say the least, rushing to get prepared whilst Atsuhiko frowns and stays rooted in where he stood, "But today's Uncle Asuma's birthday! I want to go too!"

"No can do, kiddo." Shizuma shakes his head, crossing his arms across his chest; an indication the twins are familiar with that meant it was not up for any negotiation. "You know this party isn't for little boys, your Uncle Asuma already told you this, but he promised to take both of you out tomorrow to make up for it. You and Hiro can celebrate his birthday tomorrow, I promise."

Atsuhiko releases a dramatic sigh, throwing his little hands in the air as he stomps his way to get ready, knowing that if he were to argue, he would inevitably lose. Oh well, he thought to himself, Grandpapa and Grandmama are the best anyway.

"I don't know how you do it, 'zuma." You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Those two have become spoiled to the core because of all of us, yet when it comes to you and their Grandpapa Riku, they suddenly become little angelic-slash-monsters who obey every command."

Shizuma lets a grin spread on his lips, "Some things can't be taught. Anyway, I'll get going. I have to help prep Asuma's party. I'll see you guys there."

"I'll get going too," Reiji declares as he stands up from his seat, "Don't back out of the party, I'll drag you there if I have to, I swear."

You roll your eyes at them, more so at Reiji than Shizuma, shooing them with your hands as you follow them to the front door, "Yeah, whatever. I'll be there. Stop worrying."

Dropping the twins at the Suwa Residence after eating lunch together was often smooth sailing as the twins always adored spending the day with their substitute grandparents. However, Atsuhiko expressed his dismay of being left behind once again insisting of wanting to attend his Uncle Asuma's birthday party, you had to pry his hands away from his grip on your leg. Thankfully, you had help from his Grandpapa Riku, and after waving goodbye to a smiling Atsuhiro and a scowling Atsuhiko, you were off to get a few errands done before heading to Asuma's apartment to celebrate his birthday, taking your sweet time to avoid your favourite, yet rowdy bunch of friends, only because they probably wanted you to help them set up the party, which you didn't want to take part in.

Honestly, you could have chosen otherwise but decided against skipping the errands that would most probably pile up despite the break Galaxy Standard was having. Plus, you may or may not have, forgotten to get a gift for Asuma and if you showed up empty-handed, well, you weren't going to hear the end of it.

Hours went by as you got through your list of errands, you were left with messages and certain phone calls that you ignored throughout the day, you were finally able to buy a suitable gift for your friend. All there was left to do was show up to the party that was apparently already in full swing. Thankfully, your friend's lavish apartment was around the corner.

You waited for the traffic lights to signal the safe journey across the busy streets, your grip on the neatly wrapped gift on one hand slightly tightening against you as you shiver from Japan's cool winter breeze bustling through the air, something you're still obviously not very fond of. For as long as you can remember, you hated the cold. It was a bitter reminder of the times you were utterly alone. You always preferred the warm temperature, whether it was from a fireplace or someone else, it kept you from going numb, made to remind you of reality.

The sound of your phone ringing startles you from your thoughts and you pull the device from one of your pockets, Reiji's name flashing across the screen. You grumble to yourself of his impatience before answering the call, bringing the device up to press against your ear. Before you could utter a word, he beats you to it in a demanding tone, "Where are you? You're late."

"Hold your horses, Rei." You answer in irritation as you look up ahead to check the traffic lights that still had the signal to stay where you were, "I'm almost there. Be patient." However, you couldn't process the words Reiji muttered next from the other line. Someone calling out your name catching your attention, your eyes widening slightly at the realization of who it was. Immediately, you cut off Reiji's rambling from the other line and ended the call, slipping the phone back into your pocket as you feel your shoulder tense at his presence standing next to you. "Osamu."

"So it is you," he blinks in disbelief, his eyes drinking your features bit by bit to check if he was dreaming or not, "You look different, I barely recognized you if it weren't for your voice, but it really is you."

You nod stiffly, "I suppose I would since it has been six years and all. What are you doing all the way here in Kanagawa?"

Suddenly, a memory flashes across your mind. A memory of earlier in your apartment, Shizuma mentioning a friend who knew how to play volleyball. No, it couldn't be, right?

"Ah, I'm actually checking a few spots around here for my business," he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, "So Kanagawa, huh? This is where you've been hiding all this time?"

Your lips press into a thin line, feeling uneasy under his gaze. Of course, you would, you're practically hiding a really big secret. "I'm sorry, I don't have time to chat. I have plans and my friends are already egging me on for being late."

The traffic lights save you from a painful conversation, signalling that it was safe to cross but before you could take a step away, you feel him grasp onto your shoulder to pull you back. You turned your head to face him, ready to fight him off but you halted your actions at the sign of sadness his features displayed. You took the time to examine his features, your heart practically leaping as you were able to take in everything unlike seconds ago where you were purposely trying to leave. Of course, back then when you were friends, you considered Osamu as handsome. I mean, why wouldn't you? You were practically in love with his twin brother who you found extremely handsome at the time. However, that wasn't what ran through your mind. You began thinking that Atsumu probably looked just as good, and suddenly you felt a shitload of bricks slamming right down on your shoulders, the feeling of panic surging through your veins, wondering if Atsumu was around too that you failed to notice Osamu pull out a small card from his wallet, holding it out for you to take. He seemed to read your thoughts as he spoke to reassure you, "Don't worry. He's not here, but..." He trails off, looking at you with hope in his eyes, "take this, it has my number on it. When you're ready, I'm here to listen. I always have been. I want to know what you've been up to. I want to catch up."

At Osamu's reassurance, you feel your shoulders slowly relax as you take the card from him, your eyes scanning the printed numbers and words, Ongiri Miya, making you realize that he hadn't pursued Volleyball like his twin often rambled on. You flicker your gaze up to meet his once more and he gives you a small smile. You slowly nod as you slip the card into one of your back pockets, "I have to go."

He watches you leave, the smile he had instantly morphed into a frown as he watches you walk away once more and eventually disappear from his line of sight. He silently prayed that you would contact him when you could, wanting to reconnect with you after all these years, to know why you left. He promises to himself that when you do decide to reach out, that you wouldn't mention anything to his idiot brother.

He noted the shift of your body, how your shoulders relaxed at the mention of someone not being around, he knew that you had thought about his brother. And it only confirmed his suspicion of you leaving because of what his brother had done six years ago, the last day people saw you in Hyōgo. However, something still was missing, he still craved an answer. You couldn't have left just because of Atsumu's actions. So what was it?

Either way, he was determined to find out. You may have not known it then, but Osamu cared about you a lot. However, due to you being blinded by his twin brother's light, you failed to notice. He wasn't going to let you go this time, he'll find a way to get you back in his life. His phone blares his ringtone, snapping him out of his thoughts. As he brings his phone up, he grumbles underneath his breath at the sight of his brother's incoming call. Speak of the devil.

"What is it?"

He hears his brother whine from the other line, "Can't I just call my brother once in a while?"

"You only ever do that when you're in trouble or need something," he retorts with a roll of his eyes.

Atsumu laughs in response, "How'd the shop searching go? Anything interesting so far? When you coming back?"

"Hold up, what's with the questions?" He laughs at the sound of his brother's enthusiasm. It's true, they often disagreed with each other but when it came to supporting each other's passion, they were always there for the other. He shifts his gaze over to where you stood moments ago, a smile ghosting his lips at the memory of the brief conversation the two of you shared. "Yeah, maybe something interesting here in Kanagawa after all." He listens to his brother speak excitedly over the phone causing him to shake his head at the ridiculous tone. "Oh? He's here? Maybe I can hit him up..."

After the encounter with Osamu, you practically quickened your pace to Asuma's apartment, your heart beating erratically. You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until you were gasping for air. Luckily, the majority of Asuma's guests were preoccupied that they hadn't noticed your entrance. You were sure you looked embarrassing looking extremely flustered.

You hear your name being called and as soon as you caught your breath, you notice Shizuma calling you over, Asuma and Reiji along with someone you seem to recognize but can’t seem place in your mind. Walking over, your lips curl up to a small smile as you extend your arm to hand over Asuma's gift, "Happy Birthday, 'suma. Here's my gift."

Asuma's eyes instantly light up, retrieving the gift from you, "I was going to get mad at you for being late but since you have a gift for me, I'll let it slide. Did the boys pick this for me?"

"Gee, aren't I lucky." You drawl sarcastically, a laugh being shared within the group as you shake your head, "No, you think those two would let me give them your gift? They said they'll give it to you tomorrow when you take them out. Hiko was upset when I left him with his Grandpapa Riku, though. He had this cute little scowl." Your three friends laugh, imagining their nephew in their heads. You flicker your attention over to the person who was watching you interact with the others with amusement, you smile at him politely. "I'm sorry. How rude of me."

"Oh, right!" Shizuma speaks as soon as your name slips out of your mouth to introduce yourself, holding out your hand for a shake which he grabs, "This is the friend I was talking about that can teach the boys volleyball."

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" He starts with a grin as he shakes your hand firmly, his enthusiasm infectious. Releasing his grip on your hand, he sends a little wave, "Bokuto Koutarou I'm a friend of Asuma's. Shizuma here was just telling me about your boys and how they were interested in volleyball and I wouldn't mind helping them out."

Asuma adds, "He's a professional volleyball player for Japan's V.League in Division 1. MSBY Black Jackals was it?"

You watch as the man who you thought kind of resembled a horned owl nod his head towards Asuma's direction, something about him oddly familiar. You hum along, eyes widening slightly at the information. "Professional? Wow, colour me impressed. Wouldn't you be too busy to train two six-year-olds, then?"

"I'll speak for everyone who knows her two boys that they're absolute devils," Reiji chuckles with a shake of his head, "Fast learners though. We'd teach them how to run like in Stride if we could but their mother over here refuses."

You scoff, "Because that sport can be dangerous!"

"Stride, huh?" Bokuto butts in, interested. "But yes, I have some time to teach. I'm sure they'll be okay. I owe Asuma anyway. I don't mind."

The corners of your mouth twitch to an unsure smile. You didn't know if you were going to go through with this if you were honest, but it isn't exactly something you can reject as your three other friends were present, and they would do anything for their favourite set of twins, spoiled rotten those two were.

"Don't worry," Shizuma claims, nudging you with his elbow as he gives you a reassuring smile, "They'll be in good hands, one of us will find the time to attend their little training. We're not as busy lately due to our little holiday anyway."

You hum softly as you continue to examine Bokuto under your gaze before something in your mind clicks, eyes widening ever so slightly. “I think I know you! Weren’t you at the Christmas Party last year that Reiji held?”

He nods with a grin, “I was actually. Asuma invited me and I went along with a couple of friends. Funny how we’ve crossed paths before and yet we’re only meeting now, ay?”

“Ah, yeah. I think I remember now, sort of.” you laugh, nodding your head in agreement, “That party was crazy anyway. I don’t think anyone wants to remember that crazy night. Especially Reiji.”

The man mentioned scoffs, rolling his eyes. “That’s why whenever I plan parties it’s never at my place anymore.” He shudders at the memory, “Drunk bastards doing the nasty at my place. And that model’s awful moaning could be heard even when the music was blasting.”

You scrunch up your face in disgust, “Thankfully I left early then,”

An awkward laugh escapes Bokuto’s lips as he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah about that...”

“That was you?” you and Asuma let out a gasp, eyes widening while Shizuma bursts out laughing. Reiji on the other hand, obviously not amused at the information.

“Dude, what the heck!” Reiji exclaims, brows furrowing, “The least you could have done was choose a guest bedroom rather than on my own bed!”

“Oy!” he laughs, holding his hands out, “I didn’t say it was me. I was just saying I know who it was. It was one of my friends, but I’d rather not say who.”

Asuma joins his older brother Shizuma in laughing at the side while you try your best to calm down Reiji by tugging on his arm. “Anyway, Bokuto. I think we should talk about the schedule of your training with my boys. I’m sure they’ll be excited when they find out someone will be training them volleyball.”

Somehow, a part of you was screaming at you, telling you that this wasn't going to end well. Of course, you didn't realize at the time that you would come to regret such a decision, not like you had any say against it either. Your little boys were spoiled rotten and often got their way whether through innocent means or their sneaky tactics. It didn't help that their group of uncles were wrapped around their little fingers.

Ah, yes. You hadn't realized it yet, but it was the start of a roller coaster ride.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu imagine #atsumu imagines #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #atsumu miya x reader #miya x reader #miya imagine #miya imagines

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exposebbs · 3 years

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i was thinking about this whole shit w/ ohm and it got me thinking back to 2017 with his fight with bryce because everyone says it stemmed more from bryce just posting bout his abs and ohm trying to paint him as bad for showing them since "its usually the sign of vanity" something like that. ohm did mention in a stream back then that he, bryce and delirious all wanted to post their F13 video first since it was one of those hacks or something but ohm told them he wanted to be first(i assume for views) but bryce and del didnt listen to him and they uploaded before him. ohm only attacked bryce for it but not del as well? i think ohm had more to gain from leaving del alone with it but he had no use for bryce cause he was a small channel so easier to pick a fight on a guys channel who was only like 400k at the time compared the big 8 mil guy. Idk that just always irked me how delirious did the same as bryce but only ohm went after bryce. i know these two rekindled the friendship but idk if i could if i was him

This is very interesting actually, I didn't really thought of it this way. Maybe back then Ohm was afraid to go against him cuz he knew his fan were gonna defend Del specially over something that dumb and he didn't have a good enough evidence to go against him just yet. This time he did and decided to used that information now, thinking it was gonna do some critical damage but (imo) it didn't really worked.

I feel like Ohm is like this villain you see on movie or something, making you think he is your friend in your face but in reality he is just collecting info of you, waiting in the shadows for the right moment to strike, then going public to put a final touch on his personal vendetta against you, to make you feel humiliated and powerless in front of everyone and everything you love...

Damn this should be a movie. Who wants to help me make it? Lol

#ask the squad #ohmwrecker #i kinda got carried away 🤣🤣#but is a good movie tho #def will pay to see

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blissfulsun · 4 years

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Angst & fluff aka my brand, hope you all enjoy🥺❣️

word count: 938

Smitten // Jeff Wittek

'Quit staring before someone catches onto your obvious crush' the teasing whisper in his ear causes Jeff to almost choke on his drink.

'What the hell man?!' he throws David a dirty look before checking over his outfit for any spills.

The messy haired boy shrugs innocently, 'I'm just saying...you used to be a little more discreet.'

The observation irkes the older of the two, heart thumping in his chest as Jeff wonders if you have noticed his lovesick looks for yourself.

‘You and Y/n? can't say I saw that one coming...but it's kind of cute' Dave continues on.

Jeff groans, still half watching you to make sure no one is trying anything that might make you uncomfortable.

‘Trust me man I know...I just, I look at her and it's like when the grinch's heart grows three sizes' he's silently cursing out your love for the movie and insistence on watching it last Friday night for the clumsy metaphor.

David's teasing response and the rest of the uncomfortable conversation would have to wait.

The sight of an arm of a stranger wrapping around your waist by the bar setting off sirens inside Jeff's mind, especially as he caught a glimpse of the grimace on your pretty features.

The situation only escalates from there, his original intention of simply walking over and politely asking the creep to walk away going out the window the minute his hands lower and grasp at your bum.

One minute you are swearing at a handsy stranger and the next a familiar broad frame pulls you off before Jeff throws the first punch.

He lets the anger consume him momentarily, barely feeling the swipe the other guy gets at his jaw before someone finally pulls him off.

Todd is saying something but ever word is ringing in his head, eyes frantically searching for you in the crowd. He just needs to know you're okay.

The assurance doesn't come when you're finally found a little ways away with expression twisted in a grimace.

'What's wrong? Are you hurt?' Jeff comes into your view, interrupting Erin's examination of your injuries.

You nodd, still in shock. 'I'm fine, just twisted my ankle when I fell' your words cause his heart to drop. Did he push you? Was it his doing?

His fallen expression makes you react quickly, 'no no, it wasn't you, some girl fell into me, everything happened so quickly' you've sobered up significantly in the last couple of minutes, hand mindlessly grabbing his own to reassure the handsome man.

Jeff hopes the colourful lights somehow mask his reddened face, coughing as he gets his bearings.

'Right, let's get that ankle checked out' he's picking you up before anyone can say anything else.

You feel instantly both paranoid yet flustered, an adorable squeek leaving your lips in surprise.

‘Jeff! I-I can walk you don't have to-' he's quick to interrupt. 'You're not hurting me, you're not heavy. I've got you love' for a moment, you're stunned at how well he can read your mind.

Your friends all clumsily squeeze into the Tesla, David still with a camera in his hand, and that's where the teasing begins. 'So Jeff...they teach you how to throw hands like that back in prison or was it-?'

It’s you who interrupts, 'Stop being a fucking dick Dave or I'll shove this foot up your ass, swollen ankle and all.'

It's quiet at first, everyone including your friend in the driver's seat bursting into endless laughter at the warning.

You come back to reality when Jeff's arms tighten around your waist, one hand entangling his fingers with your own.

He hides the toothy smile caused by the way your breath seems to hitch at his actions in the exposed skin of your shoulder.

Everything happens at a relatively slow pace after that, Jeff refusing to let you walk still once you arrive at the hospital, grin smug as he carries you through the entrance and again to a seat in the waiting area.

The others sit around until Zane's drunk antics get most of your friends reprimanded and finally taken home by David who promises to come right back.

It's quiet for a while, your tipsy mind overanalysing every move made by Jeff earlier that night.

His own thoughts of you interrupted by a whispered 'I'm sorry...' that leaves your mouth.

Jeff stares at you in confusion, hands gently planted atop your legs in his lap while he tries to fathom why you're apologising.

‘What for?' he asks to which you shrug. 'I ruined your night, everyone's night really' there's fingers guiding your chin up to look him in the eye.

'Hey, you don't have anything to be sorry for princess, that dick should've kept his hands to himself...and I guess I could have been more careful maybe this wouldn't-'

It's your turn to interrupt. 'No! you defended me and I appreciate that' the assurance offered along a shy smile, your cheeks burning at the intense stare of his eyes.

Jeff's about to take the leap, forget his fears and ask you to finally give him a chance.

But the nurse calling your name puts that plan on a backburner for now.

Later that same night, when you're sat beside him in the Tesla again, head leaning against his chest and his own cheek smushed against your hair, he promises himself to win your heart.

Simutanously, you give it up to him in the same instance, the feeling of his arms wrapped around your shoulder searing into bare skin and nose inhaling the intoxicating scent of his jacket you've been wearing when you got in the car.

#boyfriend💖💓💘#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek fanfiction

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nonveritas · 3 years

Text

for k. / @liebesfrued

How do we know that we are living in reality?

It was an inquiry posed by the living embodiment of his antithesis irking him to this day. Half of him thought it didn’t matter, while the remaining half contemplated. By now, his response could have been nihilistic sprinkled with the hope crafted in the very core of his being.

However, it became something he thought about when there was nothing else to ponder. Day or night, in a few seconds to a couple of hours, during his slumber or when he was wide awake… The question was like a parasite growing inside of him that leeched off a few yet important seconds of his mortal existence.

Having experienced more than one reality, the question was something he didn’t take too lightly. Whatever happened on the island-- The conversations, the emotions, the memories… They were indications that they existed in the same reality (albeit… fabricated), right? Although, it didn’t end on the island for some reason.

What he could retain from his memories were… fragments. What he was certain of, was that his companion in that reality was, again, the equivalent of a lucky slot machine that happened to also be implanted with a bomb.

Blue skies with clouds that looked like brush strokes out of a painting, a warm breeze on an open greenery… He was covered in armor, while his counterpart was the opposite. Whatever the timeline it was, it wasn’t the medieval ages, thankfully. The trauma would have been similar to the events in the reality prior. Everyone else was present as well. The conversations, the emotions, the memories… Those factors were present, too.

But no one else remembered or knew of this reality. Only him and the yin-yang luckster.

And that posed another question, was the reality… real, when it was just two souls that shared everything? But why him? Why was he the only other recipient of this third reality? He had his hunch, or rather, he was absolutely confident in his assumption. But there was nothing wrong to hear confirmation from the other soul himself.

-000-

Eyeing the silhouette of the person in question sitting by the docks, he finally approached with footsteps announcing his arrival.

Komaeda glanced up and smiled, met by Hajime’s confused and annoyed scowl.

“Your reality… Or rather, your psyche… I was in it. I know I was in it. I remember… things. No one else remembers.” He narrowed his eyes. “You wanted me to be a part of it… Or am I mistaken?”

Nothing in Komaeda’s smile faltered, but Hajime knew better. He saw the violent turbulence of his psyche for himself. It was a living nightmare to say the least. He assumed he was allowed to view the repressed subconscious, as the other was a walking, talking enigma at all times.

“What on Earth are you talking about, Hinata-kun?” He was an impeccable actor; almost faultless. Almost.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know that you know what I’m talking about. I was there. You were there, and I know you remember, too. But what I don’t know is why you decided to involve me in your world.” He narrowed his eyes, his suspicions much visible for Komaeda to gaze at.

“Ehhhh?” Komaeda tilted his head, his smile staying in place. Hajime almost wanted to smack him in the head, but fought off the urge at the last minute. “I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smile looked out of place, not the same as any of those deceitful smiles from before.

“Well, whatever the case, I kind of know you a bit more. You’re the definition of heavy baggage, too much of a burden to carry,” Hajime started. Komaeda’s smile faltered the tiniest bit (the rarest showcase of weakness), but Hajime continued, “But if this is just your way of asking me if I’d like to stay by your side, hmm… If it’s just because I’m this beacon of hope that you fantasize, then don’t bet on it.” He smirked. “Before anything else, I’m nothing. Because if I’m nothing, I can be anything. And with that, I just want to be... me.” He closed his eyes and folded his arms against his chest, using one finger to point at Komaeda as he opened one eye. “And if you see me for me, I’ll see you for you. Eye-to-eye, so to speak. Besides, it’s not like we can go anywhere anyway.”

And then, laughter. Frivolous, unhinged laughter from the eccentricity beside him. Looking back, his words did sound cheesy at best, but how else could he express--

“You never cease to amaze me, Hinata-kun.” He wiped what seemed to be a tear from the corner of his eye. He looked… livelier, an unexpected metamorphosis that happened in the blink of an eye. “Even after everything, you’re still so… I can’t even find the perfect word to describe it. Maybe you’re like a… Ah! A cockroach!”

Hajime’s eye twitched. Komaeda then waved his hands and chuckled. “Hear me out. You’re tenacious, you’ve outlived the greatest tragedy in human history which is basically the apocalypse… Not only that, you’ve evolved overcoming all odds! Ahh~~ This is why humans are always so utterly fascinating.” The tone in his voice had that familiar and weird perversion to it. Nice to see that some things would never change.

“I can’t wait for everything else that you have to offer, Hinata-kun.” He offered his hand to emphasize his point, but was taken aback when Hajime placed his hand over his.

“Hey now, it’s not just me. Don’t make things boring for me, Komaeda-kun.” Hajime gave the other’s hand a squeeze, his expression challenging the other’s.

Komaeda could feel emotions squeeze over his heart, his beating heart. The moment was unthinkably beautiful poetry in motion. Words couldn’t simply suffice the excitement, the happiness, the love--

“I know.”

Maybe there was no answer. Or maybe the reality was whatever they wanted it to be, together.

#liebesfrued #( .drabble )

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cottage-babe · 4 years

Text

Burning Scars part VII

Previous | Chapter 7 | Next

Masterlist

not me studying ATLA maps when i should be studying for school oml

Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar’s destiny?

MENTIONS OF BLOOD

*****this chapter takes place at Season 2 Episode 12*****

___

Oh boy... this is so rough.

It was quite crazy how everything could tumble down hill so quickly.

After the teen’s fight at the Misty Palms Oasis, Y/n and Zuko refused to talk to one another. It was a constant, petty competition between them; waiting to see who would crack first. It was astonishing how Iroh managed to keep himself collected when the two children he looked over were in a silent battle.

Iroh’s club had (thankfully) fetched the trio’s Ostrich-Horses from the stables and collected all of their things. After saying their thanks to the White Lotus, they hopped onto the saddles of their rides and set off toward their next town; Ba Sing Se.

Y/n refused to share seats with Zuko as she had previously and tried to convince Iroh to see her point of view. The uncle had shut-down her idea at first, but when noticing her ‘persistence,’ he agreed and let her ride on the back of his saddle. ‘Persistence,’ of course, being her threats of walking beside them and slowing down their estimated week-long trip. Ahh, the power of time.

They had wanted to go straight through the desert to save the days that it would take them to go around it, but the citizens of the desert advised against it. The Wi Shong Desert was impossible to cross. It would be unbearably hot, their water would disappear quickly, and it was easy to get lost when your surrounded by identical mounds of sand. Not wanting to take a chance, the trio followed the directions and traveled the edge of the taunting desert.

This new path was preferred by Y/n, as she didn’t have the appropriate coverings for the heat like the two men did. They were returning to the same terrain that they were in before, the foresty-rocky one. The werewolf was definitely more comfortable with this change.

The days passed slowly.

Iroh and Y/n talked a bit, but not as much as they had before. Of course, it wasn’t like they were mad at each other or anything, it was just that the tension between the two teens were still present and it made things... awkward. The werewolf didn’t want Zuko to hear her talk about things because it might give him the impression that she grew comfortable with him again when she 100% was not. Zuko never talked much, but now there was an ever-present scowl embedded on his face. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

When night came, the tension was even worse. They would sit, eat, drink, all in silence. Iroh, being the wonderful person that he was, tried to chisel at the quiet, but either neither would answer or one would release a snarky comment.

After the first couple of days, Y/n’s anger and annoyance had eased slightly. She wasn’t even mad at him anymore for what he had done, the only thing that continued to irk her was the fact that he never apologized. He never admitted that he was wrong or that he understood her reaction. Zuko just continued on with the trip acting like she was in the wrong.

There was one night in particular that set her off once again.

They were unpacking the food that they had; the supply was dwindling. Of course, the trio had enough to last them the entire trip, but the sight of their food becoming so minimal was affecting their morals. At least, it was for Zuko.

The boy made it his very job to complain about their supply almost every second. Iroh and Y/n learned to tune out his whines and pouts, but then he said something that triggered her anger.

The werewolf couldn’t even fully remember the words that he said, but the idea still lingered in her mind.

“Maybe we should quit wasting our food on dead-weight like Y/n.”

She honestly could’ve just let it go like she had done with everything else he had said. Perhaps it was the traveling that lowered her tolerance, but those words set her off the edge.

Y/n had stood up from her seated position around the campfire and glared at Zuko. Then, she simply turned around and left. No words exited her mouth, no reassurance that she was coming back, absolutely nothing. Iroh had jumped up from his seat and asked her where she was going, but he didn’t receive an answer. Just the silent crunching of her feet on the dirt path and her silhouette disappearing into the trees.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that the girl returned.

Her appearance was shaggy; her clothes were obviously put on lazily and her hair was slightly messed up. The one thing that was most prominent, however, was the very dead rabbit resting in her grip.

Blood was leaking from it into her hands and some of it was smeared on her face. She was still irritated as she skinned and cooked the animal across the fire; her glare piercing through the top of the flames straight into Zuko’s eyes. Y/n shared the meat with Iroh that night and he seemed glad to have some real food for once.

She felt as though she earned some respect after that night.

For the rest of the trip, Zuko didn’t complain as much. He didn’t say things that would purposely get on her nerves, he just remained silent. Not one word left him again.

His silence really helped Y/n get the time she needed to think. She thought about those feeling that she had for him in the flower shop, but she couldn’t see herself as that person anymore; as that love-sick teenager. It’s not who she is, it never was. It must’ve been the vulnerability that Zuko offered her; she fell for the soft side of him, a side that isn’t Zuko. They both had let down their guard and look where it got them; not even on speaking terms.

It was relieving when they made it to the boarding docks that would bring them to the gates of Ba Sing Se. They were at an underground place, a cave from the looks of it. There were many people formed in lines or waiting with their baggage beside them. All the way across the cove, there was a large wall stretched to each side. Y/n assumed that there was water hiding behind it.

Before they entered the docks (Full Moon Bay, as Iroh had called it), the trio tied their Ostrich-Horses to some stables and gathered their things. While the boys put on their bags and such, Y/n stood in front of their rides.

“Thank you,” she whispered and smoothed back both of their feathers. “You’ve done so much for us, I wish we could repay you.”

Their two steeds looked down at her with a look that showed their understanding of her words. But their expressions revealed something else too; like their was something she could do. She honestly didn’t know what it was, not until they began walking away from the stables.

“So, are we going to be coming back? What’s gonna happen to the Ostrich-horses?” Y/n asked just as her eyes saw the interior of Full Moon Bay.

Iroh shrugged his shoulders. “They will possibly be handed over to other travelers. We don’t have a use for them anymore; when someone goes to Ba Sing Se, they hardly ever leave.”

Y/n stopped walking as the words hit her. Quickly, she turned around and shouted to the duo about forgetting to get something. It wasn’t a great excuse, but she needed to do one last thing before she started her new life here.

She had talked to Iroh privately before they started on their trip to Ba Sing Se. He told her how Zuko and him were planning to stay there for a long time or at least until everything died down. Iroh gave her permission to leave whenever she wanted, but said that he and Zuko would love it if she stayed with them. Y/n, at the time, almost considered leaving because of the situation with the other teen in the group. She had spent a couple days thinking about it; about the pros and cons, the risks that she would be taking, etc. In the end, she decided that staying in the boy’s company could benefit her, especially if Ba Sing Se was as wonderful as everyone else made it out to be. If anything, she could leave their group when they made it inside the walls; if she really wanted to.

But she still needed to do this one thing first.

Y/n ran back to the stables and looked for their animals. There were quite a few there, but she quickly found the ones that she had been riding for the last week. They seemed happy to see her and she felt the same toward them; she finally understood what they needed from her.

The werewolf untied their straps and removed the saddles from their backs.

Then, she brought them to the edge of the forest, away from traveler’s eyes. Without a word, Y/n let them go out into the wilderness, free of the restricting fabrics that the humans had put on them. They almost didn’t run at first, just staring at her with large eyes, but after a moment they walked into the trees and their silhouettes blended with the shadows.

Y/n let out a sigh. She felt really good.

Quickly, she ran back to the entrance of the Bay and met up with Iroh and Zuko. The uncle greeted her while the boy just ignored her presence and continued walking. They followed Iroh to one of the lines and waited, explaining that they needed to get their passports checked first.

Y/n was pouting the entire time. She wasn’t used to waiting in long human lines; she didn’t see the point of it. Why didn’t they just get more people to look at their documents so everything would go by faster?

Both her travel buddies were silent the entire wait and she was fine with it. Y/n spent her time people-watching; something that she found herself doing quite often. She excused herself by saying that she needed to ‘study the human culture,’ but in reality she just found it interesting. There were so many types of people around; some with large amounts of luggage, big families, even a group of bald people wearing yellow and holding a stick! There were so many interesting characters here.

Finally, they made it to the front of the line.

A woman checked their passports, then handed them three tickets with a stamp. They each took one of the papers and headed over to the large wall that towered over the people.

There was a man there that asked for their tickets and directed them toward a very large boat. It marveled Y/n. She had heard stories of these large things that could float on water, but seeing it in person was something else.

How can this hold a bunch of people?

The werewolf had paused in her spot to think this and Zuko, who was walking behind her, shoved her shoulder as he pushed passed her.

“Watch it, you’re in the way.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. Iroh placed a hand on her should for comfort before he kept walking to catch up with his nephew. Y/n was getting a little sick of all this.

They walked across a board and entered the ferry. They were told to stay on the top deck until they landed at the boarders of Ba Sing Se. Y/n trailed behind the boys as they looked for a spot empty enough for them to rest; eventually settling near a railing on the side of the boat.

A kind lady went around the ship passing bowls of food to each passenger; the trio being included. Before Y/n took a sip, however, she looked over the edge into the the deep blue water. They were very high up.

“We’re going really fast.” She thought aloud.

Iroh joined her on the railing and looked at the water, ignoring her random words. “Who would have thought after all these years, I'd return to the scene of my greatest military disgrace,” he shut his eyes as he paused. “As a tourist!”

Y/n let out a small laugh at the old man’s silly words. But then, of course, Zuko had to come and ruin it.

“Look around. We're not tourists, we're refugees.” He said as he move to stand on her other side.

“Lighten up, Zuko.” Y/n replied while her eyes stayed on lake in front of her. Maybe she’d be able to see a fish jump out!

She could feel the boy glaring at the side of her head, but she chose to ignore it, just like she did when he would complain before. She heard Zuko take a sip of his bowl before spitting it out dramatically. “Ugh! I'm sick of eating rotten food, sleeping in the dirt. I'm tired of living like this!”

The werewolf rolled her eyes, but set the bowl down on the deck, taking his reaction to the food into consideration. I think I can wait until we make it to the city.

“Aren't we all?”

The trio turned around from their positions on the rail and saw three teens, all about the same age as Y/n and Zuko. One stood closer to the front, a boy, about the same height as Zuko, but with shaggier hair. He had a smirk etched across his face and a plant stuck out from between his teeth.

“My name's Jet,” The boy explained as he walked out from the covers that the Ferry had set up. He extended his hand behind him. “And these are my Freedom Fighters, Smellerbee and Longshot.”

Behind him, the two teens let out a greeting. Well, the shorter one did, but the tall, mysterious guy just nodded his head. Zuko let out a small "hello" while Y/n waved politely. This was the first time she personally met another set of human teens.

The first boy, Jet, began to walk up to Zuko as he spoke. "Here's the deal. I hear the captain's eating like a king while the refugees have to feed off his scraps. Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

Zuko wasn't answering the kid, wasn't even looking at him anymore, so Y/n almost did all of them a favor and declined the boy's advances for her travel buddies, but Iroh spoke before she could.

"What sort of king is he eating like?" The uncle asked. Y/n rolled her eyes; that's not what she expected him to say.

"The fat, happy kind." He smirked at Iroh before turning his attention back to Zuko. "Want to help us 'liberate' some food?"

The werewolf tugged on Iroh's sleeve. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

Trust her, if her instincts were telling them not to, then they really shouldn't. She knew all about stealing food (especially from the humans), but something was off about Jet. She didn't want her group getting mixed up with the "freedom fighters" if they didn't have to. All they had to do was wait until the next morning to buy food from the city.

Y/n looked at Zuko and met his eyes. She was pleading silently, don't.

But the boy didn't listen to her. He threw his bowl out into the water and turned toward the group of teens.

"I'm in."

Y/n placed her hand on her forehead in exasperation. Of course he would do his own thing. She decided to settle for glaring at Jet's welcoming smile.

The strange boy seemed to feel her eyes and turned to look at her.

"Don't worry, princess, we'll bring your boyfriend back in one piece." Jet spoke once Zuko made his way over to the group.

Y/n and Zuko both scoffed at his words. Jet looked between them quickly while his smirk grew.

"Ohh… I see." The boy took a step toward her. "Why don't you come too? I could use another lookout."

Y/n crossed her arms. Lookout?

Just as she was about to voice her opinion, Zuko stopped Jet's advancements with a stuck-out hand.

"She's not coming with us." Zuko looked at her sternly. "Stay here and watch my Uncle."

Y/n was about to let out a sarcastic comment, or even something slightly mean to say that he can't control her, but there was something about his eyes that made her rethink it. He seemed… cautious? Maybe he can see how shady these teens really are.

"Fine, but if you get caught, don't expect us to come and save you."

With that, she turned on her heel and faced the lake once again, hearing the four receding footsteps as they walked away.

The werewolf folded her arms and placed her head on them with a sigh. She really shouldn't be worried about Zuko, especially since they weren't on the best terms at the moment, but her heart couldn't help it. They had made it so far and it could all be ruined with this act of rebellion. Not to mention, if he let her go with him, Y/n could protect him if he needs it. Zuko has his bending, but that could only get him so far. She was trained for fighting.

"You look as though you have a lot on your mind."

She lifted her head and looked to where the voice came from. Iroh was sitting on the floor, his bowl of rotten food resting in his palms while his eyes shined the colors of the setting sun. The girl took the spot next to him and followed his line of sight.

The sunset was beautiful. The sky was a mixture of pinks and oranges all the way down to the giant ball of fire that glowed. Beams of light shined passed the small clouds that littered the sky, showing the power of the rays of sun. It was so pretty that she wished she could paint it to remember this moment.

“So much has been happening recently; it’s just a lot to handle.” Y/n whispered.

Iroh nodded his head in agreement. “I can understand that. You’ve gone through a lot at such a young age.” He paused for a moment. “And I’m sorry that my nephew has added on to your stress.”

“It’s not you that I need an apology from, it’s Zuko.” She shook her head dejectedly. “And what is up with him?! One minute he’s all friendly, like he cares, and then the next he’s just so... infuriating.”

The sun finally made it’s way past the tips of the mountains and fell out of sight. The orange took a deeper tone, but the view still left her awestruck. Iroh placed a hand on the wolf’s shoulder.

“I think there are some things that you need to learn about my nephew,” He began. “Zuko didn’t have many friends when he was a child, he was reserved and only ever talked to his sister and mother. And then after his incident when he was thirteen, he had taught himself to put up barriers, ones that not even I could break. But you must remember; Zuko is a child, just as you are. He may act cold-hearted, but underneath it all, he has a good spirit.”

Thirteen? He’s been out on his father’s mission for at least three years?

“So, what you’re saying is that him being rude is actually his way of showing he cares? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Iroh laughed a hearty laugh. Y/n joined in slightly, but couldn’t see what was so funny.

“I suppose that is a good way of putting it.” His laughter died down to a serious tone. “I just want you to know, Y/n, that although this does explain his personality, it does not excuse it. If you are having issues with him, then talk to him and let him know.”

Y/n sighed as the sky finally receded into darkness. Maybe he is right, she’s had plenty of time to think about everything, so the next step would just be to talk. The werewolf decided to point the topic in a different direction.

“So, Zuko told me about the four nations and what bending was. He thinks I’m part of the Earth Kingdom.” She smiled at the older man. “Do you think I can bend?”

Iroh shrugged his shoulders with the same laugh as before. “Maybe. If you’d like, I can teach you some techniques that I know.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. Wait, I might be able to bend?

“But I thought you could only bend one element? You can do two?”

“No, no, no.” He waved his hand out. “I just studied their techniques and memorized some. I can’t say that I can help you fully, but I can try my best.”

That was honestly good for her. After Zuko had told her last time that it probably wasn’t possible, she had felt dejected. But maybe there’s hope now?

Suddenly, she saw something moving around in the sky. It was hard to focus her eyes in the dark, but the sight of a large animal flying over head caught the duos attention.

“Uhh, what is that?” Y/n eyes with her eyes squinting.

It flew off past their boat and into the opposite direction of Ba Sing Se.

Iroh shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve only seen one like that before...” Then he looked at the girl next to him. “Don’t tell Zuko that you saw that. He... is scared of flying animals.”

She raised an eyebrow at his obvious lie, but promised to not tell the other boy. It was then that a smell hit her.

It smelled so warm and delicious that her mouth almost watered the second it hit her nostrils. She looked around until she saw the source of the aroma.

Zuko, Jet, and his two freedom fighters were back with two large bags. They were reaching into the sacks and pulling out bowls, passing them to the refugees on the ship.

When they were finished, they made their way back to Iroh and Y/n with their bowls in hand. Zuko had given a bowl to Iroh and completely ignored Y/n, so she had to get her food from Jet.

“Thank you, Jet.” She said with a smile as the sight of the food made her happy. Maybe the freedom fighters won’t so bad.

Iroh and Y/n shifted their seating arrangement until they formed a circle with the four other teens. Jet was going to take the seat beside the werewolf, but Zuko beat him to it, claiming that his bag was there, so it’s his seat.

They began to eat, Y/n almost scarfing down her entire bowl with one bite. She couldn’t deny it, she was hungry. They were surviving off of food that barely filled her, so now that she had the opportunity to eat, she wasn’t going to miss it.

Y/n was so invested in her bowl of food that she couldn’t even process the conversation going on around her, all she knew was that Smellerbee had stormed off and Longshot had gone after her. All that was left was her two traveling friends and Jet. She decided that now was the time to tune into the banter that was happening.

“From what I heard, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se. I can't wait to set my eyes on that giant wall.” Jet said as he leaned back into his arms.

Iroh nodded his head. “It’s a magnificent sight.”

“So, you’ve been there before?”

Y/n slowly lowered her bowl with wide eyes. Was he going to tell him about his life of a war general?

Instead, Iroh settled for a solemn look on his face. “Once, when I was a... different man.”

Surprisingly, Jet didn’t pry the way she expected him to. “I've done some things in my past that I'm not proud of, but that's why I'm going to Ba Sing Se: for a new beginning. A second chance.”

A new beginning? Is that what I need?

It hadn’t hit her until then, but this new life that she strove for, a life away from her pack, away from her shame, was something that she already had. The boys had given her this opportunity the moment they asked her to join their trip.

Ba Sing Se was this refuge for people who wanted what she had. It was a refuge for Iroh and Zuko, too. Did I really consider leaving them? It made her feel a bit of shame, she can’t just leave when things get tough.

“Hey, Zuko?” Y/n asked as she set her bowl on the ground in front of her.

The boy just hummed in response, not quite looking at her as he continued to eat.

“Do you think we could talk? Soon?”

Zuko stopped his chewing and looked at her questioningly. He set down his half eaten bowl and stood up. “Let’s go.”

She followed him to a separate area of the ferry. Most people were around the front of the ship, either eating the remains of the food or sleeping against the hardwood floor. There were some families around them at the back of the ship, but most weren’t paying attention. The duo stopped at the railings at the end of the boat.

They were silent for a second, Zuko waiting for the girl to say something while Y/n was trying to regain her thoughts. C’mon brain, you can do this.

“So, I guess I should start off with a ‘sorry’? I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you, especially since what you did was an accident.” She paused to let him talk, but he just continued to stare with a bored look on his face. “Uhh... I’m also sorry for insulting you. I was mad and didn’t think about my words. Everything else I said after that, though, I completely meant. You were a jerk to me.”

The corners of Zuko’s mouth lifted slightly at her words as he soaked them in. She didn’t really have much else to say, she hadn’t done much wrong. Y/n could only hope that the boy understood that.

He sighed and looked off to the side. “I guess... you not at total fault here.”

Y/n almost scoffed, almost, but held it back. This was what Iroh was talking about; Zuko had walls and this might be the best apology that she’d get out of him for now. She didn’t really know what else to say, so she was happy when he started to speak again.

“I-uh-maybe shouldn’t have gotten mad when you called me out. Should’ve just accepted it and moved on, but-uh-I’m still learning.”

Ok, this is going way better than I expected.

She half expected him to reject her apology and stomp off angrily, continuing to hate her for the rest of his life. She was glad that it’s going in the opposite direction.

Y/n couldn’t help the giddiness that she felt rise within her and wrapped her arms around the boy’s stomach. He didn’t hug her back at first, but when he realized that she wouldn’t let go, he awkwardly settled his arms around her shoulders. She could tell that he was slightly uncomfortable with the affection, so she eased herself off of him with a grin on her face.

They began their walk back to the group with much less tension than when they came.

“You know, Iroh told me that he’d teach me some earthbending to see if I was a bender.” Y/n spoke smugly.

“Really? He shouldn’t, it’d be a waste of time.” The boy replied as she pouted in response. “I hope you know that I had to tell Uncle to make sure you would stay during the travel to Full Moon Bay. Don’t make me regret asking him.”

Y/n smiled. So, that was why Iroh brought up her leaving? She was kind of confused on why he would mention it if he wanted her to stay, but not it make sense. His approach was wrong, but it made sense.

“So what I’m hearing is... you’d miss me if I left?”

Zuko just groaned out and sped up his pace, leaving her behind as their group came into view. For the rest of the night, the random cluster of six talked and joked around, the anger no longer being apparent between each teen.

It was finally back to the way it used to be; only ten times better.

___

There’s something so fulfilling abt writing a long chapter, I love it

Previous | Chapter 7 | Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes @lozzybowe @woohoney @whalerus @cece-lives-here @bwndito @kiaoizz

#atla #zuko x reader #zuko #avatar

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curious-minx · 3 years

Text

Review of the first episode of The Great North (plus some sad Bob’s Burgers’ news)

2021.

I was going to begin my review of the pilot episode of The Great North, the sister sister series of Bob’s Burgers, with my trademark snarky and slanted curlicue wit... Instead, I am reckoning with the headline of the death of Bob’s Burgers character designer, Dave Creek.

Dave Creek.

Type his name out and put it in comic sans and you can see it’s a name meant to be involved with TV. One of the rare individuals to pass away from something other than Covid-19 or our rising totalitarian government. The artist contributed to the show in many ways, most profoundly with the design of Lady Tinsel from the Bleakening, one of Bob’s Burgers most visually ambitious episodes to date. I am ill-equipped to eulogize the man like his fellow peers are doing, but as someone who writes and thinks about the Bob’s Burgers series it is impossible to not address his passing.

//////

The Great North.

“Sexi Moose Adventure”

Look up there! What Do You See? Nature and stuff Like a rock And a tree Oh, The Great North Way up here we can breathe the air Catch some fish Or gaze at a bear Wow! Oh, The Great North Here we live, oh, oh Here we’ll stay, oh, whoo From longest night To longest day In The Great North

An Alan Thicke bop or the wimpy Cheers theme this aint. A jarring theme. I had to transcribe it to lay it out in front of me to see how wordy it is, but to my surprise the theme song looks more concise on paper. Still, I am not sold on this theme song. Mainly because I prefer the misheard lyric of “Here we’ll say (it’s actually “stay”): oh, whoo,” digging further into the regional grunts.

1:24, One minute and twenty four seconds in and there is already a little bit of winking scatalogical humor by the ever youthful Paul Rust, or as I am sure he’ll be known for generations, Ham Tobin, the middle of the three Tobin sons. Compounded within these first two minutes is a stylistic swivel away from Bob’s Burgers comedic well with a Brokeback Mountain themed wedding cutaway joke with real-world celebrity cameos. Speaking of celebrity cameos, how about a side character conversation with an Alanis Morrisette constellation (and she’s a recurring character!) you’ve never seen that in Bob’s Burgers! In the first three minutes and thirty seconds we have two instances of explicitly expositional dialogue, the first is the cleaner introduction of eldest Wolf Tobin (voiced by Will Forte) and his fiance Honeybee Shaw who has just moved to Alaska from Fresno and helps set up the reverse All in the Family Meathead and Gloria dynamic. What comes next is once again another moment I can only describe as jarring when the inexplicably normal named Judy Tobin explains to Alanis Morrisette constellation exactly what is wrong with sweetly overbearing father. The reason involving a somewhat convoluted background story about the former Tobin matriarch's abandonment of the family and Beef, the Tobin patriarchy, is in denial of this fact. Beef prefers to live in the reality where no wife of his would leave him she could only have been eaten by a wolf.

What goes on throughout the episode is what I believe is a cardinal sin of episodic storytelling: Making jokes and observations at the expense of an off screen character. There are already WAY too many characters being thrown at me and not once throughout the episode was I able to identify any of the characters by any names other than the name of the celebrity voice actor. Minute six and yet again we are hit with Honeybee generating another celebrity name for a joke and I really hope that the writers develop more of a game for her. Oh wait a minute the episode reminds me again at the eight minute forty sixth second mark that she is in fact from Fresno. More diarrhea and fart jokes snaking their way back into the scene as well, but Jenny Slate has always relished in the poopier jokes (see: any of her stand-up, Kroll work, or Obvious Child).

At the ten minute mark there is a quality character defining joke when Wolf distracts Beef by pointing out an indoor potted plant in a mall, which causes Beef, ever the Nature man, to take matters into his own hands by trying to rescue the potted plant. Beef is basically a combination of the two Rons from Parks & Rec, the emotional frugality of Ron Swanson and a touch of Sam Elliot’s Ron Dunn Earthiness. Julio Torres’ mall juicer character is also introduced with a perfunctory but enjoyable deadpan exchange with the awkward Judy, but it’s the kind of performance Julio Torres could give in his sleep (and probably did).

The eleven minute mark introduces a character that I was initially pretty jazzed about, Judy’s boss at the mall photography store Alyson Lefebvrere (gosh I hated typing out that name >.<) voiced by long-time Molyneux collaborator, Megan Mullally. On paper, much like the theme song, a heated exchange between an emotionally vulnerable Beef and a character voiced by real-life wife Megan Mullally should be dynamite, instead much like their podcast it feels like a wet fart in the sheets. Mullally’s work on Bob’s Burgers as Linda’s sister Gayle is terrific and with the power of animation having her play an unconventional looking character really works to her advantage. Alyson’s character design is boring and conventional cartoon attractive as she’s clearly being set up as a potential love interest for our leading Beef man, but the whole thing in execution falls completely flat. The extended 69 joke between Beef and Alyson is supposed to be funny because we know it’s between a real life publicly beloved celebrity couple. You cannot coast on innate chemistry alone! The setting up of the love interest isn’t even coy, we see Beef get heart eyes and drool over Alyson, which is just the most predictable and least interesting choice. A route this show seems dangerously flirtatious with.

Finally, at minute:second mark 13:15 we get introduced to a potentially fun and quirky sitcom character, Londra the neighboring fish mongerer. Voiced by Judith Shelton, an actor I am sure we all remember as Sally from Seinfeld and Angela from the Gregory Hines Show. Instead she gets instantly shut down and shuffled by in favor of advancing the plot of the episode. Moving on to the birthday party. Yep Honeybee makes another pop culture reference this time the Minions (it was Squidward last time, but I was too faint of heart to mention it at the time). We also find out in a forced confession from Ham that he is gay. I am glad the show has hired an openly gay actor like Julio Torres to play a bit recurring character, but it feels weird having Paul Rust a thoroughly heterosexual actor portray a gay goofball character. I feel like there easily could have been an actual gay goofball Paul Rust type out there deserving of the job, but this show does do right by having Dulce Sloan as Honeybee and Aparna Nancherla as MVP, Moon Tobin (Who I’ll get into later). Therefore I should not let this irk me, but clearly this show and I are not seeing eye to eye. In an era of gestures towards meaningful representation I would just like to see some consistency. Rust will probably go on to join the ranks of the many other hetero men who have also portrayed perfectly competenent and sensitive gay characters, but with gay characters should come paychecks for gay voice talent. In the end of this dead end debacle I much rather Paul Rust have the role and be spared the unimaginative Randy Rainbow casting. Back on track.

There’s a four square action sequence of the four siblings that also feels like the show attempting another stylistic flourish to separate itself from Bob’s Burgers. The episode, all one straight ahead single narrative, comes to a happy ending to also establish that the Bob’s Burgers sister sister series is also interested in being a sentimental sitcom to its core. An unfortunately okay first episode that got worse for me with a repeated viewing. The only character and overall performance that sticks out to me is Aparna Nancherla playing what is essentially the show’s Tina and Louise lovechild of a character Moon Tobin, an animal identifying gender flipped peculiar savant-like child. She’s one of those comedians that I will always root for and appreciate whenever she pops up and I really hope that this show treats her right. She really elevates the material. Everyone else does just fine. The first episodes and first seasons of any sitcoms are rarely all that innovative or memorable so I am certainly going to allow this show to grow on me.

For the time being, this first episode of the Great North is deserving of Two Sexy Moose Antlers out of Five Forced Pop Culture References

#TV Series #Bob's Burgers #The Great North #Fox #adult animation #Animation Domination #Sitcom #TV Review

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lazella · 4 years

Text

Infinity Stone AU: PTSD is Hard to Heal From.

For all the tech that was found in the Avenger’s Tower, most of it bored Yusaku. He was already familiar with this level of technology, some of it was considered primitive compared to what he was used too. Not to mention that his time in the tower felt rather lonely. It was hard for him to connect with the other duelists due to their vastly different views on dueling. Meanwhile, the other members of the Avengers seemed to treat him as a small child which irked him. Ai could only provide so much company until Yusaku hit his patience limit to the Ignis’ behavior.

So for now he was searching for Tony Stark to discuss more ideas of how to use the Mind Stone outside of battle and hacking. The man made it very clear that there was no experimenting with the Infinity Stones without his supervision. After the incident where Yuya turned the whole tower into candy, he could see why.

Yusaku encountered Bruce Banner wondering the halls as he was, “Hey Bruce? Have you seen Tony?” He asked.

“He’s actually not here right now,” Bruce said, “He and Pepper are out on some sort of errand. Didn’t say when they would be back.”

“Oh…I see….” Yusaku began to walk away.

“The others are in the game room if you’re interested.” Bruce called out to him. “Tony got some new games since you all were getting bored.”

Yusaku just shrugged. Might as well wonder over and observe what has going on to stave off boredom.

“Hey Playmaker…can we actually talk and hang out with the others this time?” Ai asked.

“No.”

“But they’re the only interesting people to talk too!!!” Ai protested, “Come on…you can keep doing this emo social distancing act for long.”

“Three reasons….” Ai rolled his eyes as Yusaku began to fall into his habit, “One, our views on dueling are too vastly different. Two, our experiences are also vastly different. And three…they seem to have the ability to bring out topics and memories I do not wish to discuss.”

Ai watched from the Duel Disk wordlessly as Yusaku opened the door to the game room then froze.

Oh boy…Ai thought to himself…This is going to trigger an episode.

Inside the game room, Yuma, Yuya, and Judai were playing with VR headsets on. Yugi and Yusei were watching the game on a nearby screen which looked like some sort of rhythm game.

Yusei eventually noticed Yusaku’s presence, “Care to join us Yusaku?”

Yusaku gave no answer, he slammed the door shut and ran back to his room.

……………………………………………..

The loud bang of the door made everyone in the room freeze.

“What was that all about?” Judai asked removing the headset so he could see reality.

“Yusaku was just at the door.” Yusei explained, “But he looked very scared and ran off.”

Judai frowned, “Scared? Scared of what?”

“Not sure…” Yugi said, “And he’s probably not going to be sharing why anytime soon.”

“Why is he like that anyway?” Yuma asked, “He seems like he’s always afraid.”

“Remember that night when Tony woke us all up?” Yuya said, “We managed to find out that Yusaku was kidnapped when he was younger. But he didn’t say what exactly happened during that time.”

“And that something is still affecting him to this day….” Yusei frowned, “Should one of us go check on him?”

“I’ll do it…” Yugi volunteered, “I think he can relax around me. If I need back up I’ll let you all know.”

The group nodded as Yugi head off to go find Yusaku’s room. Going through the maze of hallways and rooms, Yugi finally arrived at his destination.

“Hey…it’s me…” Yugi knocked on the door, “Can I come in?”

The voice of Yusaku’s program buddy answered back.

“Hold on…let me quickly hack the system to unlock the door.”

The latch of the door clicked, allowing Yugi to enter the room. Yusaku was on his bed, head and arms resting on his knees. Ai was poking out of the duel disk that had been placed on the nightstand.

“Good luck getting anything out of him…” Ai said, “He’s going to be like this for a good while.”

“Do you know what set him off?” Yugi asked, “I really don’t want Yusaku to be fearful of just walking around the tower.”

Ai sighed, “It was the VR headsets.”

Yugi blinked, “The VR headsets? Why those of all things?”

“Honestly, it’s a long story that I really don’t feel like sharing right now.” Ai admitted, “Even then it’s not really my story to tell.”

“Well what can you tell me?” Yugi asked as he sat on the bed.

Ai rubbed his chin in though, “Yusaku has been through a lot and is not used to opening up to people. He didn’t like me at first and I had to grow on him.”

Yugi hummed as he tried to figure out what to do next. He had so little information to go on here and honestly Anzu was the one who gave the better reassuring speeches. Why could Yugi say in a situation like this?

A possible solution came in the poking sensation in his pocket followed by an orange glow. Yugi sighed, “I’m not going to do that…”

“Do what?” Surprisingly, Yusaku was the one who asked slightly uncurling from his ball.

“The Soul Stone can let me enter your Soul Room,” Yugi continued his explanation as he knows Yusaku would have no idea what he was talking about. “It’s a room that reflects who you are. Mine is full of toys and games since I enjoy playing and designing games myself. The other me…since he is missing his memories…his is a labyrinth that leads nowhere.”

“Are you going to use it?” Yusaku asked.

“Not without your permission of course…” Yugi said, “It felt like a huge invasion of privacy the first time it happened to me. But this Soul Stone acts like it has a mind of its own and we’ve had some close calls when it tries to activate when someone is in a poor mood.”

The two sat in silence for some time, both unsure how to go forward.

Aibou…let me handle this…

Are you sure other me?

I say I can give it a shot. It will be better than nothing.

Alright then…Yugi relinquished control to Yami who put a reassuring hand on Yusaku’s shoulder.

“Listen Yusaku…I’m not going to pretend that any of us can understand what you have been through. But you need to stop bottling it all up, it’s not healthy. We’ve all survived our experiences because we had others we can support us when it gets too much. Everyone here is worried about you so can you start letting us in?”

“I…” Yusaku curled back into his ball, “I don’t know how…”

“Maybe that’s why the Soul Stone was reacting.” Yami held up the orange stone, “But I will only use it if I have your permission. I am not going to violate your privacy to satisfy my curiosity. Do I have your permission?”

“Will I see what you see?” Yusaku asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Yami said.

“Then do it.”

“Alright…..” Yami gripped Yusaku’s hand in reassurance, “Let’s go.”

………………………………………………..

Yugi and Yami took a moment to take in their surroundings. They didn’t have any real expectations about what Yusaku’s Soul Room would look like but certainly not this.

If there were a few words they could use to describe what they were seeing, it was empty and broken. It was a simple room with wood paneling and flooring, but one corner looked like it had been torn away by some unseen force. Only an open void was visible through the destruction. Furniture was bare minimum as well. There was only an old desk with a broken computer on it.

“Is…is this supposed to reflect me?”

Yugi and Yami turned around and saw Yusaku looking around in shock, “Shouldn’t there be…more?”

“There should…” Yami admitted, “But in my opinion…your Soul Room looks damaged.”

Yusaku unconsciously put a hand to his chest and clenched, “Three things…the damage looks old…there’s nothing in here unique to me…and what is here is broken…”

“It doesn’t have to stay that way though…” Yugi tried to reassure the panicking boy, “You can change how things are. We just need to pick a starting point, no need to do everything at once.”

That seemed to calm Yusaku down, “I guess you’re right…but where?”

“Is there anyone that cares about you?” Yami asked, “I don’t think your life is as lonely as this room appears to be.”

Yusaku seemed to think a bit. Then proceeded into deep thought. Yami and Yugi waited anxiously to see if Yusaku could come up with any answer. Then the distinct sound of a computer booting up caught all of their attention. The once broken computer was now repaired and its monitor showed a picture of Yusaku standing in front of a food truck next to another man.

“I think that’s your answer Yusaku…” Yami said.

Yusaku nodded, “I think we can head back…”

Yami didn’t say anything and let the Soul Stone pull them back into reality. It was a small step, but it was still a step towards recovery.

#infinity stones au #yugioh #avengers #gx #5ds #zexal #arc v #vrains #yusaku fujiki #yugi mouto #ai(vrains)#ptsd

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Happiness Overload Chapter Sixty-Four

I bobbed my head to and fro. Then I decided to practice my speech in front of the designated villain:

“So you have me in your sights. Nowhere for me to run. You can complete your goal, become all-powerful, and more than anything, be satisfied.”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he muttered as if he were in a Tom Waits song. “I’m supposed to work for this. You’re just giving in.”

“Are you mad that I haven’t experienced the full extent of despair and hopelessness? But you should have known that me having Euphoria within me, that it would be impossible for me to feel anything other than happy.”

“That’s not it. I need to earn it.”

He spoke with such clarity as if all of his jumbled thoughts had been formed because during every moment of his existence, he longed for the one he found himself in.

“You have! You’ve worked very hard and your efforts should go rewarded! You should know, vore isn’t one of my fetishes, but I’m open to try new things.”

“Heh,” his smile once again rest plastered on his face, and I could make out a faint whiff of a chuckle. “It’s as if our personalities have reversed.”

“Not at all! I am, after all, the blank slate!”

“I don’t get it. I must have won. I already know you won’t try to resist. I’ve done everything up until this point and once I devour you and take your power, I can finally rest. But then...why does it feel like I’ve lost?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I almost wanted to shout with glee, but it wasn’t quite time yet.

“I’d say ‘sometimes you just gotta take that L’, but...it’s not really like that. As we speak, The Flashbulb is dissolving. They were an enemy of yours, weren’t they? And if not for the events which you orchestrated, their plans for this world wouldn’t have been foiled. So you won.”

In fact, seeing as things were about to end, I was more than a little curious how things were going back there now that I wasn’t able to support Velvet or any of the other friends I might have made along the way.

That was it, huh? Blanc was gone once again, and in their place was the reality of the situation: that things weren’t quite over yet. No, I already knew that. I was a fool to believe that things would be so easy. As soon as Blanc left, the fight was back on, with a glint of smugness in the eyes of the Flashbulb members. I knew I had to act, but I was still trying to process everything. My friend, gone once more. How many times has it been? Hell, it didn’t even matter. The impact was the same each time.

“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go ahead and turn back time,” Dr. Humble declared, and that was the moment when I was broken from my trance. I jumped in front of the two Flashbulb members, and whether they were in charge of the whole operation or not didn’t matter much to me. In its own twisted way, it seemed like every member was equal measure all powerful and powerless against the other members. Less a check and balance and more two magnets in the same direction, unable to connect.

Look, the metaphor was better in my head.

Either way, I snatched it out from Dr. Humble’s grasp, and while Dr. Asparagus (or Modest. Potato, tomato. Same difference) tried to fight back and restrain me, I fought back and shoved my elbow into his stomach and stomped on his shoe. Both of them gasped now as I held their device in my hands, and I retreated back toward Coriander.

“What’s the deal?” Dr. Humble protested. How ironic, considering the position of power they held.

“You said yourself that you couldn’t turn back time until the ‘celestial’ or whatever you wanna call it this time is dies along with Earth!” I fired back at them. I didn’t know how to use their time travel device, nor did I care to. Perhaps if my endeavor proved fruitful, however eventual, Coriander and I could work together to find a new purpose for the device. As much as I didn’t want to fixate on it, there was a certain air that things were much less certain ever since Blanc departed.

“Please, that world of yours will come to an end whether we create a new timeline or not, so why not just start now?” Dr. Asparagus argued, his voice with the same smugness one would expect from a moldy piece of asparagus.

“I’ll be the one to decide that!” I declared, and maybe I didn’t have a reason to and maybe he was right, but damn it, this wasn’t just a battle over time preferences, but a battle over power.

When Coriander finally spoke, having been in the background the whole time, motionless, just as dazed as I was sure that I was, she sounded the least confident of all.

“What are we supposed to do now?” She asked. “I wanted to be able to return to the world.” She sounded like she was about to get choked up.

Now’s not the time to lose confidence, I wanted to tell her, but it wasn’t like I was any more hopeful.

“Velvet?” Her voice came in once more.

As soon as Coriander said that name, a screen popped up in the air with my likeness, as well as a series of writing.

“Ah, so that’s who you are,” Dr. Humble was now the one to sound smug. Quite a big deal of humblebragging, I’d say. “You’ve been a nuisance throughout your adult life, haven’t you? Governments have embellished stories of you, making you out to be some larger than life threat, when really, you’ve just spent much of your time with reckless impulses. All of your feats seem to be nothing more than lucky breaks. So insignificant to us, that when figured into the dangers of humanity, you’re not even a thought.”

Sheesh. You get your own Wikipedia page and all of a sudden everyone thinks they got you figured it out. Much of what that profile says about me could be applied to The Flashbulb themselves. Embellished? Check. Larger than life? Check. Nothing but lucky breaks? Also check.

“Is any of that wrong?” He asked me, as if he already thought himself correct.

“I mean, sure, I’ve definitely thought that way about myself,” I shrugged. Maybe it was the whole “nothing left to lose” attitude, but hearing such an amusing report gave me quite the ego boost. “People thinking I was some badass secret agent, when really, I just got where I was through a series of fuck ups. It could be that everything that has brought me here was due to countless lucky breaks, as well.”

They both laughed. I didn’t dare look through the corner of my eye, but I suspected there was a great fear and apprehension from my dear lover.

“I can’t believe this! We were scared over nothing! Nothing!” Both of the two men began to cackle, less like witches and more like they just discovered fire. An ever-widening crooked smile crept on Dr. Humble’s face as he spoke: “I’ll tell you two, hell, if Dr. Katsushika can hear us, I’ll tell that damned wild card as well! We as an organization are eternal! Countless others before you have tried to defeat us, all ending in utter failure to the point where we started to view having enemies as routine! And with that in mind, you thought you had a chance?”

True, they had an impressive track record against their opposition, but something about their speech of villainy just irked me.

“You’re right on that count, too,” I conceded. “We may not survive, either. Hell, I’m willing to bet our chances are slim to none.”

“Velvet!” Coriander scolded. Or maybe that’s what I interpreted from her tone. My head could be a real mess sometimes. But I knew why she would have scolded me, if that was the case. I mean, she didn’t want to die. Nor did I. Plus, it probably sounded to her like I was giving up or admitting defeat. Easy mistake to make, especially when I was less focused on communication and more focused on what should come next.

“That said, even with low chances like those, I’m still going to try and I’ll keep trying so long as I live. You’re probably thinking that all my luck has run out, but I have to ask: are you willing to test yours?”

Without so much as a reaction, Dr. Mumble (err...not Humble, but the other one) reached for one of the buttons on their console and spoke into it.

“Guards, dispose of these two intruders at the front.”

“Loud and clear,” a guard at the other end responded. At once, my heart both ceased to beat, for even just a second, and then it beat way too fast.

“It shouldn’t take them more than a few minutes to get here,” Dr. Microbe (like hell I was going to dignify that Flashbulb goon with their name) explained. “Especially with their numbers. You made a valiant effort, but when all is said and done, it won’t be so much as a footnote in a small section of our history.”

“How?” I balled my fists. They shook and I had to be careful not to crush the time travel device I held in my hand. It wasn’t like I knew how to use it, nor would I turn back time. As lucky as I may have been at times, I still preferred to do things on my own terms. “Popsigirl should have disabled all communications!”

“You’ll find that much like the code to Dr. Etna, much of our system constantly rewrites itself and corrects any errors along the way. Even if communication was temporarily cut off, it was never going to last long.”

Tenser than before, Coriander once again asked, “what do we do now, Velvet?”

I turned to her. As I did, I noticed something else. Call it keen eyesight, or potential for yet another lucky break, but I had to take any chance I could.

“I’m not going to ask you to trust me,” my words were just as shaky as hers had been. “Not when things are looking the way they are. But I will ask for you to check that wall next to you. If you find a panel, well, you know what to do.”

At first she gave me a baffled look, like “English, motherfucker!” But then she nodded.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“You’re as capable a hacker as I.” While I knew her specialty was more hardware than software, there was a certain amount of blind faith that I had to employ. Not to say I doubted her abilities, but that I had my doubts that anything could have helped us at that point.

While Coriander got to work with visible frustration, it appeared that Humble and Modest (screw it, just this once) weren’t living up to their names.

“Even if you two manage to figure a way out of here, what then? Like always, the predator becomes the prey, and here you are, on the defensive,” one of them spoke. Did it matter which one? I sure as hell didn’t think so. “Even if we were to lose all of our members, we could just recruit new versions of those same people in another timeline! You could kill us right now, in fact, and so long as one of us lives to bring new members in, what can you do? You’re fighting a losing battle!”

Talk it up. Every second you guys waste running your mouths gives me that much more time.

“Got it!” Coriander declared. I turned to see an opening beside us. Hell, as soon as I saw that, I couldn’t help but show off a sly grin.

“Well, not to be as cliché as you guys have been, but as they say, ‘we’ll deal with you later!’”

I shoved the time travel device into my pocket and ran into the opening along with Coriander. As we did so, the wall closed behind us and the two of us were surrounded in darkness. I’ve spent many nights by her side with the lights off, so that moment seemed like nothing to me.

“Good job, bae,” I put my thumbs up. Being as dark as it was, I had to be careful not to stick my thumb up her nose on accident.

“I’m surprised I managed to figure out something, I mean, it was tricky and even then, if we hesitated even just a second more, it might have closed on us.”

“Ugh,” I felt nauseous with what I was about to say next.

“What?”

“It really is the case that every second counts,” I said, just as I knew I would. Oh, the cliché. Oh, the disgust that was mediocre dialogue.

“Oh yeah. Gross,” she dismissed. “I think we’ve got more on our plate than rhetoric.”

We continued to move forward as we spoke. Any second, those guards would enter the room, and I was sure that both her and I knew that it would only take an instant on their end for that same wall to open up for them. We had to be on the move and figure out a strategy. I was aware of the real possibility that they could hear and catch every word we said, but I think our greatest asset was that we didn’t really know what we were going to do next. Really kept them on their toes.

“We can’t return to the world we knew,” her worries spilled forth. “It will still end, regardless of what we do. We can’t even get rid of the angel without having the world be destroyed in the process. I can’t stop thinking about this. How there’s nothing we could do. Bitterly, I already knew that, but I wanted so bad to believe there was a solution where we could reverse course and come out victorious. So what now?”

I gulped. My, how easy it was to give in to despair. I didn’t think she was quite there yet, but I wouldn’t have blamed her if she was.

“It’s easy,” I spoke up, at last thinking that I had an answer. “I know we didn’t get the most satisfying outcome, so now we try for the next best thing.”

I couldn’t tell whether she nodded in agreement, or if my words didn’t inspire much confidence, as with the total darkness, there was any number of ways one could interpret silence. Regardless, we continued to move forward.

We were on our way to bear the bad news when we both heard the announcement. It meant nothing to me, but it shook Dr. Hepburn to her core. She did a little jig, then turned to me and began poking my shoulders with such intensity and I was left wondering why I kept letting her.

“Hey. Psst! Hey.”

“Yes, HR lady?” I smiled. I couldn’t help but imagine that if I were in her position, I’d act the same way.

“You know that feeling when you go around giving people false hope but then you find out that hope is even more false than you realized?”

I shook my head.

“That’s how you’re feeling right now, huh?” I replied.

“Yeah!” She pumped her fists. “Everyone wants to be Grandmaster Flash, but there is no Grandmaster Flash, so everyone’s been vying for a false position at a false top!”

“Right, and I only like true tops,” I joked.

“Sorry,” she looked down and shook her head. “I’m not a fan of hierarchy. In fact, in some ways, this is quite a relief to me.”

“How so?”

“Because now everyone’s morale will be shifted from super low to super high...in your guys’ favor! They’re probably all pissed right now, like they’ve been cheated! Well, the ones who weren’t driven to despair, anyway.”

“Hmm...that’s one way to look at it, I suppose,” I wasn’t sure if that’s how things worked with people, but it seemed like a possibility.

“You know, I was always rooting for you guys,” she snapped her fingers.

“You were?”

“Well, once it turned out you guys were winning, anyway. If you guys were on the losing end of things, I’d be like ‘I wish they’d protest in a way that didn’t affect us’.”

“Gee, thanks,” I scoffed.

“Don’t mention it!” She held her thumb up and grinned.

Soon we entered a room and Dr. Hepburn had me sit next to her as she addressed a group.

“Greetings, I hope all of you in the Design Department are well,” she began. “I regret to inform you that going forward, your department will be laid off. The Flashbulb wishes you all the best in your future endeavors.”

All around the room were blank stares. I’m pretty sure I could be counted as one of those blank stares.

“All right, Hepburn. Cut the bullshit,” one member finally spoke up. Some gruff guy with a gray pompadour haircut.

“No, no, she’s serious,” I waved my hands out. That proved to be a mistake as the guy turned his attention toward me.

“First of all, no she isn’t. Everyone knows none of us get fired or laid off here. We’re stuck here ‘til the day we die, which usually entails us getting killed by someone. Second, who are you?”

Before I could answer, Dr. Hepburn tapped her pen away at her clipboard until his attention turned toward her instead, to which she took over.

“She is my auntie assistant,” she explained.

“What kind of sick roleplay…” I heard him muttered. I wanted to defend myself and go, “It’s not sick! It’s perfectly healthy!” But why would I when it wasn’t even roleplay?

“Anyway, I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with such an excuse when we already know the big secret. Hell, now that the cat’s out of the bag, a big lot of us are asking ourselves, ‘what was ever the point?’ I mean, the obvious point should have been, ‘to help each other improve one another’, but with this sham of a competition, it’s clear we’ve not really been a help to anyone, let alone ourselves.”

Hepburn’s tapping continued with such a frenzied intensity that I imagined she would make a great drummer, if she wasn’t already one to begin with. Maybe if I got the chance, I could convince her to take up the drums. But then maybe she wouldn’t be into that sort of thing. It’s the thought that counts, anyway, right?

Then the tapping stopped and she smiled a big smile.

“Good! Now you know why you’re being laid off!”

“Oh for crying out loud!” He got up from his chair and flew into a rage.

“Anyway, now that you’re no longer with the company, wanna burn it down?” Dr. Hepburn suggested.

He froze in place.

“You know what? Yeah. I do. I’m sick of all the micromanaging and the way every department can’t seem to help but do more harm than good. Worse, I’m sick of hearing ‘Grandmaster Flash told you to’ when no, no they didn’t. That’s just an excuse to make me do something you didn’t want to do.”

I was glad he seemed to be on our side. Now there was just the matter of the rest of the Design Department…

I shot my hand up.

“Hey, is there someone here named Dr. Oz?” I looked around and asked. One of the members, a sheepish looking young man with mutton chops and a wool sweater turned to me.

“That me,” he bleated. I couldn’t help myself, I was beaming at the prospect that I could be a matchmaker.

“I met Dr. Phil!”

His eyes widened, like he had just seen a wolf. Jeez, I didn’t mean to put him on the spot like he was some sacrificial lamb.

“Did he say anything abaa-t me?”

“Yeah! He said that he thinks it would be great if you two worked together to rally up more departments! He said his department’s sick of this shithole and he bet he isn’t the only one!

“Did he really say that?” The pompadour guy interrupted, ever the skeptic.

He said some of those things. Look, I’m improvising here.

“Sure did! Who are you, anyway?”

He grunted. “I’m Dr. Toto. What about you? No more games, either.”

I bless the rains down the yellow brick road – no, now’s not the time for that. I have to think of how to answer. Probably not a good idea to make something up, but what else can I say?

“Dr. Hepburn, go ahead and tell them the truth. I’m still a little shy,” I tugged on her sleeve.

She looked down and smiled. She must have known just what to say.

“The truth is, Juniper is best girl.”

I just about fell back in my chair. I was rooting for you, Dr. Hepburn! We were all rooting for you! “Back in her original timeline, there was a contest all around the vote all around the world, and it was decided at the end that she was best girl. The company caught wind of this and just had to find out what all the hype was about, and so she was brought here. There was a raffle in the cafeteria with the grand prize being to meet her. Needless to say, I won.”

That had to be the among the top ten most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard.

“Yeah, okay. Seems legit,” Dr. Toto grunted as he nodded.

There were two other members of the Design department, one of which had long, flowing fuchsia hair, and the other had short, iridescent indigo hair. Both of them were pretty, but if I had to choose one over the other...no. That wasn’t what I was there for.

The one with fuchsia hair turned to me.

“How did you do it? Become best girl?” Fuchsia’s voice was soft and soothing.

Way to put me on the spot, Hepburn.

“By starting a revolution!” I declared. Hey, if Dr. Hepburn was going to make a bold claim, so was I.

“Cheers, sis, I’ll fucking drink to that,” Indigo added, and if Fuchsia’s voice was beautiful, then Indigo’s voice was hot, with the way it was husky and self-assured. Still, I didn’t mean to compare the two.

“Anyway, we gotta get a move on and lay more people off. If you guys can work on getting the word out, we should at least have a few more departments on our side,” I explained. Dr. Hepburn gave me a pat on the head.

“You did well as an auntie assistant,” she told me.

“Thanks,” I blushed, though really I didn’t want my hair messed with.

As we left the room, we heard the siren call of an alarm.

“The guards…” I heard her mutter, and before I could react, she took me by the hand and we ran.

Well, wasn’t that just swell?

I mean, I should have expected it, really. If it happened just as planned, then I wouldn’t have found it to be such a masterpiece, just a simple work of art, instead. So revise, improvise. After all, you couldn’t spell painting without ‘pain’ and you couldn’t spell drawing without ‘aw’ and without a doubt, you couldn’t spell revolution without ‘vore’.

Once the alarms outside of my head went off, the alarms inside my head did as well.

Soon, I could hear the click-clack approaching the door to the command room I was in. Which command room? Did it matter? Why did we have so many command rooms? Beats me, but I was sure going to miss this place once it was all over. Which, ‘over’ was just an anagram of ‘vore’. I felt that was worth pointing out.

“Wah! Ha! Ha!” I let out a proud laughter as the door to was busted down and fine chiseled armored specimen stormed in with their suits of shiny metal and their heavy weapons. Each of them fell before they could even pull their itty bitty triggers. Turns out I was right to hold on to Cilantro’s laser backpack. That thing could pack a PUNCH with a capital ‘UNCH’.

As the three guards lay on the ground, I stood over them in triumph and announced:

“It’s just like the tools of the ruling class to be anti-creator. Well I’m here to tell you that I’m pro-creator, and I plan to procreate for as long as I live!”

I couldn’t just stand there over them, as much as that would have made for a fine work of art, as I wasn’t quite sure if they were dead. Yes, I could have fired another shot or three, just to make sure, but there was a beauty in the uncertainty of it all that I just had to relish in. I sniffed the air, which mostly smelled of the smoke produced from that laser blast.

“I was really hoping to catch the whiff of a charred corpse,” I sighed with disappointment. That mood didn’t last, and soon I was back on the drawing board. “Anyway! As they say in Spain, Seeyanara!”

If my calculations were correct (and while some may have thought calculus not to be my strong suit, they would be wrong, as not only was I not good at calculus, but calculating was an art, so being good or not was irrelevant) then Velvet and Lil C should be close. Good! I could return the cute backpack to its rightful owner.

We were still alive, but at a disadvantage. Sure, I could hack into stuff as well, although if someone were to ask me, Velvet was still better in that department. She could roll with the punches and think fast on her feet. Me? I needed total concentration.

At the moment, as we moved forward in pure darkness, concentration was the one thing I did NOT have. It’s not like I wanted to admit it, but it was the reality we were in: at any moment, the walls we found ourselves between would be blasted open and the two of us, shot down. It got me thinking about what our impact would have been. The “close, but not cigar” in terms of success stories of those who went against The Flashbulb? The little clone that could, until she didn’t? It’s not like I cared how I was remembered, if I was remembered at all, I just expected a little more.

Well, my worst fear came true: in front of us, a blast tore through the walls and we both jumped back.

We’re gonna get raided and we’re gonna get shot down without so much as a fight and we aren’t going to have any romantic last words between us it’s just going to be violent and bloody and –

Instead of an army of guards, only one figure entered, one who I wished I didn’t have to see again so soon: that mad artist.

“Smart thinking, you two! Making out while the enemy’s looking for you!” Were her first words upon us meeting, and I was not amused. In fact, I’m pretty sure I growled without so much as a word.

“Ha. I wish,” Velvet joked back, though by now I could tell that was just how Velvet acted when she was tense.

“Anyway, you two should get out of there. Don’t worry, I took care of the guards that were after you. Though there’s going to be a buttload more.”

“Is that the scientific term or…?” Velvet shot back.

Disregarding the useless small talk, we walked forward, through the new hole that was formed. Velvet first, me just behind her. There was no way I was going to trust that popsicle stick lover. Then again, she hurt Velvet before, too. Ugh. Just the thought of either of our wounds was enough to send shivers.

Light illuminated us (get it? Because...oh, who gives a shit?) as we stepped out. I still wanted to keep as much distance from that...you know. I selfishly wished that Velvet would do the same.

“Jeez, I can’t believe you guys didn’t defeat the bad guys yet? How hard could it be?” You-know-who (or you don’t, and if you don’t, lucky you) began questioning. Although not quite accusatory and more playful in tone.

“Gee, I don’t know. Army of guards, code that self-corrects, time travel devices, the list goes on,” Velvet was incensed, no longer playing around.

I didn’t look that artsy fartsy helper in the eye, but I was still compelled to speak up.

“I-It’s not just that!” My fists were balled. We didn’t have time to stand around and argue, but dammit, someone had to set the record straight gay. “So long as one Flashbulb members wishes to stay in power, then we may as well consider the whole thing a loss! They can always go back in time! This is the problem with the organization as a whole! Those guards may as well be members too, because even if they aren’t official members, they have a vested interest in killing anyone who threatens their power! What’s to stop them from forming a new Flashbulb? We can’t just go 75%!”

I began to huff and puff. Hyperventilate. Even though I didn’t see her face, as I refused to, I could just tell that she smiled in return.

“I see your point, and that’s why I’m saying, it’s easy to beat them! You just gotta send them back to their own time and leave them nothing in their possession! I don’t see what’s so hard about that!”

I didn’t give her a reply. I never wanted to speak to her, or around her again in the first place. But I spoke once and that was already too much.

“Now, this is a big organization, so there’s bound to be plenty of departments that don’t care about the lack of a Grandmaster Flash. In fact, they might have been elated when they heard that! You guys will probably have to deal with them. Well, you guys, or the ones who defect. I suspect there’s been a few departments who have been unhappy with this company for a while now, and probably want to tear the whole thing down. So you got that going for you.”

I heard every word, but none of them meant anything to me. Maybe they held significance, but I just let them flow in and out.

“I’ll be real with you guys, you’ll probably still need to kill some guards, unless you can strip them naked and send them flying to some deserted island. Either way, their bodies will have to go somewhere. I’m going to go help out these other departments who are on your side! I’ll be sending plenty of doctorates flying home!”

I looked down and noticed Velvet reach into her pocket and pull out the time travel device that she stole from Dr. Humble.

“I see what you’re saying, but I don’t even know how to use this thing,” she must have pointed to said device as she told Dr. Popsicle.

“Well gee, I’d help you figure it out, but I can already tell there’s more guards approaching.”

That was weird. I didn’t hear any. But then, I heard a little tap-tap sound in the back of my mind, and that could have been them in the distance.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re good at figuring things out under pressure. In fact, you should go back in that room you were in and kick those two men out.”

“Really? After we just left with our lives?” Velvet interrupted.

“What better way to practice a craft? As for you, Coriander…” Popsigirl spoke, and I felt like screaming for her not to say my name, but instead I said nothing. “I’ve come to return your backpack.”

I didn’t take it. Instead, Velvet took it and handed it to me. For what seemed like an eternity, I stood in place. Then, arms wrapped around me, the familiar arms that I’ve felt many times before, and I looked up.

“I get it,” Velvet whispered while still in her arms. “She’s gone now. You’re safe.”

“Right,” I nodded. “Let’s just go back there and show those two what’s what.”

At least if Twee-humble and Twee-modest wanted to put up a fight, I could fire my lasers. So for their sake, they should have played nice if they knew what was good for them.

In all my years, I never understood the hype with Audrey. Katharine, however, she was worth all the hype and then some. Really, where was the Katharine fandom when you needed them? If they wouldn’t show up, I would just have to be Special K.

Okay? Okay. Focus. OK? Right. Rikki-tikki...tic-tactile.

My auntie (no relation) assistant, Dr. Not-a-Doctor Juniper was right beside me as someone who just happened to be right beside me. Where were we? I think we were in hiding. In a closet or a broom room. Something about guns and guards and not wanting to die. That sounded about right.

“You look scared!” Junie B. Jones commented. Really, I heard that name somewhere before. Probably in a newspaper somewhere during some time period.

“I’m more than scared,” I assured her. “They probably don’t like traitors, just like they don’t like intruders.

“Well...that makes sense, I guess,” she gave it some thought. “I’ll be honest, I wish I had some kind of plan. I thought things were going pretty well back there with the Design Department, but now I’m losing hope again.”

“I know what you mean. It’s like a civil war here. Flashbulb vs. Flashbulb. It’s like we’re trying to pin each other down, but neither of us wants to be underneath the other.”

“...Did you have to phrase it that way?” She sounded concerned. I didn’t understand, and more than that, I didn’t think there was any other way to phrase it. It was just the reality of the situation.

Even in the darkened room, I could tell Juniper was sullen.

“The truth is...it seems like everyone’s doing their part, but I feel like I haven’t really done anything.”

“Don’t think of it that way! You came up with suggestions that probably wouldn’t have been implemented! I can tell you have a desire to help others, and sometimes that desire is good enough!”

“Gee, that’s real nice of you to say, but…” she looked away. “Is that really enough?”

I shrugged. “Who knows, but sometimes it is, so maybe one of these days, it will be!”

I pressed my ear against the door. From the sound of things, it seemed like all the commotion died down. Though the alarm kept sounding, there was nary a threatening aura to be heard.

I opened the door.

“I think we’re safe for now,” I told her.

Then, as if I just tempted fate (which hey, if I did, that’s pretty cool, I mean, it would have been bad for us, but it would also be just like one of those ironic lines in a movie), other faces met ours.

“Dr. Phil?” Juniper noticed one such face. Some chubbyish guy who looked ready to hit the hay. That was, until he smiled a big smile and right next to a human-shaped hay pile was Dr. Oz.

“Hey! Dr. Juniper! Look! Dr. Oz and I are a couple now!”

Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz shared a passionate kiss and everyone in the Marketing and Design department cheered.

“Don’t worry, I’m not a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Dr. Oz reassured us. “In fact, Dr. Phil and I have been spreading the word, just like you suggested, Juniper! We’ve got the Agriculture, the Housing, and the Clothing Department coming over to help us with possibly others on the way!”

Juniper smiled and I thought I saw a tear roll down her cheek, but she wiped it away, whatever it was she wiped away.

“I’m glad for you guys. I’m glad to have made some friends, even when I thought I’d make enemies and be scared for my life.”

I watched as those two departments and Juniper shared a hug with one another. Meanwhile, I had a No. 1 pencil in my mouth (a rarity. Most of them had been eked out of existence in favor of the inferior No. 2).

“Yeah, yeah, soak it in,” Dr. Toto cut the heartwarming moment short with a cross of his arms. “But we still gotta deal with those guards, as well as the departments that don’t want to defect.”

“Right. Good thing Dr. Glinda and I have constructed a shield to block any artillery,” Dr. Ozma declared.

“Dr. Glinda?” Juniper asked.

I pointed my tender pencil at the member of the design department with fuchsia hair.

“Oh! Fuchsia! So who is indigo?”

I wanted to burst into laughter. I never thought to call Dr. Ozma ‘Indigo’ before. I couldn’t help but think, “my name is Indigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to –” but I didn’t know where I was going with that.

“That’s Dr. ozma, Junebug.”

“Oh! Junebug! That’s a cute nickname!” Juniper grinned. With much brighter spirits, we charged on. I thought to let everyone know that it seemed like none of us had a clue where we were going, but I kept my mouth shut because nobody liked a buzzkill.

Anyway, things seemed to be going pretty fine and dandy. Some guards rushed in and after warning us to go back to our departments. Dr. Glinda and Dr. Ozma raised the protective barrier around the two groups. The next logical thing was the guards opening fire, but after their artillery was depleted, Juniper seemed to gain a new set of confidence and declared:

“We have gay and anime on our side!”

Those same guards ran up to us and tried to break the shield down by bashing their weapons against the shield. It seemed like that was actually working as I noticed our shield start to break. But before it broke fully, each of the guards fell to the ground. Dr. Toto looked confused, but once everyone saw who had taken the guards down, we all froze in fear: the dreaded Dr. Katsushika stood, with several giant marionette dolls beside her.

“Who let her out of her cage?” Dr. Glinda asked as she trembled.

“Coming out of my cage and I’ve been...doing...just…” Juniper muttered, her teeth chattered. Must have been a nervous tick of hers. Cute.

“Nice revolution you have there. Shame if something were to happen to it,” Dr. Katsushika grinned. We all got ready to scream and run, until that same artist laughed. “I’m just messing with you guys! I’m on your side! Let’s go!”

Relieved, we followed behind her. I recall Juniper asked Dr. Katsushika something like, “why’s everyone so scared of you?”

To which Dr. Katsushika replied, “People tend to think I’m evil, that’s all.”

“Aw, I’m sure you’re not that bad. You’re probably just misunderstood.”

“Right!” Dr. Katsushika agreed. “Just give me five, no, ten years, and I’ll be a full-fledged artist!”

It was really nice to see everyone come together, even if it was for the purpose of making us all break apart. Would our organization really be no more? And if so, what would that make me, then? That thought was fraught with a frailty I couldn’t fathom. Some eternal entity, falling. I hoped at least one of us could see the end, if not me, but for the moment, I chose to close my eyes and wait for whatever outcome.

Two figures sitting. Both of us humanoid. Both of us eager for it all to end. Neither of us human. Well, one may be, but at times I knew better. Then at times I knew worse. Even to the bitter end, I couldn’t keep myself consistent.

“I never really cared whether The Flashbulb was defeated or not,” I said once I managed a split hair of clarity. “I always considered them too easy a target. Anger was fine, but anger wouldn’t last me. My true frustration was finding something that would.”

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, or none of the above, looked down on me. Not with pity, not in contempt, but just because they sat on a rock while I sat on a flat surface.

“Is it frustrating?”

“I can’t...be happy...if I don’t find something...that will last me...until death...but...being immortal...makes things...all that more...difficult.”

I didn’t need to space out all of those words. I think I just wanted to for dramatic effect.

“I see, then!” That bright light beamed.

I couldn’t help but smile, even after everything that happened. All that I caused, and all that I didn’t. What I let happen and what I perpetuated. I still never found what I thought to be happiness. Soon, even the dissatisfaction would be gone.

#happiness overload #penultimate chapter #woo #writing #scifi #action #drama #comedy #reference overload #fiction #stories

2 notes · View notes

jae-bummer · 5 years

Text

A Perfect View

Request: Hellow! Can I ask for something really fluffy with Jay Park? Maybe a first kiss or anything of your choice? Thank you angel💕

Pairing: Jay Park x Reader

Genre: Fluff

**Warning: Rough language...cause that’s how I write for Jay Park.

“28 days,” Jay grumbled, pacing back and forth before his living room window. His brows were furrowing in frustration as he put one foot before the other. “A long 28 days.”

“Since you last saw saw each other?” Gray asked lazily, looking up from his phone screen.

“Since we’ve been dating,” Jay said shortly, continuing his angst-filled stroll.

“Okay,” Grey hummed. Jay could tell his friend was completely disinterested, which seemed to irk him even further.

“We still haven’t kissed,” Jay blurted, unable to hold in his personal torment any longer.

“Who?” Gray sighed, finally putting down his cell.

Jay bit his lip in an effort to not roll his eyes. “Do you need the cliff notes, motherfucker? Y/N and me!”

Gray blinked a few times in confusion before his mouth opened slightly in surprise. “You haven’t kissed?”

Jay solemnly shook his head.

“But...you’re Jay Park,” Gray chuckled.

Jay tried to hide his laugh as well before letting out a groan. “I think that’s the problem.

Actually, he knew it was the problem. Not that it was necessarily a problem. Most days he thoroughly enjoyed being Jay Park, but in this certain circumstance, it seemed to be a bit problematic.

“Is there a reason?” Gray asked, tilting his head.

“Probably,” Jay sighed. “Well...yes, there is, but I feel kind of shitty about it.”

“Not much hits your conscience,” Gray hummed. “So it must be serious.”

Jay had met you at a record shop located in a back alley somewhere in Hongdae. Record shops were a favorite of his, even considering his collection was relatively small. He loved the idea of having something tangible in his hands after creating music. In a dystopian future where all computers inevitably failed, none of his music would be accessible on digital platforms. His music could always play within those small grooves carved into the vinyl though.

Post-apocalyptic existential crisis aside, he had wandered into the shop for a reason, but quickly realized that reason had pivoted to become you. With his cap pulled low over his eyes, and his mask secured over his lips, he had been elbow deep into the hip hop bins. Hearing a light giggle, he looked up to find you on the opposite side of the isle, scanning through albums as well. He instantly became less preoccupied with what was in his hands, and more at what was before his eyes.

“Can I help you?” you had chirped, sending him a glare.

Letting his creepy smile turn into a grimace, Jay immediately realized that 90% of his face was covered up. You probably had thought he was going to kidnap you.

“Sorry mami,” Jay chuckled, ripping off his mask and tilting his hat to sit further back on his forehead. “I don’t mean to bother you, but daaamn.”

“I’m not sure if you think you’re giving a compliment?” you deadpanned.

“My apologies again,” Jay had stuttered, suddenly more nervous than he could ever recall being in front of someone he was interested in. “It’s just been quite some time since I’ve talked to such a tasty-”

You rolled your eyes, causing him to halt. He could hardly believe it as you spun on your heel and focused on the record table opposite you.

Blinking slowly, he attempted to recover. Normally he would have just left it at that. Find another person to lick his wounds with later, but no, he couldn’t give up just yet.

“Excuse me,” he cooed, shuffling around the tables and moving to stand beside you. “Did I say something to offend?”

“You didn’t have to,” you hummed, not even bothering to give him the dignity of eye contact. “I know your type.”

“My type?” he questioned.

“You’re Jay Park,” you croaked, finally tilting a brow as you turned. “Do you think I live under a rock? I would probably be safer if I did to be honest...”

“I don’t know what you’re assuming about me, but-”

“I don’t have to assume anything,” you said, cutting him off again. “Because I know. I do not want to get involved with you, so please leave me alone.”

Jay had nodded, taking the hint.

But he wasn’t one to give up.

Retreating to the register to finish his purchases, he left a $100 bill with the cashier. He had instructed to cover your purchase, and let the attendant pocket what was left over.

Just as long as the attendant handed over the small card with his name and number on it.

It was two days before you finally bothered to text him.

Not because you necessarily wanted to, but because there was something you couldn’t ignore about Jay Park. His charm and good looks aside, you knew why he had approached you, and you knew you needed to set boundaries.

“I have to prove I’m not a complete fuck boy before Y/N will ever put her lips on me,” Jay grumbled to Gray. “Or really show any type of intimacy I guess.”

“So...you’re not to be trusted?” Gray laughed.

“I mean...if I asked you on a date, and you knew only my public image, would you trust me?” Jay grinned.

“Okay, fair,” he nodded. “Only if the world knew how boring the reality of your life was.”

“I rap about sex and parties,” Jay grumbled. “But really I binge watched the Bachelorette last night.”

“Oh yeah? Which season, I thought about starting-” Gray began, only to catch himself. “Did Y/N explicitly tell you this?”

“Well...in so many words,” Jay sighed. “She has up some thick fucking walls. Everyone has a story about how they’ve been shitted on romantically, but I haven’t been privileged enough to learn the finer details of hers. She never said she wouldn’t kiss me...or that she doesn’t trust me, but I can tell.”

“You’ve been dating for nearly a month,” Gray muttered. “If it hasn’t happened by now...”

“Doesn’t look good, does it?” Jay chuckled sadly.

You leaned against the bars of Jay’s balcony and took a deep breathe in. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to go to his apartment, and you were glad that you had. The view from his floor was absolutely incredible. You hadn’t seen sky lines like this in the entirety of your life.

Glancing over your shoulder at your handsome host, you tried to hide your smile. He was looking at you with the same interest that you were looking at the night sky.

“You look like you have something to say,” you chuckled, looking back out to the city below.

“Oh, you know I always have something to say baby girl,” he hummed. “Depends on how R-rated you want it to be.”

“You’re disgusting,” you grumbled.

“You love it,” he cooed.

You shook your head, setting your elbow on the banister, and your chin on your palm.

“And your silence says everything,” he sang, taking the few steps to separate the space between the two of you. Leaning his forearms against the bar, he swiveled his face to glance in your direction. “Tell me something.”

“Something specifically? Or anything?” you smirked. You absolutely loathed that you cared so much about the man beside you. He was supposed to be a playboy. He was supposed to embody everything you should stay away from.

But no, you kept finding yourself running faster and faster toward him.

“Specific,” he grinned. “Why has it taken you so long to come here?”

“Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” you hummed, trying to keep your voice even. He was just as pleased about you visiting as you had been at the view.

“Like you would EVER give me the wrong idea,” he laughed. “I’m well aware of our unspoken agreement.”

Lifting your brows, you straightened, and turned to him. “Unspoken agreement?”

“You don’t trust me,” Jay confirmed. Something in his flawless face was pained.

“Oh?” you croaked. You felt as if your heart had dropped to your stomach. He really thought that?

“Well, do you?” he asked, tilting his head as if he were a puppy.

It was complicated. You knew that, and you knew that he knew that. You had just as many trust issues as the next person, but maybe it was time you started to go a little easier on Jay.

He was nothing like what you had imagined. Conceited, self-centered, and sex-driven. No, he wasn’t anything like that at all. In the brief time he had allowed you into his life, he was driven, kind, and loyal at all times. He cared fiercely for those around him, and was willing to make you one of those people.

So maybe it was time you let him.

Especially if he was willing to accept you, sharp edges and all.

“I do,” you swallowed.

His eyes grew wide as he inspected your face.

“Believe me or don’t,” you sighed, looking down to your shoes.

“I believe you,” he nodded. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“What were you expecting?” you asked, dreading the answer.

“A dirty look,” he chuckled.

You tried not to roll your eyes, and attempted to hide the smile he always seemed to insight.

“You’re probably getting sick of those, aren’t you?” you grinned. Moving forward a step, you took his hand into yours. Mild shock filled his face as he looked down to your now intertwined fingers.

“I don’t get sick of any look you give me,” he smirked. “I just like when you look at me.”

This time you allowed your eyes to complete a roll.

“Even when they’re dirty,” he cooed, chewing on his lip.

The tone of his voice caused your stomach to knot, and send your eyes peering up at him again. He was much closer than you had anticipated, his breathing quiet and slow.

“...wouldn’t it be a shame,” he began, tilting his head to get a better view of you. He lifted up his free hand and ran a finger along your cheek. “If we let this view go to waste, and not commemorate the moment?”

“This view?” you croaked. “I could always come over again and it would be the same view.”

“No, not of Seoul,” he chuckled softly. “I’m talking about this view of you.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“I won’t kiss you unless you want me to,” he whispered. “Not until you’re ready.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be,” you admitted.

“Then we can wait,” he nodded.

“But I don’t want to wait,” you continued. “Not anymore.”

Jay nodded again, sliding his feet the few possible centimeters to press his body against yours. You thought you would stop breathing as you felt his warmth against you, but knew if you did, you wouldn’t get to enjoy this moment.

“I’ve waited 28 days for this,” he chuckled.

“You’ve counted?” you gasped.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he grinned. “Because I’ve wanted to kiss you since day one.”

“Then you should probably start making up for lost time then,” you said quietly.

Jay’s smile was gorgeous as it grew closer, his lips not wasting another moment. Crashing into yours with intensity you didn’t know existed in such an intimate action, you nearly fell backwards. Hardly able to keep the smile from appearing between his gentle motions, Jay used his mouth with tenderness. His fingers had long since abandoned yours, with both hands now sweetly cradling your face. If you had felt out of breath before, your oxygen levels were currently at a critical low. His lips were soft, and with no surprise, he was an amazing kisser. With every renewed vigor, a spark would ignite in your stomach.

After minutes that seemed like much less, Jay finally leaned away from you and took a deep breath. “If we keep this up, we’ll be out here all night.”

“And you’re saying that like it’s an issue?” you grinned.

“I think the view of my couch with that ass cuddled up on me is just as good as this one,” he hummed. “I may even kiss you a there too if you’re lucky.”

You shook your head, reaching up to run your hand along his jaw. “I think I’m pretty lucky already.”

#jay park #jay park fluff #jay park fic #jay park fanfic #jay park scenario #jay park oneshot #jay park drabble #boyfriend jay park #dating jay park #aomg #park jaebum

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ladywindrunner · 4 years

Text

Due to… whatever in god’s name Blizzard is doing, I’ve decided I’m officially making Sylvanas Windrunner canon-divergent. Do not get me wrong, Sylvanas will continue to be an absolute bitch and snake, but I’m no longer going to struggle to fit her into whatever unhinged supervillain Blizzard wants her to be.

From here on out, the verse The Dark Lady will follow the below historical timeline. I will of course update my page to reflect the divergence but – you’ve all been warned.

a very special thank you to @fatesblades @windrunnerrs & @lady-proudmoore for helping me sort through this clusterfuck of an expansion, and ensuring I kept the divergence accurate and straightforward.

please look under the cut for the complete rewrite ❤︎ thank you all for your patience c:

QUICK FACTS:

Sylvanas would never agree or entertain any arrangement with the Jailer. She will never serve another, and that includes some random being in the Shadowlands. Her allegiance with the Horde irks her enough, but she suffers through it out convenience and need.

The Forsaken need allies, they do not need another death-dealing master who wishes to use them as a weapon.

(the only way Blizzard could salvage that plot is if she planned on betraying the Jailer, but it’s still… tired and urgh.)

She is absolutely a treacherous bitch and you should definitely not trust her (especially if you’re alive).

Sylvanas does not, and probably will never respect Anduin as a king. He’s nothing but a child leading nations. She would absolutely use his naivety and good nature against him.

She is a manipulator, and will never brazenly attack an enemy or insinuate herself in a plot unless said person is either someone she can trust (Nathanos) or she’s about to murder them (see: everyone else).

The Forsaken are her people, and she cares about their well-being. If she didn’t it would almost be as if the last years of content and character development meant fuck all for the sake of needing a villain (i’m not bitter, you’re bitter).

THE DARK LADY // A DEADLY BARGAIN (THE DEATH OF VOL’JIN)

Following the Battle for the Broken Shore, as Vol’jin struggles against his mortal wound and the insidious taint of Fel within him… “You do not honestly believe Baine will be beneficial for the Sin’dorei.” Sylvanas’ remark strikes a painful chord within the Regent-Lord, despite his mistrust of her intentions. He watches her with obvious suspicion.

If the Windrunner he knew still lingered in the woman before him, she’d long become impossible to glimpse.

“It does not surprise me you speak of treachery,” Lor’themar counters, eyes narrowed. “Do you remember nothing of loyalty, Banshee Queen?”

Her smirk vile, as is the crimson glare of her dead eyes.

“Do not play as if you care for the Tauren, Lor’themar,” she chuckles, “And I am not suggesting we kill Baine, I am simply bringing a far more agreeable solution to the forefront.”

“Vol’jin will never name you,” Lor’themar scowls. He does not care for the troll, nor his obvious pick, but Sylvanas would be the very last name on the list. She was Queen of the Forsaken, a viper lurking in the tall grass.

The Sin’dorei was having trouble recalling a soul she hadn’t betrayed.

“Imagine if he were to pass with only a chosen few present,” she mused aloud, “Only those few would know which name he spoke…”

“And what benefit do you bring to the Sin’dorei?” Lor’themar nearly snarled. He had not forgotten her aid in seeing his people into the Horde, but she’d been quick to use that against him.

The comment annoys her; she gives him a piercing glare.

“We’re at war, Lor’themar,” she snaps. Her tone lacks its ordinary taunting tone – it is flat with cruel fact. “Do tell me, who do you believe would lead the Horde to victory? Baine? He treasures peace more than sense. He would give ground when he should hold. Gallywix would sell us all for a single gold coin if it’d see his own life spared, and I imagine the Legion can offer him far more.”

If Lor’themar agreed to the plan, she could sway Gallywix easily with payment. The very reason she didn’t wish for the goblin to be in charge, was also the best method of convincing the merchant lord to lie.

“And the last orc who led the Horde, led us into war, and is arguably responsible for the catastrophe we have now…” Sylvanas quirked a brow at the man, her smile returning, “So who does that leave? You?” She stifled half a chuckle, “a man who doesn’t even wish to lead his own people. You have the military sense, Lor’themar. You simply do not possess the ambition.”

He glowered at her, “I would sooner lead the Horde than trust you to remember who came to your aid.”

Windrunner said nothing for a moment, her smile growing slightly as she considered him. He’d grown wiser.

“Pray-tell then Regent-Lord, what do you want in return?”

Vol’jin’s death came swiftly, the grievous wound causing the troll untold agony before he slips away (the speed would have been surprising to the three, if they hadn’t possessed the knowledge that foreign poison masked by the demonic influence, was raging through the Warchief’s veins). Sylvanas Windrunner, Gallywix, and Lor’themar Theron witness the man’s demise together.

His last decree as Warchief was to name Baine Bloodhoof to take his place.

His final command would never reach the others, however. Their lies spun well, Sylvanas saw herself rise to become Warchief.

THE RECLUSIVE WARCHIEF // RECLAIMING THE GHOSTLANDS (POST-LEGION)

Peace is not something Sylvanas handles well. The idleness of it bothers her, but she is not foolish enough to think the Horde wishes to be dragged into another war (not one where the Horde is the aggressor). She tolerates the truce about as well as one can imagine. She is a more reclusive Warchief, she does not care for Orgrimmar, she’d rather spend her time with the Forsaken – who have extended a helping hand to the Sin’dorei in reclaiming the Ghostlands.

A kind gesture, that some see as Sylvanas attempt to placate the more concerned members of the Horde leadership. Some see it as a welcomed change to her character, while others watch her with increased suspicion.

It does help repair a fractured relationship between the Forsaken the Sin’dorei.

An unintended, but welcomed happening while Windrunner keeps her word to Lor’themar.

A GLIMPSE OF PEACE // RECONCILIATION (BEFORE THE STORM)

Sylvanas does not support the meeting between the Forsaken and their living family. Following the catastrophic meeting between she and her two sisters, the Banshee Queen is firmly under the belief that it will lead to nothing but heartbreak and undue pain. The living cannot see past undeath, no matter what they claim.

Receiving the missive from Anduin does nothing but irritate her. His good intentions are viewed by her as a form of manipulation, though she does entertain that he is simply naïve enough to believe that somehow the idea may work to heal old wounds.

She permits the meeting to take place, and is not surprised to see Forsaken turned away by the living.

She is taken aback when she witnesses other families accepting their undead companions. She watches in silence as her people find the peace that has eluded her for years.

“My Queen,” Nathanos’ voice is hushed and careful. She has said nothing for some time, her expression is something unreadable. The crimson light behind her cool eyes has fizzled out, leaving nothing but grey.

Sylvanas glances to her champion.

The gaze is different.He does not recognize at first.

Then he recalls what it is.

Hurt.

In that fleeting moment, she conveys how pained she was. The agony that reconciliation is possible, just not for her.

Sylvanas leaves the exchange, feigning disinterest.

THE SUNDERING OF GILNEAS // THE WAR OF WOLVES (POST-BTS, APPROXIMATELY WHEN TELDRASSIL BURNED)

Yet the Warchief is not without her machinations. She schemes against her closest enemy, the one who ruined her attempts at subduing Eyir, while also discovering a way to bring back into the fold her wayward Forsaken who’ve gone to their living families.

With peace looming, Sylvanas sets to work placing insurgents within Gilneas. Through them, the Banshee Queen ensures that it is Gilneas who broke the armistice. Witnesses on both sides saw Worgen soldiers attacking Forsaken troops.

She calls for the Forsaken in Stormwind to return to Lordaeron, citing concerns over their safety as the Alliance has proven they are incapable of peace with the undead.

Most return to the Horde, peace once again hanging by thread. They have no reason to believe they too have fallen prey to her cunning ruse.

The peace broken, Sylvanas needs no other reason to march on Gilneas. Undead forces wait before Greymane gate, and in response the Gilneans prepare for war.

But it is not the Forsaken who raze Gilneas. Sylvanas engages the enemy in frivolous skirmishes, biding her time until the orcish fleet reaches the shores of the enemy kingdom.

The orcs sweep across Gilneas from the sea, while the Forsaken push inwards from the borders of Lordaeron.

With nowhere to run, the stationed Alliance forces succumb to the combined might of the pincer strike. They simply cannot fight a war on two fronts, and it is not long before they collapse.

Horde soldiers are careful not to cut down any man who surrenders, a specific instruction from their Warchief. A gesture seen as a mercy (while in reality, a convenient manipulation by the Banshee Queen, further implicating Gilneas as the aggressor, and that she is trying to be a worthy leader).

Gilneas is inducted into Lordaeron and becomes Forsaken territory. Prisoners are treated with some dignity. Only a handful are executed when they attempt a desperate escape that inevitably fails.

Sylvanas wastes no time raising those who fought against her as Forsaken, swelling her numbers while the Horde celebrates a well fought victory.

A COLD WAR // TWO QUEENS OF A NATION (AROUND THE TIME OF THE SIEGE OF LORDAERON)

Peace returns, though in the form of a cold war. Relations between the Horde and Alliance are strained, but there is little evidence that anyone is going to break the peace. Sylvanas knows that Genn is biting at the bit for vengeance, and delights in the knowledge that eventually the old dog is going to shatter the truce on his own accord.

She is careful to ensure the Forsaken think little of Calia Menethil (who has since revealed herself). Who is she to return now and call herself queen of anyone or anything? She uses propaganda so her people see it as Alliance mind-games.

The Dark Lady watches over them, not a Menethil.

While she doesn’t care for the unforeseen irritation, at the moment she can do nothing about Calia without the assumption she is responsible for it.

Sylvanas eventually trades the Alliance prisoners for Zul and Talanji. Always seeking allies, they are inducted into the Horde, but find themselves suffering through the delicate peace.

WHISPERS FROM BEYOND // THE SEIGE OF NAZJATAR (RISE OF AZSHARA)

The Speaker of the Horde brings Sylvanas the infamous dagger Blade of the Black Empire, though they claim to have little recollection as to why. While a valuable object, it was not one that the Warchief was seeking out (and the lack of knowledge the Speaker possess, makes the Banshee Queen nervous). She was suspicious of the motivation of the individual who gave it to her, but took the offering despite the uncertainty.

The struggling peace between the Alliance and the Horde is somehow sustaining itself (much to the annoyance of Sylvanas, who cannot break the peace openly). She permits the Forsaken to visit their families, though they must return for their own safety (having ample success in convincing her people the majority of the living are notto be trusted), and she does allow limited numbers of humans into Lordaeron to see their families.

When the mysterious Empress Azshara contacts her, Sylvanas appears to cement an agreement that would see the Alliance decimated, clearing the way for the Horde to rise. Through some means Sylvanas cannot ascertain, the Queen of the Naga has become aware of her possession of Blade of the Black Empire.

She agrees to meet Azshara, and keeps the meeting secret from all but her Champion Nathanos.

Queen Azshara’s request is simple, Sylvanas gives her the dagger in exchange for something. Windrunner scoffs at the idea at first, refusing to part with such an item.

“Surely you wish to do away with the Alliance pests,” Azshara cooed, smirking as she spotted the ever so subtle shift in the Banshee Queen’s form. Of course she was already aware of the answer. She’d spent a long time observing the surface world, ensuring she’d have every advantage. “And I wish to be rid of N’Zoth...”

“I will not part with the dagger,” Sylvanas states, though she chuckles at the apparent impasse. “But perhaps there is an agreement to be made…”

The arrangement was simple.

Azshara would lure the Alliance fleet out into the ocean, and swallow it into her domain.

She would, of course, manipulate this to all appear as N’zoth’s bidding – the Old God was locked away in his failing prison. While his escape was inevitable (though potentially millennia away), he’d be none the wiser in believing Azshara discovered a method to release him.

The Hero of the Alliance would wield the Heart of Azeroth to defeat Azshara and destroy the Old God for good. N’zoth posed such a threat that the High King would not lose an opportunity to strike at the nefarious enemy.

With the Alliance none the wiser, Azshara would decimate their forces, using her imposing naga and sea-monsters to whittle away at their army.

That is when the Horde, lead by Sylvanas, sweeps in to rescue whatever’s left of the Alliance.

This would all be carefully planned of course, to ensure the Horde arrives too late to stop the Hero of the Alliance from unleashing the Heart of Azeroth’s power upon the prison.

N’zoth’s jail will be flung open, and in that moment – Sylvanas will be the one to strike at the Old God and slay it.

Azshara will feign being free of his influence, and slink away into the darkness of the sea. The Horde will appear as heroes.

Unfortunately for Sylvanas, the plan goes awry.

Azshara lures the Alliance out into the ocean and attacks. While she holds off their forces, she does not unleash her full might until the Horde arrives.

The Horde’s fleet arrives earlier then intended due to Lor’themar Theron and Thalyssra’s efforts to speed up the ships and save more lives. Sylvanas finds herself unable to sabotage their efforts without risking her deal be exposed.

Worse yet, it is only when they arrive that Azshara unleashes her full might. She absolutely decimates the Alliance and Horde, intent on slaughtering whoever stands in her way to obtain the blade.

The dagger comes to be possessed by the Naga Queen when she catches Sylvanas off-guard. The two women fight, but Sylvanas is forced to relinquish the knife when Azshara bests her with potent spells.

She’s spared, seeing herself mocked by the Empress and reminded to keep her mouth shut, otherwise everyone will know of their agreement.

Thus it becomes a hasty rush to alert the Hero of the Alliance to the truth of the Heart of Azeroth’s purpose, but Sylvanas and her agents are too late.

Her failure sees N’Zoth freed, though there is a satisfaction in seeing Azshara temporarily subdued.

THE TASTE OF FAILURE // THE PROMISE OF AN OLD GOD (VISIONS OF N’ZOTH)

With the Old God freed from his prison, it wasn’t long before N’Zoth began to corrupt the world. He sent visions into the minds of people, whispering of untold horrors that were near-to arriving.

Not even Sylvanas Windrunner was immune to his insidious powers.

The Horde’s pride, once bolstered by a number of strategic victories – is in tatters after Empress Azshara laid waste to them all.

Sylvanas withdraws to Lordaeron, locking herself away as she attempts to regain her footing after such a catastrophic failure. Her pride had seen her trust Azshara, a foolish move that cost her much of her power, despite leaders of the Horde thinking her notions of saving lives good and honourable.

With little option, the Horde and Alliance work together to fight against N’Zoth. The Banshee Queen does not enjoy being so reliant on the Alliance, but she endures the displeasure out of sheer necessity.

A Horrific Vision of Sylvanas Windrunner is present in Capital City in place of Thrall in Orgrimmar.

N’Zoth preyed on Sylvanas’ fear of death, twisting her mind until she believed only the Old God could grant her immortality. Lordaeron is a writhing, disgusting tomb of void-infused undead and ghosts, who feed off live prisoners in grisly rituals.

Occasionally the city is rocked by a deafening, bone-rattling wail.

ENDURING PEACE // AFTERMATH (POST VISIONS OF N’ZOTH)

Outwardly, the Horde enjoys its lasting peace with the Alliance. As both sides nurse their wounds, Sylvanas is distracted by a growing sensation that all is not right.

While she has no proof of manipulation, the Warchief cannot shake the notion that a new, terrible threat has been watching Azeroth for some time. She finds herself on edge, and sending scouts to all corners of the known world to attempt to find some inkling of what she may be sensing (an endeavour made easier due to the armistice, perhaps the only benefit she’s believed its had).

She also must suffer with the knowledge that Azshara is alive. Windrunner plots the empress’ downfall, though the process is slow and meticulous. She underestimated the queen’s abilities once, and it cost her both her pride, and the dagger.

Sylvanas does not know why Azshara kept their deal secret, but she imagines it is due to some sort of trick the naga will attempt later.

#✧:: the dark lady ( warcraft )#// history rewrite complete #// this took so long T-T #// rachel you're brave for reading this over #//snakevanas is alive and well #// okay im going to toddle off and maybe do replies so i never have to look at this again xD

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bodytothefifthpower · 5 years

Note

Would you be able to go into the katya stuff if you dont mind ?? Im not sure if its being released after this so im just curious what exactly happened

Okay so clearly after all of the speculation and hostility in the fandom recently, some people are interested to learn how exactly Trixie Mattel: Moving Parts portrays Katya. I was at the premiere at Tribeca, and I’m happy to give you a brief overview of what was shown and my opinions on it.

FROM THIS POINT ON THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR TRIXIE MATTEL: MOVING PARTS! SCROLL PAST NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT ANY SPOILERS!

So while this is a film about Brian Firkus, the lynchpin of the whole film (the underpinning that holds the story together) is really Trixie & Katya’s relationship. Which is perfectly reasonable! They are a huge part of each other’s lives, and they just happened to be filming this documentary while all of Katya’s health issues were going on. To completely strike what happened from the record would, frankly, probably mean they couldn’t use a lot of the footage they had- to the point where I really think it could’ve scrapped whole chunks of the movie.

One of the first things they show in the film is Katya gifting Trixie with dolls that look like the two of them; it really portrays their friendship in a lovely light. Trixie also talks about how much she loves Katya and loves working with her, and about how everyone got to see their friendship develop over the course of filming UNHhhh. For those of us who know what’s coming, this obviously produces a lot of anxiety. But I have to tell you: that is just good filmmaking. To create a level of suspense like that is almost Greek Tragedy-eqsue with its dramatic irony.

The next part I’m going to talk about is one of the parts everyone is worried about: Katya’s last day on set at the Trixie & Katya Show. You can tell she’s unwell; she has a very short temper and very little patience for anything happening around her. But she also says “What I need is to quit, but she [Trixie] is my friend and I won’t do that to her.” Even though Katya is clearly unwell, the perspective of the film also paints her as sympathetic. Trixie’s reactions to what’s happening really does indicate that Katya is not in her right mind, and it’s not her fault. Obviously it hurt Trixie, for multiple reasons: one of her best friends is unwell, it seems like an important relationship in her life- and we learn that she doesn’t have a lot of them- is unraveling, and in addition to that, what’s happening could potentially permanently damage her career. The fact that she handles all of those issues with such humility and grace, while still trying to be understanding towards and a good friend to Katya really, REALLY speaks to her character.

The part that is most unflattering to Katya are the text messages she sends to Trixie after the premiere of All Stars 3. She says some incredibly nasty things about Trixie. She is downright mean. For those of us who know Katya though, that is just a clear indicator of how sick she was. I think we all know Katya in her right mind would not send someone- let alone one of her best friends- messages like that. But yeah, I can see how someone might feel hostile towards Katya after seeing what she did. But again, this is a thing that happened. It’s not made up for the sake of the film, and it’s not anyone slandering Katya’s name; it’s a real thing that really happened, and the only difference is that now you know about it. And again, I would like to remind everyone that this is a film about Trixie, not about Katya. So while you do walk away from the scene feeling sad for Katya (because obviously no one wants her to be unravelling like that), you mainly feel bad for Trixie. She clearly doesn’t deserve any of the ire Katya is throwing at her, as we’ve seen her trying to be a good friend. And that is what is expected! This is a film about Trixie, you know? Of course she’s the protagonist!

Overall, through the whole arc of the film that focuses on the dissolution of Trixie & Katya’s friendship the theme is really that Trixie wishes Katya was better, because she misses her friend. That’s the take away. Not that Katya is evil or anything, but that Trixie misses her friend. So do I think the film portrays Katya in a negative light? No. I think it shows the things she did- and they were not good things by any means- but, 1. It doesn’t blame her for her mental illness or addiction, and 2. It isn’t focused on the things that Katya did, but the way that it affected Trixie.

By the end of the film, we see that Trixie and Katya are friends again. It shows them having some funny- and at times tender- interactions backstage at Trixie’s LA Moving Parts show. Katya mentions that she’s better now, and we wrap up the film with Trixie & Katya back together again, and ready to take on the world. In terms of the storyline, it does feel like there’s a bit missing, because it goes from Trixie & Katya not being friends- and the uncertainty in the air over that- to suddenly they’re friends again with no explanation. From a story standpoint, I wish they would’ve included something about how they started on the road to recovering their friendship, rather than just jumping to it recovered.

Personally, I think the reason some fans are so freaked out about the way Katya is portrayed in the film is because they hold her up as this beacon of perfection. She’s mentally ill, but she’s still so funny and personable. She’s an addict, but she doesn’t appear to struggle- or if she does, she turns it into comedy. I think she’s what a lot of people who view themselves as broken hope they can be. But she’s not perfect. She is capable of hurting people. She’s capable of making horrible decisions, and getting sick, and relapsing, and ruining friendships, and honestly that is just the reality of it. We’re all capable of things like that! But you don’t love Katya because she’s perfect, you love her because she’s real. So if you’re angry in the name of your love for her that her reality is being shown, it’s possible that you love the idea of Katya, and you love what she represents, but you might not love the man himself. Just some food for thought.

Can you imagine if Katya heard everyone freaking out about the film portraying her in a bad light? The kind of pressure that’d put on her, to feel like her fans will only like her or support her provided she doesn’t slip up? Certainly that is not conducive to being supportive of her. Personally, I think holding celebrities to a level of perfection is just unfair. I think we as a fandom need to accept that sometimes Katya may not be well, and sometimes she might make mistakes, and it’s okay to acknowledge the things that have happened, and to still continue to love her.

One thing I can tell you for certain is that Trixie is NOT exploiting or taking advantage of Katya. From a purely legal standpoint, the filmmakers would have had to get Katya’s written consent to have her in the film. Katya quite literally would have had to sign off on it. Additionally, Trixie said that Katya had already seen the film. Katya was already aware of what was going to be shown. People seem to forget that Katya is a grown-ass man with autonomy, and that it wouldn’t have gone ahead without her foreknowledge. And after watching the film, I can say with certainty that Trixie absolutely wouldn’t have kept in anything that Katya didn’t okay; she’s too good and too thoughtful of a person to do something like that.

Another major thing people are forgetting, it seems, is that this is not a movie about Katya! This is about Trixie! There is a part in the movie where she says something along the lines of: “No one will want me without Katya.” It absolutely breaks my heart to think that Trixie has no idea how much we love her on her own, how much she means to us, how funny and talented she is by herself, and how much worth she has by herself. And the fact that all anyone wants to talk about is Katya- regarding Trixie’s movie- really irks me. Because she’s basically being proven right.

My last big point I’d like to make is directly related to something Trixie says in the film. She talks about how she gave all of those vague answers about Katya because it wasn’t her story to share, and she didn’t want to make the issue about herself when it clearly wasn’t. She points out that other queens were like, “we all struggle with things! Personally, I’ve dealt with [blank]!” And while the other queens were trying to demonstrate that Katya wasn’t alone, what they were really doing was making it about themselves. I can’t help but see a parallel in the fans that are angry over Katya’s portrayal in this film; the issue is about Katya, and Katya is clearly fine with it, so when you’re freaking out over it, aren’t you really just making it about yourself?

So, there are a plethora of reasons I think people should stop sending hate Trixie’s way because of this movie:

1. This is Trixie’s story. This is really what happened over the past year. To cut half of it out would be doing a disservice to Trixie and to the filmmakers.

2. The filmmakers had final say. They shot all the footage and edited it all together. Trixie really had no part in the creation of this movie aside from being the subject of it, and it’s not fair to throw hate her way for something she had very little control over; that’s like being mad at an actor for a decision the showrunners made.

3. To cut out the parts where Katya is unwell would be a disservice to Katya, because it says “we only want you when you’re perfect.”

4. Maybe someone who is struggling with addiction or who has a loved one struggling with addiction needs to see something like this! No one is being helped by just sweeping all the ugly parts under the rug.

5. Both of them have seen the movie, knew what was going to be shown, and were clearly okay with it because it went ahead and made the final cut.

6. It’s not anyone else’s business how either Trixie or Katya live their lives, or what they choose to share with their public.

7. Katya is not painted as some kind of monster. She’s painted as someone who is mentally unwell, sometimes sympathetic, sometimes not, but ultimately as a flawed human being, who does in fact get a redemption arc!

8. This is a movie about Trixie, not about Katya, and I think people need to respect that and stop shifting the focus.

In conclusion, what I walked away from this movie with was that, yes, it was very sad and at times disturbing to see Katya so hurt and broken. But more than anything, I walked away with an appreciation for Brian Firkus. For how selfless, and caring, and giving, and hardworking the man behind Trixie is. If you get a chance to see Trixie Mattel: Moving Parts I highly recommend you do so; I hope you’ll be just as in awe of Trixie as I am.

#I tried to be as clear as possible but let me know if you want further thoughts or clarifications!#honestly these are just my thoughts on the katya situation I have a lot more thoughts on the whole #specifically about how incredibly thoughtful and generous trixie is an her whole family dynamic #yes I did spend about two hours writing this- how was your Saturday night?#trixie mattel #trixie mattel: moving parts #brian firkus #katya zamolodchikova #brian mccook #long post #analysis #review #spoilers

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thebluelemontree · 5 years

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SanSan time! So in ASOIAF we get the Hand’s Tourney scene with Sansa & Sandor, and the whole “he was no true knight” moment. It seems like Sandor is still thinking she’s just a “little bird” here - but later, her father as Hand attaints Gregor, stripping him of his titles for his violent crimes. How do you think this makes Sandor feel about Sansa & his perceived seriousness of her moral ideals, considering his trauma re: Gregor being anointed and his other crimes covered up by everyone but Ned?

I don’t think Sandor was ready at the time to draw any positive conclusions between Sansa and her father, because his cynicism always gets in the way of that. While her compassion made him take notice, he doesn’t regard her beliefs as a good thing. To him, they are still woefully naive and a weakness that will only lead to being victimized by the strong and cruel. If Sansa is so ill-prepared for the brutality and bleakness of reality, well, he would point a very judgemental finger at her parents for that. This is not to say Sandor wasn’t quietly making observations about Ned, because I do think a few books in we see subtle indications that Ned’s character and decision to bring Gregor to justice perhaps did make an impression after all. And I think it’s his experience with Sansa that causes him to have a more charitable conception of Ned in hindsight rather than Ned influencing his view of Sansa.

It’s just that Sandor requires a lot of evidence over time before he will consider altering his opinions. He sees exactly what he expects to see, so his point of view is always validated. It takes more than just Sansa saying “he was no true knight,” as groundbreaking as that moment was. It’s precisely that fact that makes him want to work harder at trying to find the cracks in Sansa’s idealism to prove that it can’t be real. It’s only until the conclusion of the Blackwater scene that Sandor can finally accept that she is sincere in her beliefs by treating him with compassion when he least deserved it. To him, Sansa is such an anomaly that the idea of anyone else being that authentic and principled is an even bigger stretch of the imagination than she is.

And what experience does Sandor have with fathers doing right by their children? None. His own father covered up Gregor’s vicious attack and made him uphold the lie. Then he’s a witness to Tywin and Robert Baratheon’s parenting. Sandor always initially gives his life experiences more weight than any counterevidence he saw from Ned or Sansa.

We are given a glimpse of Sandor’s reaction upon hearing the news that Beric Dondarrion was sent by Ned to put down Gregor Clegane through Littlefinger:

Robert was in a fury [over the loss of the white hart], until he heard talk of some monstrous boar deeper in the forest. Then nothing would do but he must have it. Prince Joffrey returned this morning, with the Royces, Ser Balon Swann, and some twenty others of the party. The rest are still with the king.“

“The Hound?” Ned asked, frowning. Of all the Lannister party, Sandor Clegane was the one who concerned him the most, now that Ser Jaime had fled the city to join his father.

“Oh, returned with Joffrey, and went straight to the queen.” Littlefinger smiled. “I would have given a hundred silver stags to have been a roach in the rushes when he learned that Lord Beric was off to behead his brother.”

“Even a blind man could see the Hound loathed his brother.”

“Ah, but Gregor was his to loathe, not yours to kill. Once Dondarrion lops the summit off our Mountain, the Clegane lands and incomes will pass to Sandor, but I wouldn’t hold my water waiting for his thanks, not that one… “ – Eddard XII AGOT

Granted Littlefinger is framing this information in a certain light to pique Ned’s paranoia as he’s been doing throughout their interactions. Ned just tipped his hand as to who he’s worried about and Littlefinger ran with it, making it seem like Ned just crossed Sandor personally. Early on, Sandor is still invested in the idea that killing his brother is the only way to end the pain of his trauma. Not that I think that he genuinely wants to be a kinslayer, but keeping the revenge fantasy alive is a coping mechanism that Sandor doesn’t want to be taken from him. I have no doubt that Sandor did go to Cersei immediately to discuss the situation, but there’s a lot more going on here. This is going to be a long recap and a good deal of rambling. You have been forewarned.

At the inn at the crossroads, Catelyn arrests Tyrion as a person of interest in the assassination attempt on Bran based on Littlefinger’s claim of who won the Valyrian steel dagger. She takes Tyrion to Lysa in the Eyrie, holding him prisoner. Word of Tyrion’s arrest reaches King’s Landing via Yoren. In retaliation, Jaime Lannister and his men attack Ned Stark in the streets, leaving Ned with a badly broken leg. Ned is unconscious with a fever for “six days and seven nights.” When he awakens, he tries to speak to Robert about the conflict with the Lannisters, but Robert will not hear of it. The situation is escalating with both Riverrun and Casterly Rock calling their banners in anticipation for war. Robert decides he’d rather go hunting than deal with this mess, tells Ned they should just simply stop fighting and leaves the next day. Thanks, Robert.

Ned is back to holding court as Hand and dealing with official business. Marq Piper and Karyl Vance, Hoster Tully’s bannermen, show up to accuse the Lannisters of sending Gregor Clegane to attack villages in the Riverlands under the guise of common brigands. They brought with them the few remaining survivors of the attacks to testify that despite the lack of sigils or banners, these brigands were definitely outfitted like proper knights. They had war horses, good weapons and armor, and their inhumanly large leader couldn’t be anyone else other than the Mountain. Ned believes them and suspects what Tywin may be trying to accomplish: “should Riverrun strike back [openly attacking Tywin’s soldiers or bannermen], Cersei and her father would insist that it had been the Tullys who broke the king’s peace, not the Lannisters. The gods only knew what Robert would believe.” The ruse gives Tywin plausible deniability of being responsible, but it is flimsy enough so the Riverlanders to take the bait. There’s no guarantee that Robert, the weak king that he is, wouldn’t cave under pressure to side with his in-laws. We also learn later that Tywin was counting on Ned leading his forces personally to come to the aid of his wife’s family. Away from King’s Landing, Ned could be killed, captured, or traded for Tyrion. Either way, the Starks would be removed from power; however, Ned’s leg was broken during the street fight with Jaime, who knew nothing of his father’s plan.

So Ned sends Beric Dondarrion to bring down Ser Gregor for his crimes against the villagers in the name of the king’s justice, thwarting Tywin’s provocation of Riverrun to retaliate. By putting Robert’s stamp of approval on Gregor’s death sentence, he’s also gambling that this will position the king to side against his in-laws later. You know, when he finally gets Robert to have that big talk about his wife and kids. Sigh.

“Lord Tywin is greatly wroth about the men you sent after Ser Gregor Clegane,” the maester confided. “I feared he would be. You will recall, I said as much in council.”

“Let him be wroth,” Ned said. Every time his leg throbbed, he remembered Jaime Lannister’s smile, and Jory dead in his arms. “Let him write all the letters to the queen he likes. Lord Beric rides beneath the king’s own banner. If Lord Tywin attempts to interfere with the king’s justice, he will have Robert to answer to. The only thing His Grace enjoys more than hunting is making war on lords who defy him.” – Eddard XII, AGOT.

Ned sends Ser Robar Royce to Robert’s hunting party to inform the king (and Yohn Royce) of Dondarrion’s posse and Gregor’s attainment/death sentence. Fast forward to Robert on his deathbed, where he voices his displeasure with Ned putting him in a difficult spot with his wife’s family.

“Ah, fuck you, Ned,” the king said hoarsely. “I killed the [boar], didn’t I?” A lock of matted black hair fell across his eyes as he glared up at Ned. “Ought to do the same for you. Can’t leave a man to hunt in peace. Ser Robar found me. Gregor’s head. Ugly thought. Never told the Hound. Let Cersei surprise him.” His laugh turned into a grunt as a spasm of pain hit him. – Eddard XIII, AGOT.

Robert admits to Ned that he never told Sandor himself. Surprise, Robert dodged an uncomfortable conversation and intended on leaving that task to Cersei so he could get back to having a good time. Because Sandor returned with Joffrey and the Royces, he most definitely heard the news through them. Why does this detail matter? Well, if you were Sandor, wouldn’t you be irked that the king didn’t have the basic courtesy (or balls) to tell you himself? The natural progression of that conversation would be discussing what that means for Sandor’s future, the inheritance of Clegane lands, and his standing with the Lannisters during this conflict. But Robert doesn’t want to touch that topic with a ten-foot pole. What I’m saying is, at that moment, he’s probably more pissed at Robert than anyone else. Following that would be Ned’s decision interfering with one of his primary coping mechanisms. So Sandor marches off straight to Cersei where he was probably told of Gregor’s purpose in the Riverlands and assured that Ned’s order would come to nothing. Indeed, Gregor was ready for Donddarion, ambushing his party from all sides at Mummer’s Ford, soundly defeating them. Meanwhile, Cersei was already making moves to remove both Ned and Robert. But how did Sandor feel about all this?

The grey light of dawn was streaming through his window when the thunder of hoofbeats awoke Eddard Stark from his brief, exhausted sleep. He lifted his head from the table to look down into the yard. Below, men in mail and leather and crimson cloaks were making the morning ring to the sound of swords, and riding down mock warriors stuffed with straw. Ned watched Sandor Clegane gallop across the hard-packed ground to drive an iron-tipped lance through a dummy’s head. Canvas ripped and straw exploded as Lannister guardsmen joked and cursed.

Is this brave show for my benefit, he wondered. If so, Cersei was a greater fool than he’d imagined. Damn her, he thought, why is the woman not fled? I have given her chance after chance … – Eddard XIV AGOT

He’s right there under Ned’s window, mocking and intimidating him. If there was any tiny glimmer in Sandor that maybe Gregor would be finally held accountable for any of his crimes, it was almost immediately overshadowed by his cynicism and confirmation bias. Knowing that Ned’s goose is cooked, Sandor would think Ned a great, naive fool for not understanding how the world really works and how outmatched he is. His worldview is validated yet again by the cunning of his masters. The only thing he can do is attempt to cure Sansa of the same infirmity before its too late for her.

Just before the Blackwater battle, Sandor brings up her father and tries to put some dents in his image to argue his points. For a little context, Sandor was alone on the roof of the Red Keep until Sansa showed up. We can infer with his anxieties about the wildfire that Sandor was up there contemplating his own mortality, which is why he goes so particularly hard in needling Sansa. It seems as if Sandor must have been in the middle of some pretty intense brooding. If he dies in the battle by fire no less, it is in the thankless service of awful people, and Gregor still goes on living and unpunished. If this is how it all ends, well, it’s pretty depressing and of course, as he should have always expected. And here Sansa is still insisting on her idealistic worldview. He goes for a low blow. In that process, he reveals his anger and trust issues with fathers.

She hated the way he talked, always so harsh and angry. “Does it give you joy to scare people?”

“No, it gives me joy to kill people.” His mouth twitched. “Wrinkle up your face all you like, but spare me this false piety. You were a high lord’s get. Don’t tell me Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell never killed a man.”

“That was his duty. He never liked it.”

“Is that what he told you?” Clegane laughed again. “Your father lied. Killing is the sweetest thing there is.” He drew his longsword. “Here’s your truth. Your precious father found that out on Baelor’s steps. Lord of Winterfell, Hand of the King, Warden of the North, the mighty Eddard Stark, of a line eight thousand years old … but Ilyn Payne’s blade went through his neck all the same, didn’t it? Do you remember the dance he did when his head came off his shoulders?” – Sansa IV, ACOK.

Of course, Ned must be a liar because his father was. He’s got to be no different than Tywin, the high lord he knows best. All fathers and killers are the same. This is the truth as he sees it: those on top, who hold near-godlike power of life and death over their subjects, secretly enjoy exercising that power behind a virtuous countenance. Does Sandor honestly believe this about Ned, or is he trying really hard to convince himself of that? Because for a flickering moment there, it almost sounds like a part of Sandor thinks of Ned in a grand, larger-than-life image before he pauses in thought…

And since he’s the one who brought up Ned and his execution, he also can’t deny that he witnessed a man condemning himself as a traitor in exchange for the safety of the daughter the Lannisters held hostage. He did the very thing his own father would not do: endure the public shame and stigma for love of his child. That is proof that Ned’s honor wasn’t just about his public image, which surely didn’t go unnoticed by someone sensitive to such things, whether he was ready to accept that or not. That Ned wasn’t just merely outmatched by more cunning players, he was the victim of treachery and deceit, failed by a negligent king uninterested in dealing with corruption. While he still does think Ned a fool, there’s a sense that Sandor has adjusted to thinking of him as a decent, honorable, and tragic sort of fool, much like his daughter. What good did that integrity do him? None. The monsters won. Illyn Payne still took his head off while he and his daughter watched. Did you catch how the detail of Ned’s twitching limbs was burned into Sandor’s memory, the same one that plagued Sansa’s nightmares? Yeah, it affected him too. So I do think Sandor is trying to convince himself that Ned was actually a phony and a shitty person because Sandor doesn’t want to empathize with anyone and yet finds himself doing so anyway. Like with Sansa, caring* means having confused and conflicted feelings that force him to re-examine his own life. Add to the fact that Sandor is also the child of a murdered father. I could see a young Sandor having very complicated feelings about mourning his own massive disappointment of a father if he allowed himself to mourn him at all. I don’t see how those memories could not be dredged up.

* I’m still debating whether or not “caring” is too strong a word in regards to Ned. Let’s just say that upon later reflection, I think certain things about Ned’s life and death resonated with Sandor.

It’s a very small, but not unremarkable shift considering how much of a jaded idealist cynic Sandor is. Death probably also has a way of memorializing Ned in a similar way to how separation causes Sandor to reframe Sansa’s courteousness as something he highly esteems; however, Sandor just can’t say that he was wrong these things openly, so you have to read between the lines. Later while telling Arya of his intention to return her to Catelyn and Robb, Sandor says he’s willing to wager that Robb won’t kill him:

If he doesn’t take me, he’d be wise to kill me, but he won’t. Too much his father’s son, from what I hear. – Arya IX, ASOS.

What Sandor is hoping for first and foremost is for Robb to take him into his service, right after stating that he’s done with loathsome and unappreciative masters. In an indirect way, it is an admission that Ned, Sansa, and the other Starks are not just different, but better. Still foolish because it would be “wiser” to kill someone like him, but definitely better. Sandor assumes Robb will be pointing his army toward King’s Landing to free Sansa, so he believes his Lannister intel will make him a valuable asset. “Maybe I’ll even kill Gregor for him, he’d like that.“ What’s also interesting is that he fantasizes about changing Robb’s negative opinion and winning his favor by taking down Gregor for him (in the name of the king’s justice), essentially fulfilling the duty Ned charged Dondarrion with. While he may think he’s got one over on Robb and his long-awaited revenge will be the cherry on top, his wording points to a subconscious desire to please and serve Ned through his stand-in eldest son. That he wants a chance to earn positive recognition from a worthy king, someone who Sansa also loves and admires. The thought eases the pain of his failures and screw-ups regarding her during the Blackwater. Except this goes up in smoke with the Red Wedding.

I don’t know if in the future Sandor will ever have any lines where he openly and positively speaks of Ned, but that would be something I would love to see. Since I am sure he and Sansa are bound to reunite, it would probably come up then. Or Ned’s presence could be quietly felt in the continuation of Sandor’s arc through his choices and actions. Or it could be both. We just have to wait until Winds to find out.

#valyrian scrolls #sandor clegane meta #sandor clegane #ned stark #sansa stark #sansan meta #robb stark #gregor clegane #beric dondarrion #asoiaf meta #my meta #character arcs #calamitylamb #sorry for the wait

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