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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

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winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love).

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

1K notes · View notes

smiting-finger · 4 years

Text

Bin AU Headcanons

Part II of the (〃ω〃) 500 followers! unwritten-headcanon amnesty (some given in response to AO3 comment questions, and others given unsolicited, lol), this time for Out of the Bin and Into Your Heart and from me to you, my heart to yours

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian

Pre-Wei Wuxian’s first arrest, Lan Wangji was quietly volunteering as general legal aid (helping old migrants with their internet/other service contracts, helping women with their domestic violence paperwork), and then Wei Wuxian gets arrested at a protest and Lan Wangji is not there and he doesn’t know this area of law so he signs up to get involved with Activist Legal Support the next day.

Relatedly: Lan Wangji’s approach to helping Wei Wuxian has always been to turn up, do what needs to be done for Wei Wuxian to achieve his goals and then silently leave again. So when the two goobers eventually move in together (and are finally fully in each other’s space, and fully across each other’s movements), Wei Wuxian goes through a period of constant realisations like “Oh, Lan Zhan, you’re the one who’s been doing this? This as well?! THAT, TOO???”

Pre-fake dating, Lan Wangji knows that Wei Wuxian won’t keep any gifts given by secret admirers, but will shamelessly accept anything that Lan Wangji gives him outright as a friend (”friend”). He derives a petty satisfaction from that, and so has responded more than once to a gift-incident by giving Wei Wuxian a corresponding gift of his own:

So if he heard about the gift socks, he’d go out and get Wei Wuxian a pair of novelty There’s No Planet B! socks, which Wei Wuxian would naturally wear both immediately and proudly with his shortest pair of 4/5ths pants. (And Lan Wangji would stand next to him and somehow radiate smugness without making any change to his expression.)

Needless to say, Wei Wuxian has received a lot of Lan Wangji chocolate (chilli, fairtrade), lunches (homemade, nutritious) and other small items.

Wei Wuxian never even considers the possibility of not putting all his fake-dating eggs into the Lan Zhan basket. And also never stops to think about why that iss.

In re kungfu practice: when sparring against normal people, Lan Wangji does annoyed-leg-sweeps because of “I’ll bring you down every peg to the floor” reasons he’s too well-bred to voice.

Past recipients of this treatment have included:

Wen Chao,

Xue Yang at his most obnoxious

Jin Zixuan when gossip about his comments in re Jiang Yanli not being pretty or successful enough to date him (”I can’t believe my mum set me up with someone so mediocre”) is at its height.

This is pre-Wei Wuxian onstage-punch. That comes during the second round of gossip.

With Wei Wuxian (and only Wei Wuxian), however, it’s always leg sweeps and pinning, which is because of ... “irritation”.

The Phoenix Mountain Reserve photo has been Lan Wangji’s favourite shot of Wei Wuxian since it was made publicly available, but he couldn’t use it as a wallpaper for obvious reasons.

Then he agrees to the fake-dating, sees how far Wei Wuxian was going to take it and realised: chansu!

At some point during the fake-dating, Wei Wuxian escalates from the phone entry of Oppa to calling Lan Wangji “Oppa~!” in real life, and then from there to a full “Oppa! Saranghaeyo~!” with the arms-on-head love heart.

After n iterations of this, Lan Zhan responds with a mirror arms-on-head love heart and a deadpan “Saranghaeyo.” with his face still like (• _ •) and it’s an instant, supereffective K.O. for Wei Wuxian.

Every so often, when another one of his romantic overtures has soared right over Wei Wuxian’s head, Lan Wangji considers Jin Zixuan’s over-the-top demonstrations of affection and thinks (bleakly) “...Jin Zixuan got a singing telegram. Must I also resort to a singing telegram? ; _ ; “

In re: the concert hip-hop number, shirtlessness is the goal all along:

A-Qing (who is also a troublemaker on Lan Qiren’s radar - as soon as he receives the form that says that she and Wei Wuxian will be working together, his spidey senses start tingling) has been constantly referencing it throughout all their practices like:

“Well, because you’ll be shirtless, you’ll have to make sure to-”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, totally do that, but remember that you’ll be shirtless too, so-”

Even Song Zichen and Xue Yang know about it and have been visibly bracing themselves for the dress (or undress, lul) rehearsal

Wei Wuxian has missed all of this because of his amazing tunnel vision.

Speaking of Song Zichen and Xue Yang, while they’re having their Moments:

Xiao Xingchen is swanning around like “But do you think the performance had artistic integrity? A-Qing, I’m a little worried that the choreography didn’t do full justice to the abilities of all our members! I hope they don’t think I’m hogging the limelight!”, taunting them with his half-nakedness while he earnestly tries to make sure that all the other dancers are comfortable and happy with the final arrangement

A-Qing fully notices the heart-eye beams shooting over from the wings (and fully notices the same heart-eye beams shooting over during various practices), briefly thinks about saying something to put the two losers out of their misery (because Xiao Xingchen is not the special level of oblivious that Wei Wuxian is), but then thinks ... nah.

During practice back-painting, Wei Wuxian is so focused on Not Looking that his mistimes his ~sexy stretch~ and gets it in precisely when Lan Wangji has turned his back to get the towel, so it really is all for nothing, RIP.

In the reprise back-painting session (and there definitely is one, what with Lan Wangji’s love for marking and the fact that Chinese calligraphers usually sign their name on their work), the levels of both shamelessness and trolling shoot through the roof on both sides:

Wei Wuxian suddenly feels the need to do a lot more whimpering and moaning, and his flinches of “surprise” and wriggling to “get comfortable” suddenly happen a lot more in the hip area than they did before.

Lan Wangji does a lot more touching of the skin he’s about to paint to “warn” Wei Wuxian that the brush is coming (do warnings have to be quite so ... lingering? Only Lan Wangji knows), discovers a sudden need for wrist-pinning to “hold Wei Wuxian still while he works” and his blowing on ink to get it dry suddenly gets a lot more ... sensual ...

Lan Wangji is the teacher that all his babies are always proposing to. They lOvE him with every inch of their tiny baby hearts, and after they get together, Wei Wuxian watches on with a knowing nod, like “My fam, I getcha. Gege will support you in expressing your feelings and we can ALL win!”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know it, but he has a group of grannies and grandpas wringing their hands over his happiness, too: It’s all well and good that he’s seeing the Lan boy now, but when are they gonna get married, huh? HUH?! WHAT’S THE POINT OF SAVING THE PLANET IF YOU’RE NOT GONNA FILL IT WITH BABIES, WEI WUXIAN???

So once they officially start dating, Wei Wuxian steps into the Cultural Centre like “Ah, our fresh new romance! Even after all this time of fake-dating, I’d better give people some transition time to get used to this new state of affairs!”

And in the background, 73 aunties and grannies are thinking “Look how behind schedule you are, Wei Wuxian!” (because it’s definitely his fault, and not Lan Wangji’s). “Where are the babies? WHERE ARE THE BABIES??”

The wedding advice Wei Wuxian got from the grannies during Mianmian’s wedding prep is liberally flavoured with real life anecdotes like:

“Don’t be like XX’s son. He made the mistake of trying to skimp on the dowry - so disrespectful to people who’ve poured so much love and energy into raising a daughter - and it poisoned the entire relationship.”

“That venue is no good - YY’s daughter had her reception there, and we all had diarrhoea after eating the prawns.”

(And Wei Wuxian is like: “How can you retain all of this bullshit detail about every wedding the Cultural Society has ever witnessed, but still not know how to say the phrase ‘Excuse me, what time is the bus coming’ in English?!”)

Mianmian definitely also gets strong-armed by her excited mother into some glorious(ly terrible) Chinese-style studio wedding photos (with industrial-strength airbrushing and wedding costume changes that span many cultures and many Chinese time periods).

Mianmian swears to never let Wei Wuxian get his grubby hands on that album, on pain of death.

But then her parents host something, and Wei Wuxian goes, and right there, hanging in their living room, is a floor-to-ceiling calendar, featuring Mianmian and Mian-man dressed as Chinese emperor and empress (because Mianmian certainly didn’t want it in her house, but it came with the package.)

Wei Wuxian makes a noise that Mianmian previously thought only dolphins could produce, and proceeds to take SO MANY photos with his phone.

At some point after Mianmian’s wedding, Lan Wangji comes out of the shower to find:

1 pair of pyjama bottoms waiting for him on the bed; and

Wei Wuxian in the corresponding top (which doesn’t cover his butt after all, but whatever, he’s committed), shooting him a double-thumbs up and wearing an expression like 8D!

(And Lan Wangji decides it’s not worth fighting and just goes with it.)

Lan Qiren

Lan Qiren is totally the kind of parent who never boasts about his children directly, but will listen politely to you telling him about how your son scored 86 in his maths examination, and wait for you to obligation-ask about his kids before casually saying, “Oh, Wangji? He scored full marks” and smiling thinly.

He’ll add “Sounds like your son worked really hard” for extra fuck you value if you were being particularly obnoxious.

The greatest tragedy in his parenting life is realising that if your children are The Best, it’s only possible for them to marry down.

His initial feelings regarding Wei Wuxian dating his nephew can probably be summed up as: “Wei Wuxian, I did not lovingly raise my precious Lan Wangji just to give him to you!!!”

(The problem is that his nephew (inexplicably) likes Wei Wuxian so much, mumblegrumble.)

For weeks after The Resentment of Lan Qiren, every time Lan Qiren sees Wen Ning, he shakes his head sadly to himself and mutters “What a shame, what a shame.”

When Wen Ning responds with a slightly panicked “?!”, Lan Qiren just pats him on the shoulder, like, “No, no, it’s not you. We can’t choose our relatives. And isn’t that the greatest shame in the world?” - and then DOESN’T EXPLAIN ANYTHING.

And after many bouts of thinking and rethinking still lead him to the conclusion that Wei Wuxian is the best choice in comparison to all the other available options, Lan Qiren may or may not visit Cangse Sanren’s grave to burn some incense for an excuse to stand there and offer a sullen, “You fukken got me again, you bastard. I can’t believe you.”

He doesn’t know who he hates more:

Wei Wuxian for being himself and yet still the best choice

Cangse Sanren for not letting being dead stop her from continuing to be a thorn in Lan Qiren’s side

Wen Ruohan for being undesirable enough to disqualify the only valid competitor

The other parents for failing to produce children who are better than Wei Wuxian

(Like: Surely it can’t be that hard if he (+ his brother + his sister-in law) managed to produce two)

So he settles for hating everyone.

For his next birthday, Lan Xichen sends him a box of blood-pressure-lowering supplements.

Lan Qiren is like “!!!” but he still takes them because just because his nephew is being impudent does not mean there is not also a Need.

In re 3zun:

Lan Qiren goes around determinedly Not Thinking about Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao. Every time his eyes approach something he doesn’t want to see, he just turns his head like NOPE.

He eventually realises that he and Wei Wuxian have this in common and that Wei Wuxian is therefore his most valuable ally - both in terms of having someone to pivot to and have very loud, very enthusiastic conversations about anything else whenever the 3zun do something they don’t want to see, and also having someone to commiserate with about Not Wanting to Know. (But because they’re them, they alternate between teaming up for self-preservation and using their mutual weakness to take petty jabs at each other.)

"-If two of them are dating, then where does that leave the third one?!"

"RIGHT? Imagine finding out that they were silently pining away, forced to third-wheel for their unrequited love and best friend - unrequited LOVES AND BEST FRIENDS? What would you say to that?!"

"That's not even considering which one the third wheel would be - I honestly don't know which option would be the worst, they're all terrible."

"I'm almost ready to say that I'd rather they all be dating each other, except then I'd have to think about how that would work, dynamic-wise, like - who calls the shots? Do you think Nie Mingjue is domineering all the time, or do you think it’s a public front, and he then goes home to be dominated by-"

“STOP.”

Even before 3zun get together (both Lan Qiren and Wei Wuxian have chosen to Never Know when this is), Jin Guangyao is throwing out suggestive comments left and right and then immediately whipping out his (◔◡◔✿) face for anyone’s double-take:

50% to test the waters of public sentiment before he makes a move and it actually becomes his problem

50% because he’s a troll who likes dominance displays

Knowing this factoid, one of Wei Wuxian’s mental 3zun Dynamics possibilities features Superdom!Jin Guangyao, but he does his best to avoid thinking about that.

After Lan Qiren mentally accepts Wei Wuxian into the fold:

He still internally responds to at least 50% of the things that Wei Wuxian does with “Why, that little shit”, but it’s also implied that Wei Wuxian is their little shit now.

And for Lan Family! Qiren, this means: If you shit on him, WE shit on you.

“Shufu”

Lan Qiren definitely Notices when Wei Wuxian calls him that, but it Doesn’t Do to make a fuss.

He probably has a conversation with Lan Xichen sometime around the first family dinner that goes:

LQR: You've noticed that he's still calling me 'Uncle Qiren' like we're nothing to each other.

LXC: ...If you want him to call you Shufu, should you perhaps not mention that to him?

LQR: What? No, he should already know these things!

And then after the wedding:

LQR: Your brother's boyfriend is finally acting like one of the family. LXC: Haha, oh my.

Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan

Although their mothers have been friends for ages, Jin Zixuan grows up in a different city, so they don't see each other growing up. The Jins later move for Jin Zixuan's high-flying corporate job, Madam Jin joins the Culture Society at her friend's behest and immediately falls in love with Jiang Yanli as a daughter-in-law.

After a lot of cajoling (in both directions), she gets them to agree to one date, which is a disaster (I have more headcanons about this but they won't fit in here)

Jin Zixuan has a lot of money and zero sense of proportion, which does not generally result in tasteful things. (Where Jiang Yanli is concerned, his desire to keep up a "cool" image is completely overpowered by his desire to please, so that doesn't help either. Like a golden retriever who wants people to think he's a cat.)

After they get married, Wei Wuxian sometimes thinks about the peacock's peacocking rituals, like: "It's good that he's gotten more reasonable now that they're married - no, wait, what if he hasn't gotten more reasonable, but there's just no one around to see it because they're married?!" and never gets brave enough to ask his sister about it.

After Jin Ling's birth, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng (and maybe even Jin Zixuan) get locked in an ongoing battle for Jin Ling's affections. Jiang Yanli is the clear favourite, as she should be, but they all want to be #2, and their constant jostling is how he ends up with no chill despite being raised by one calm mum and one aloof (but secretly disaster) dad

But because Jiang Yanli is around, he's very polite about it: the kind of kid who barrels in screaming blue murder, skids to a halt and says "Auntie", and then tears out screaming blue murder again

Wei Wuxian tones it down a lot after he and Lan Wangji adopt A-Yuan because he’s got better things to do, but it’s still A Thing (during visits, A-Yuan spends a lot of time in Auntie Yanli’s lap being gently fed things while his dad and shushu yell at each other over the top of his cousin’s head)

Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli

Initially brought together by their brothers, they now meet up for regular, peaceful, wholesome tea-dates where they discuss the lives of their mutuals and gently exchange advice (and strategies on how to keep their angry-angry parent/proxy-parent's blood pressure down.

Whereas Jiang Cheng gets closer to coughing up blood with every year that passes by without Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji getting their shit together, Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli take the more optimistic view of "Look at how well-prepared we are, we've just run another year ahead of schedule!"

Dinner Crew

Jiang Cheng has been the unwilling audience to years of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s bullshit.

If asked, he would say: “And you wonder why I’m so angry?! What do you mean ‘dating’, you’ve been fucking married for the last five years!” but no one ever does :’D

Every so often, he thinks about how happy their sister is about the dating situation because she doesn’t know that it’s fake, and he grinds his teeth because why can’t he also not-know!?

To this, Nie Huaisang says, “If we didn’t know we couldn’t help!”

And Jiang Cheng replies, “WE’RE NOT HELPING ANYWAY, LOOK AT HIM!!!”

Meanwhile, Jiang Yanli continues to gush about how happy she is for Wei Wuxian and all Jiang Cheng can do is laugh really unnaturally because he has to “Be strong, Jiang Cheng! Be strong for A-jie! ╥﹏╥”

He goes to read the comments on the Society Facebook after the fujoshi conversation, and gets so angry at all these people who are like “Ah, their love is so beautiful!” that he has to uninstall his Facebook app, and go and shout into a cupboard somewhere.

The non-Wei-Wuxian members of the dinner group have set up a separate chat to act as a support group, where they all go to:

Wail and gnash their teeth after Wei Wuxian does something particularly dumb

Scheme ways into getting Wei Wuxian to get a clue

Console one another when someone’s brave attempt at getting Wei Wuxian to face the truth fails miserably (because while they play by the rules of ‘what a normal human would do’, Wei Wuxian lives by the principle of ‘lol norms are for losers’.)

Relatedly: for every resigned Nie Huaisang face or enraged Jiang Cheng face that Wei Wuxian notices, there are at least three desperate-yet-silent exchanges that he doesn’t.

Wen Ning is always really optimistic about it, nodding encouragingly like “He’s gonna get it - he’s gonna get it! - oh no, he’s not gonna get it. Oh. Oh no. Ó╭╮Ò”

Wen Ning always has at least one small child hanging off him at all times when he’s at the Cultural Centre because they know he can always be bullied into playing with them and they think he’s great.

Past bullshit dinner group projects have included Getting Jiang Cheng a Date and Making a Picture out of Jin Guangyao’s Forehead Dot While He’s Sleeping

(In re the forehead dot, they end up settling for making it bigger every time he nods off during a movie night at Nie Huaisang’s house, and Nie Mingjue comes home to what’s basically a Japanese flag on Jin Guangyao’s forehead and is like ಠ_ಠ)

Future dinner group projects include providing Wei Wuxian with support for Grand Plans like Getting Along with Uncle Qiren and providing Jiang Cheng with unwanted support for things like Workshopping Jiang Cheng’s List of Partner Requirements

A-Yuan

After A-Yuan’s adoption, Wei Wuxian and Lan Qiren redouble their efforts in Can we divorce an in-law?! because although they couldn’t save themselves from being related to Jin Guangyao, for their PRECIOUS BOY--

Therefore, when A-Yuan is five or six and starts to sound out how he’s related to people and why:

A-Yuan: So if Jin-yeye is Uncle Guangyao’s dad, then that makes him my-

Wei Wuxian: NOTHING!

Lan Qiren (springing up from the other side of the room): NOTHING!

Lan Xichen: lol

At around about this same time, Wei Wuxian, who is never gonna stop trolling Lan Qiren about ruzhui until the day he dies, runs A-Yuan through the “You see, my son, my family is not so well-to-do, and since your Uncle married into the Nie family-” talk, and then proceeds to reference it at every opportunity:

1: Despite A-Yuan almost certainly not asking, and

2: despite (/especially because of) Lan Qiren shouting “DON’T TEACH HIM WEIRD THINGS!” in the background.

(Lan Wangji probably lets it happen or encourages it because he thinks it’s funny)

#CQL #The Untamed #Wangxian #陈情令 #魔道祖师 #mo dao zu shi #not-fic

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amylillian22 · 4 years

Text

What If I Never Get Over You - Part 2 - Chris Evans Imagine

Summary: Chris finds the invitation to Y/N and Cody’s wedding and he needs to see her before the wedding as he’s ready to show her why he broke up with her unexpectedly years ago.

Word Count: 2,280

Warnings: Mentions of cheating

Author's Note: If your name is Abby or Kayla, I'm sorry. I just randomly picked two names off the top of my head for two other characters in this chapter.

[Part 1] /// [Part 3]

"Do you want anything? I'm going to the kitchen," Chris asked Scott. Scott shook his head, not taking off his eyes from the screen as the Saints we're currently beating the Patriots.

Chris quickly made a beeline to the fridge to get another beer. He grabbed a can and closed the door. He froze once he saw a wedding invitation hung on the fridge. He pulled off the magnet and got a closer look at the invitation.

Join us for the wedding of Y/N Y/L/N and Cody Christian

Chris heart dropped to his stomach as he read those words in black cursive. The beer can slipped out of Chris hand, causing it to explode once it hit the tiled floor. Scott heard the commotion and rushed to his kitchen.

"Shit," he whispered under his breath as he realized the invitation in Chris' hand. He completely forgot to hide it from his older brother before he came over.

Chris looked up at his younger brother, the invitation still in his hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know why."

"She can't-" he dropped the invitation on the kitchen counter and ran his hands through his hair. "She doesn't know the truth. She can't marry him until she knows. She deserves the truth, Scott."

"Yeah, she does. I love you, bro, but you did everything wrong with Y/N. She deserved the truth before you broke up with her without an explanation. I'm always going to support you and be there whenever you need me, but when it comes to her... I'm on her side."

"Fuck," Chris groaned as he fished out his car keys from his jean pockets. The game had just started and he only had one beer so far. He was nowhere near buzzed and was perfectly fine to drive. He's not one to walk away from a Patriots game, but he had to see Y/N.

"I gotta go to her," he walked around the spilled beer.

"Oh, don't worry! I'll clean up the mess you made!" Scott yelled out scarastically.

"Thanks!" Chris yelled back before slamming the front door.

***

Chris walked up to a small house, one he remembered fondly and had so many memories in. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He heard Y/N say 'I'm coming!'. His heart was pounding against his chest not knowing what would happen when she would see him.

She opened the door, her smile completely vanishing as she saw Chris standing at her front door with his hands in his jean pockets. She hadn't seen him since he showed up to her live show in Boston. Before then, she hadn't seen or heard from him since he dumped her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I need you to come with me," he answered nervously. He wasn't sure if she would go anywhere with him. Maybe years ago, she would have without any hesitation; but, it's been 6 years.

"Give me one good reason why I should go anywhere with you," she crossed her arms to her chest.

"If you come with me, I promise you'll get the answers to everything that happened 6 years ago."

She stared at him. The look in his eyes were serious, but also pleading. She wanted nothing to do with him anymore. She wasn't in love him anymore. She had moved on. She was getting married in a week.

Yet.... a bigger part in her heart was telling her to go. She deserved to know the truth and finally get the closure she needed to end her chapter with him for good.

She closed the door on him. Chris let out a deep sigh, feeling defeated. He had hope. He believed she would go with him.

He turned on his heel, about to head back to his car when the door opened again. Y/N had her purse in her hand while she locked her front door with the other. She turned around to see him surprised, his lips forming a small smile.

"Hurry up before I change my mind," she said, walking pass him and towards his car.

The entire ride neither one of them said a word. Chris had his eyes focused on the road in front of him, occasionally seeing Y/N from the corner of his eye. The further he drove, the more nervous he got. Although they hadn't talked in years, it wasn't like her to not talk to him.

Y/N looked throughout the passenger's side window, never once bothering to take a peek at Chris. She was too afraid to look at him for many reasons, but she only got in the car with him for one reason: To get some answers.

They were already out of Boston and entering Cambridge. Y/N had no idea where he was taking her. Just when she was about to ask, Chris pulled up to the gate of a gated community. He pushed in a code causing the gates to open a few seconds afterwards.

"You moved?" She asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Not exactly," he said as he continued to drive. He past a couple of streets before turning down a cobblestone street. He drove a mile in before he parked in front of the small park.

The park was empty. There were no kids or adults around, which Chris was thankful for. Although he trusted the small community that lived in this gated area, he still didn't want people to witness what was about to happen.

Without saying a word, Chris turned off the car and left the keys in the ignition. He got out of the car and made his way to the swing set. Without being told, Y/N followed him and sat on the swing next to him. She looked at her feet before slowly swaying herself on the swing.

"Why are we here?" She asked. "I don't exactly know how a playground in a gated community you don't live in gives me answers I deserved years ago."

Chris let out a sigh. "I should have told you the truth. I didn't because the truth hurt me knowing you would hate me forever. The truth would have broken us... but it might have even broken you more."

Y/N stopped swinging as she heard the seriousness in his tone. Yet, he also sounded scared and somewhat sad. She didn't understand it. None of it.

"I still don't get it..." she trailed.

"Just give me a minute or two," he said as he looked down at his watch. The explanation to his break up would be arriving soon.

Y/N's mind ran with a million ideas as she stared at him. Her brain was on overdrive with the cryptic message Chris gave her. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Chris stood up as he finally saw her running towards him. His lips formed a huge smile at the sight of a beautiful six year old girl with his piercing blue eyes.

"Daddy!" She squealed as she ran up to him. Chris immediately caught her when she lunged at him. "Mommy said I get to go home with you early today! I'm so excited to spend the whole week with you!"

Chris hugged her tight and saw her mom, Abby, over her shoulder. On the drive to pick up Y/N, he not only asked if he could pick up his daughter early today, but also kindly ask her not to come to him as he was finally really to tell Y/N the truth. Obviously, Abby knew the truth. She knew Chris was dating Y/N at the time. Back then, she didn't care. Now that she's older and a mother, and although sleeping with Chris gave her the greatest blessing in life, she wish she hadn't slept with someone who was with someone else. It wasn't exactly a good example for her daughter.

"We'll call you tonight," Chris waved at Abby.

"Bye mommy!" The little girl yelled as she saw her mom walking back towards their house. She turned around to see a woman she had never seen before. "Who's this daddy?"

Chris squeezed her shoulders, "this is Y/N."

"Why is she frozen?" She asked confused as Y/N had been standing there the whole time with wide eyes and her jaw dropped.

"Y/N..." Chris gentle grabbed her elbow, causing her to snap out of her shock.

"You have a daughter..."

"He sure does!" The little girl giggled. "And I just turned 6 years old!"

"6?" Y/N paused for a second as she finally figured out the math. Chris had broken up with her 6 years ago. She was the reason Chris broke up with her. He had an affair and got someone else pregnant.

"Six?!" She asked angrily, causing the little girl stood behind her dad and wrapped her small arms around his leg.

"Yes, Y/N. Meet my daughter, Kayla," he lifted Kayla up. She had a huge smile on her adorable face, a smile very similar to Chris'.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears forming in her eyes. She looked at the little girl, and gave her a small smile. She wasn't angry at her. She did nothing wrong. If she was to be angry at anyone, it was Chris, and she was furious at him.

"It's nice to meet you, Kayla, but your dad-" she swallowed hard, not realizing it would be hard to call him that until now, "needs to get me home."

She headed towards his car. Kayla looked at her dad. "I don't think your friend likes me."

Chris sighed. "It's not you. She doesn't like me, baby girl."

"Then, I guess she's not your friend, uh?"

"Honestly, she never was," he said as he grabbed her hand and led her to his car.

***

Kayla talked about her birthday celebration at school with her friends and teacher. Then, talked about the surprise party her mom and stepdad threw on her real birthday. She asked what Chris had planned for her birthday as she was with her mom during her real birthday when he pulled up in front of Y/N's house.

"Hold that thought, baby girl," Chris said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Let me walk Y/N to the door."

"No, that's okay. You shouldn't leave her alone in the car," she said without look at him. She turned back to Kayla. "It was nice meeting you."

Y/N quickly rushed out of the Chris car. She knew he would go after her. After all these years, she still knew him best and he proved her right as she heard his car door close.

"Y/N," he called after her, climbing up the front steps two at a time.

"Don't Chris," she yelled back at the same time the front door opened.

"Babe," Cody said as he saw his fiancé walking up to him with tears in her eyes. He immediately engulfed her in a hug when she crashed into him. Looking over her shoulder, he saw a man he only heard about. The man that broke the love of his life's heart. The man who gave her so many emotions to write songs about that became platinum singles.

He didn't know what happened, but he knew it wasn't good as his fiancé quietly sobbed against his chest. He slammed the door on Chris, hoping once and for all he would be gone and out of her life forever.

"He had an affair," she said between sniffles and pulled back.

Cody noticed there was more to it as she couldn't even look at him. He pushed her hair out of her face, and gently cupped her cheeks before wiping away the fallen tears.

She cleared her throat, pushing the tightness back. "He's a father to a beautiful girl with the woman he cheated on me with."

"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry," he kissed her forehead.

"Please don't ever do that to me..." she whispered. "I can't go through that again."

Cody's hands dropped from her face and took a step back. She saw the sudden change in his face as his eyes narrowed at her. "How many times are you gonna ask me to not do something he did to you?"

"Cody-"

"I'm sick and tired of you always bringing him up. When are you gonna see that I'm not him?! I'm never gonna be like him! I'm never gonna hurt you like he did. I couldn't live with myself if I did because I love you too damn much," he sighed as he ran his hand over his face. "I'm so stupid. It's been six years..." he trailed. Y/N's heart began to thunder against her chest, not knowing where this conversation was going.

"We've been together for 2 years. We're engaged. I thought you wanted forever with me-"

"I do!" She immediately said.

He shook his head. "We can't have a future if you keep bringing your past in our lives. We sure as hell can't have a future if you keep writing songs about him and not me. You need to let it go. Move forward so we can move forward. So, think about what you want and when you decide what that is, give me a call."

Tears fell down her cheeks as she watched Cody grab his coat and walk out of their house. She felt a familiar pain, a pain she hadn't felt since Chris dumped her in the pouring rain. Except, she didn't know exactly what was the cause of her pain. Cody calling calling her out and letting her decide their future, or finding out Chris cheated on her and had a kid?

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #cody christian #cody christian imagines #cody Christian imagine

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tremendoussaladtyrant · 4 years

Text

Party Girl - Chapter 1 - JJ x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, underaged drinking (Basically the same as the actual show).

Synopsis: JJ x reader where reader feels trapped in her upper class world and meets JJ at a party before proceeding to have her life turned on it’s head.

I’m considering making this into a series but we will see what happens. P.S if there are mistakes it is because it is rather long so I probably missed out some things while editing.

The sea was your home, you’d been brought up with it. The waves lapping at the sandy beach shore had been your only constant and therefore it had come as no surprise to anyone who knew you when you said you wanted to become a scuba instructor. The dream had been far fetched and just that, a dream. To anyone from a less controlling world, such a job would seem like something reasonably easy to attain – aside from the cost of all the course’s and gear – because high grades aren’t needed. The people who think that don’t have your parents.

You had been born into a rich family and you weren’t complaining as far as money goes but money can only go so far and materialistic ideals often fail to bring happiness. With the money had come expectations and obligations which controlled your whole family’s lives and with the expectations and obligations came unhappiness. Your youthful dreams had been crushed by the ideals of your parents and sculpted into goals more accommodating to their high standards.

Your life had taken this turn when you were just 14 and you had gotten your first low grade in school. After your teacher called up your parents to inform them about your grade drop – which had been considerable – you had had to have the talk with your parents about your future. “Dive instructors don’t need high grades,” you had said only to have your sessions at the dive school you went to on the weekends ripped away from you; math tutoring filling up your weekends instead. From then on life as you knew it changed for the worst, partying later on became a habit because it was something you could do to help ignore the path your parents had laid out for you. This brings us to the now.

“Okay, what do you think of this?” you say peaking a head through the drapes covering the entrance to your closet, before throwing them away from your body dramatically. “Awe, why is no one looking?” Pouting you place a hand on your hip and stare expectantly at your two girl-friends. Abigale is lying on your bed on her back scrolling through her phone and Marlene is fixing her hair at your dressing table.

“Babes, sorry but this is far more interesting.” Abigail says continuing to scroll through her phone.

Marlene looks up, “It’s cute, but a bit revealing don’t you think?”

“It’s not by fault boys can’t keep it in their pants,” you reply flopping down next to Abigale on your bed and poking at her shoulder. “Time?”

“6.45, be patient. Just five more minutes till we go.” Abigale continues to scroll through her phone.

“Your brother and his friends are taking us, right?” Marlene says, pulling at the pieces of her hair that are too short to fit into her high ponytail.

“Yeah, well he said he would anyway. The hair-spray is in the second draw to the right.”

“Thanks, you’re a life saver.” Marlene proceeds to rummage around in said draw, finally pulling out a large can of hair-spray and getting to work on plastering her baby hairs to her head.

You lay there for a minute, the room silent aside from the music playing from your stereo before there is a rather harsh knock on the door.

“You girls commin’ or do we have to leave without you?” Blake, your brother, yells from the other side of the door.

“We are coming now,” you call back before bouncing up and off the bed and almost skipping around your room to switch off your fan, radio and finally the lights when both Abigale and Marlene have exited. You also remember to grab a jacket from the storage cupboard in the hallway so as not to be drilled into by Blake about your less then decent top.

When you get downstairs, you see both Rafe and Kelce standing near the door. A 6 pack of beer is in Kelce’s right hand and there is another one on the counter.

“Topper not with you tonight?” you question, skipping past both your brother’s friends and out the open door.

“No, he’s spending the night with Sarah,” Rafe says, following you out. Rafe has always had a thing for you and it makes you slightly uncomfortable when he blatantly hits on you. However, due to you always shutting down his advances he usually ends up with some other girl by the end of the evening – more often then not, Abigale.

“I call shotgun,” you yell as you get closer to Blake’s expensive new car.

“No, you don’t, you’re getting in the back.” Blake responds, coming up from behind you and guiding you to the back door. You pout but get in anyway, both your friends following you in. Blake and Kelce get in the front, Rafe not getting in at all and instead going over to his old motor bike. Rafe follows behind on his bike as your brother drives out the drive way. Rafe has been complaining about that bike for a while because his father refused to buy him one of the newer models due to Mr. Cameron not being a fan of motorbikes.

The car journey is short and soon you are near the beach. Blake parks up, Rafe gliding his bike in next to the car.

“You stay out of trouble tonight. I’m not being responsible for anything dumb you do,” your brother says sternly as you get out of the car looking a bit too excited.

“We’ll try keep her out of trouble,” Marlene says, getting out of the car behind you. You scoff slightly because you know that both Marlene and Abigale will be off with random guys at the end of the night. With a warning look from Blake you shut you mouth and turn away from him.

“See you suckers,” you say pulling off your jacket and chucking it into the still open car before running onto the beach. You slow to a walk when the gathering of people comes into sight. You here Blake curse you out in the distance and Rafe laugh but you don’t turn back and keep heading down to the party.

The first thing you go to do when you get down to the group is head to the kegger for a drink. The boy handling the kegger, is blonde and attractive. You can tell from his attire that he isn’t from the wealthier side of the figure eight – not that you expected him to be. His hair is matted with a mixture of sweat and beer.

“A cup, please.” You say as you reach him.

“Got lost on your way back from the golf course, princess?” The rugged boy says, running a hand through his blonde hair.

“Do you really take me as the kind to play golf?”

“Fair,” he says, pulling a cup from the packet and filling it up. Even though he is pouring you a drink he still seems slightly hostile. You get the feeling that he doesn’t want you on this side of the figure 8.

Giving you a now full cup, he begins to speak, “Now beat it, princess. You don’t belong here.” Your mouth involuntarily opens and affronted you turn you nose up at him slightly.

“Last time I checked there wasn’t any rules about where I can and can’t go,” you reply, annoyed. “Your allowed on our side of the island.”

“’Your side’,” he scoffs and you cringe at what you just said. “The only reason we are allowed on ‘your side’ is because we work there.”

You consider apologising but your pride gets in the way. Before you can turn and walk away Rafe comes up beside you.

“Praying on my kind now are you, JJ? Didn’t know you had the guts to try it with one of our girls.” Rafe comments slyly.

“As if I’d ever want to get with her,” he replies, looking you up and down. Now you are even more annoyed then before. Was he suggesting you weren’t good enough for him? Calling you ugly? The judging look he shot at you pointed to both of them.

“Let’s go Rafe, don’t waste your time on him.” You say out of anger and Rafe grins nodding before wrapping his arm around your waste, making you slightly uncomfortable, as you walk away.

“Yeah, run away like the cowards you are,” JJ shouts after you and although you can feel Rafe’s arm muscles clench, he and you keep walking towards your brother and friends.

Once you are far enough away from JJ you shake Rafe’s arm from around your waste and down your drink. Marlene has disappeared but Kelce, your brother and Abigale are standing in a group together. A girl you have never seen before is hanging off your brother’s arm and another one is standing beside him as he lifts his beer up to his mouth whilst talking to Kelce. Abigale is subtlety glaring at you from where she is standing over by Kelce. You guess it is because she must have seen Rafe’s arm around you before you shook him off. As you get over to the group you get another set of eyes on you. Your brother gives you a stern look and you role your eyes and sigh feeling like everyone is mad at you tonight.

“(Y/N), we need to talk,” Abigale states when you get over to the group. Kelce raises an eyebrow at you but says nothing as you bow your head and - grabbing two beers off the ground - you follow your friend away from the group. When you both stop walking you drop the beers into the sand and go to sit down, but as you see Abigale make no move to sit down as well you stop and straighten up.

“I saw you with Rafe, you snake.”

“Abby, I swear it is not what you think. He put his arm around me, not the other way around,” you close your eyes as you start to feel the buzz from the drink you downed earlier.

“Oh yes sure and I guess it was just a coincidence that you shrugged his arm off right when you got in eye sight of me.” Abigale pushes at your shoulder and you stumble back slightly.

“It isn’t like that.” You massage your temples.

“Tell me what is it like then?”

“For goodness sake Abigale, it is not my fault that he put his arm around me!” you exclaim rather loudly, frustration in your voice.

“You know what, why should I believe you? You have always been a slut. Don’t come near my man again or I’ll give you more just a push.” With that Abby turns away from you, flicking her long hair in your face and strutting back to the group. Slapping both hands to your cheeks you sink down to the ground and sit on the sand, facing out to the sea. Getting a beer and open it with one of the keys in your back pocket. You think about what she said to you. I’m not a slut, am I? It isn’t my fault boys come up to me when I’m dancing. It isn’t like I ever give them any indication I want more. You take a long sip of the beer before putting you head in your hands. Great, you think, I’ve probably just lost my best friends. Too be honest with yourself they weren’t amazing friends in the first place, you weren’t even sure Abigale liked you beforehand but you’ve known both of them since you were little so you stuck with them.

Taking your head out of your hands you finish up the beer. You crack open the other one and putting both lids in your back pocket and picking up the other glass you head back to where you had left your brother and everyone else. To your surprise they aren’t there but hearing a commotion from the main group of people you drop both your empty bear bottles next to the pile your brother and his friends had left and head over to the noise.

When you get over there you see what has been causing all the noise.

“Blake!” You yell, pushing through the people in front of you to get to set of fighting boys. A boy with slightly long hair is going at it with Rafe while JJ has your brother in a choke hold. Although your brother is bigger and a lot bulkier than JJ, JJ seems to over power him with fighting experience. Not knowing quite what to do as you see your brother gasping for air and in JJ’s grip, all that is rushing through your head is that you need to get JJ off him. You don’t trust the boy not to seriously injure him, after all he seemed spiteful enough to want to do so earlier. Thinking fast you run at them, jumping on JJ’s back. He lets out a startled huff but doesn’t let go of your brother.

“Let go of him, you dick!” you yell and when he still doesn’t you have another – not fully thought out – idea. You sink your teeth into his shoulder hard and he yelps, letting go of your brother and dropping him to the ground. The crowd are all making a ruckus behind you and the noise from them is all you can hear as JJ shakes you off him and you fall onto your but on the ground. Your brother gets up from the ground where he had been trying to catch his breath and punches JJ repetitively until he falls to the ground. He then sends a kick JJ’s way not paying any attention to you. Seeing the well-aimed kick at the boy you had just bitten; you jump onto JJ who is on his back on the ground.

“Stop, Blake! He has had enough!” You scream out ready to take the kick which never comes.

Suddenly, everyone starts bolting and you hear a yell, “Police!” someone says.

The beer hits you in that moment and you aren’t able to move fast enough. Next thing you know you find yourself pushed into a police car next to a pretty battered JJ. He ignores you for the whole journey, looking out of the window but you aren’t to bothered by it opting to worry about how your parents would react to this. You get to the station relatively quickly and once you have given the officers your name and parents details you are placed in an empty holding cell with JJ. You sit in silence for a while, considering the mess you are in and how you are going to deal with your parents who you know will be fuming.

“You really bit me,” JJ says, breaking the silence and massaging his aching shoulder. This brings you out of your thought and you look at him as he rubs the place you bit.

“Yeah,” you say sheepishly, scrunching your nose. “Sorry about that”

JJ shrugs it off, the malice from earlier some what gone. “Can you come take a look at my side for me? I can’t see it but it kills.” He turns around so you are facing his back, so your nod is lost to him, but he hears you as you shuffle closer to him. Your cold hands touch his bare back as you fingers pull his shirt up and he flinches slightly.

“Awe, can the poor baby not handle the cold?” You tease, opting to put aside your disagreement from earlier now that you will be sharing a cell for the foreseeable future. Running a cold finger up his spine, you feel him shiver again and you coo as he huffs, irritated. You can almost picture his expression and you laugh smugly.

“Just check my side, smart-arse.” He grumbles sounding slightly amused. You finally check his side and sure enough it is starting to bruise.

“That looks like it hurts,” you say, voice laced with concern even though you have only just met him. He tugs his shirt out of your hand and pulls it back-down.

“No-shit-sherlock.” He turns around to face you and you fall into him slightly as you had initially been balancing on you knees, hands on his back.

“I have a name you know,” you say pulling away from him quickly, face flushed. You’re not sure why you are getting so hot and bothered because sure he is good looking but you’ve known and know many good-looking guys and have always managed to keep your cool around them. You figure it must be all the drink going to your head.

“Oh, I know.” He smirks at you and you raise your eyebrows.

“So why don’t you use it then, Mr know it all.”

“Does it annoy you that I don’t use it?”

“Yes.” He gives you a look, eyes sparkling. He seems so free, so lively and full of adventure – these qualities draw you to him.

“Well, there is your answer then.” You huff in response and move slightly away from him and put your back to the wall. He moves to put his back against the wall as well, forgetting about his side temporarily. It is brought to the front of his mind again as he hits it against the wall and hisses.

“You okay?” You turn to him and scan his face. He just grimaces.

“Peachy.”

“Stop with the smart replies, you’re not falling anyone. I know you side must be hurting you more then you seem happy to admit.”

“And how would you know?”

“I’ve had my fair share of injuries.” His brow crinkles as he looks at you.

“You?” He sounds surprised.

“Let’s just say I’m not the most rational drunk.”

“A party-girl, huh? I never would have guessed.” He says, still grinning but his brow creases slightly; you don’t bring him up on it. “So, what else do you do in your free time?”

“Why do you care?” You ask, suddenly getting defensive. In truth since scuba diving had been stripped from you, all you had really been doing with your life was partying, studying and hanging out with your most likely fake friends.

“I don’t but in case you hadn’t noticed, sweetheart, we aren’t getting out of here any time soon, so amuse me.”

His comment annoys you slightly but not seeing the point of arguing you indulge him. “Oh, you know, the usual kooky things, shopping, big soirée’s, hanging with friends.” You say only slightly sarcastically.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but there has to be more to you then that.”

“I used to scuba-dive,” you say, looking down slightly and JJ can’t help but notice that the memory seems to pain you.

“Used to?” He questions you but is cut off as a police officer comes up to the cell door and takes out a set of keys, shoving one in the lock and unlocking the cell.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he calls out and you stand up.

“That’s me,” you say trying to act more confident then you really are.

“Your parents have come to pick you up; they are waiting in the waiting room. You are free to leave,” the man says.

“Perks of having kook parents,” JJ spits out spitefully and when you go to look back at him, he won’t meet your eyes. His ‘angry at all people who are rich’ façade is back up and you roll your eyes at him.

“Are you going to be okay, JJ?” You say – one last attempt at making peace with the boy.

“Just fine, don’t worry about little old me.” He says will malice.

“Fine. Bye JJ,” you say icily.

“See you around, Princess.”

With that the police officer leads you out of the cell and to the explosion that is going to be the argument which is guaranteed to break out between you and your parents, but only when you get far enough away from anyone who could possibly hear.

Part 2

#jj+x+reader #outer banks #jj #jj x reader #x reader #obx x reader #jj imagine #jj maybank #obx fanfiction #obx #rafe obx #jj obx

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meandmyechoes · 3 years

Text

so, today’s a holiday and I was woken by the summer sun. And I stumbled upon this anime called Joran: The Princess of Snow and Blood.

Basically, I saw beautiful woman in kimono, I clicked. I saw main character named “Yuki” I loved.

And you know, I’m deep in DD recovery/Ventress denial I’m desperate for another assassin/revenge/hot mess character.

Like, Joran is something exactly me at fourteen-year-old would like. And I unironically love it.

Look at its title: The Princess of Snow and Blood - yes that’s the official title in its original text. Isn’t that the most emo thing you’ve heard in a while. I really like this ink-heavy art style. I love a good period piece. I love my assassin ladies with swords. That, plus a brooding black-and-white protag + a bubbly girl they are supposed to kill is just, retro Tezuka vibes I love it

So, the premise/plot is, in a alternate historical 1931 Japan, the protag, Yukimura Sawa, is a last-of-her-kind raised by the secret government agency hunting down a mad scientist that mutates people with drugs developed from her bloodline. And she saved a little girl she was supposed to kill. There’s also a sex worker and a young man in the assassin trio. Oh, and she can transform with a supernatural crow bite. The main plot is just revenge. and stabbing. lots of people getting killed.

With its whole kaleidoscopic style, one might even say it's old-school. It's just the slightest bit of classic anime theatrics. The steampunk aesthetic mixed with just a touch of folklore fantasy (plus political thriller) is right up my alley. Yukimura has a whole henshin sequence and execution speech I almost hoped it would just be a magical girl anime for one foolish instant. Do I selfishly wish it's more a Charlie's Angels with extra girl power than this suspense tragedy? Now that I'm forced to witness that much trauma? Hell yes.

Judging by the info I saw about it being three arcs I reckon it might be better if I do treat it like three four-parter movies. When I clicked episode one this morning I couldn’t stop. It was sweltering and I still laid on my side binging four episodes. The art is so stylistic and the music kicks ass. OP captured me instantly, even faster than Fran Chu Chu this season and that’s saying something.

Even just by the first four episodes it is impossible to put down. There is a plot twist every episode, there are clues but they keep stepping up. The characters are more or less tropical, as the first arc is very Sawa-centric - but I’m interested in learning more about their motivation and background. Now that we’ve cleared up Sawa’s in the first arc, maybe we can see her disillusion in the second and third arcs while exploring deeper into other characters’ history?

I’ve seen review claiming it boring or mediocre. That's not very fair? The first arc might be generic to veteran viewers and neither its setting nor theme were groundbreaking new, but it delivers a solid in your typical revenge journey. It's what goes on after that makes it interesting and feels human to explore. Besides, it’s such a visual and musical fest. The colours and the expressions on the characters faces. She is ruthless and I just light up when she relaxes into a smile.

spoilers since I finished the second arc just now.

My jaw just, dropping the whole time??

Okay so, PTSD Sawa. well I have seen PTSD characters but it still hurts. I did not believe Asahi would do what she did but she DID! And you go of course! for two episodes. And the moment the teacher turns up I just know he's gonna scapegoat. At this point I've learned enough about this anime to know what to expect ok.

That was some depressing mess going on in the second arc. But we got a lot more buildup for the universe and the finale. I greatly appreciate the message in episode 8 and showcasing Sawa's trauma and recovery.

Then, I don't really get, Tsuki's character. Like, I get that he's obsessed with Sawa and perhaps is unrequited love that made him target her personally. Like, I get that, I get why he want to escape Japan on ~freedom~ and his speech about false pretenses - wait, I have a lot of questions about his motivations outside of his obsession with Yukimura as a love intetest/an ideal self. Bro, I sure hope I can wait that one month before the finale comes out. … And um, that part about his gender is just, is it a big part to his motivation? I can't tell?

And I just want to say my ship since the second episode is Elena/Sawa so :) missed you my beloved

also, I'm calling it. Asahi didn't die. they fed her the blue stone.

P.S. it's fucking insane Sawa is 18. I mean, that's a hard life for someone who's only 18. But her youth is also a necessity to her "blank" character (consumed by revenge) and immaturity. I’m gonna pretend i’m bad at japanese history and math and that she’s 28 to feel slightly better about it. but also. she has been killing people for four years at least what.

#joran #myechoes #anime #this is out of nowhere but i’m still writing it down #I LIKE IT A LOT more than i should #i'm still hooked and wanna know more

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25yearsofcrying · 3 years

Text

Julie and The Phantoms

Summary: Trying my own hand at JATP novelization, using the show rather than the novel or the scripts. I’m sure it’s been done before but there’s never enough Julie and the Phantoms, right? If nothing else, I have an excuse to rewatch every single scene of the show all over again.

CHAPTER 3: till our stars collided

Julie

Sitting at the kitchen table, I try to focus on homework. With no more music program in my future, I have no choice but to make school my priority. Maybe I could be a teacher one day. English, perhaps? Definitely not math. No option sounds pleasant.

I can’t stop thinking about the disappointment in Mrs. Harrison face and even less about that in Flynn’s. I don’t even want to imagine Dad’s expression when I tell him. I’ll have to tell him. He has always been so supportive that I know it’ll be devastating for him and I want to delay that moment I see his face crumple. I am not worried about him being upset with me, I am worried about him being sad.

Just as I am thinking about it more than my homework, I hear Dad come down the stairs. “Oh, good, you’re home!” he says and goes on before I can react: “I was just about to go watch your brother’s game. I’ve had photo shoots all day, didn’t even get a chance to eat.” He stops at the fridge but then abandons that trajectory to come sit next to me. “But--- I got a phone call today.”

My heart sinks. That much for telling him later. Hopefully, going to my younger brother Carlos’ game will remind him that he still has one child to be proud of. “Yeah, I figured as much,” I say with a sigh.

But Dad surprises me by not saying anything about the music program. “Yeah. Well, it was my Realtor friend.”

“Oh, that.”

We’ve been talking about selling the house. Both Carlos and I grew up here, so it would be a huge change, but staying here has been painful. For me, especially. Everything in the house reminds me of Mom. Selling has been our tia’s idea. She thinks that we need a fresh start to help us move on and perhaps she is right.

“Yeah, and she says if we are serious about selling the house, then she wants me to take some pictures for the website.” Dad is a professional photographer. In L.A., that job keeps him busy. “Which means we have to do a lot of cleaning and get rid of some stuff. And maybe you can… tackle Mom’s studio? You are the expert.” The studio is the main source of what haunts me. I’ve spent so many hours there as a child, but I haven’t been able to set a foot in since Mom passed. It’s a separate building behind the house, which makes avoiding it easy, but I am always aware it’s there. It’s still filled with all of Mom’s stuff, all her instruments and music-related memorabilia. Most of our history. “You know, your brother an I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

I take a shaky breath.

Dad hurries to reassure me: “It’s okay, honey. If you’re not ready, I---”

But I need to do something. If the fiasco at school today taught me anything, it’s that I need to move on. “No, it’s alright,” I say and offer Dad a crooked smile. “Maybe I’ll try tonight.”

Dad nods and gives me an encouraging nod. “Don’t forget the loft,” he adds before getting up. “You know, those old instruments that were there when we moved in? They need a new home.”

“Mom would like that.”

jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp

It takes me a few moments of hesitation, but I make it through the double door of the studio. It looks eerily like the last time I’ve been here. Dad has covered the piano with a white sheet so it looks even more ghostly in here and he’s been watering the plants so they’ve grown. Other than that, it’s still the bright same space. The fold out couch, the instruments, the chairs hanging from the ceiling.

I walk around. What is worse, the traces of Mom in every corner or her absence? She should be here and I feel closer to her than ever since her death, but it hurts almost as badly as on the day she died.

Pulling the sheet off the piano helps a little. I take a note of sheet music on top of it, but I can’t bring myself to examine it closer. I am not ready yet to see her last piece of music.

Instead, I head up to the loft. The stuff stored there are from before we’ve moved in and none of them carry memories for me. They should be easier to go through than anything on the ground level. It’s a strange mixture of things. Bags and backpacks, instruments and boxes. I notice drumsticks peeking from a box and I glance in and my gaze lands on a CD. The cover looks homemade and for a moment I think it might be a leftover from one of Mom’s old bands, but I don’t recognize anything about it.

And yet it speaks to me.

I pull it out and take it down to the CD player. I turn it on and take a seat on the couch.

Rock music begins to play.

I’ve never heard this song, but I feel it. I am nodding along, even catch myself smiling. The guitars, the drums, it’s pretty great.

A strange, creepy noise interrupts the music. It’s not coming from the CD player but from everywhere. It’s deafening.

A flash of light follows.

And then, to the sound of me gasping, three guys pop into existence. Right in front of me. They materialize from the thin air.

“How did we get back here?” one of them asks.

I scream.

The guys scream, too. There’s three of them, a brown-haired one in a muscle t-shirt, a dark-haired one in a classic rock getup, and a tall blond one in a pink hoodie.

I don’t notice much more than that, because I’m getting off the couch and running out the door and I’m still screaming.

Outside, I almost collide with Dad and Carlos, both of them startled to witness me freak out.

“Whoa! Slow down,” says Dad, lifting his hands defensively. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I have!”

Because that’s the only reasonable explanation. If you consider seeing ghosts reasonable. My brother seems pleased with this, but my heart is pounding like crazy and all I shout is: “Run!”

jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp

In the safety of my room, I consider texting Flynn. An emergency text. Before I can send one, however, there is a knock on my door and Dad appears in the doorway. “Hey!” he says carefully. “I just want to make sure you are okay.”

I give him a hesitant look. “You don’t believe me, do you?” I know it’s crazy, but I know what I saw. There is no way to explain the phenomenon away. It’s not like I can pretend those three teenagers were a trick of the light. They spoke!

“Honey, of course I do,” Dad says and he is full of understanding. I have to admit one thing: Ray Molina is a supportive father and always has been. That’s why disappointing him always hurts. “Mija, I see your mom all the time.”

“This isn’t like that.” I wish it was my Mom I’ve seen. I wouldn’t be screaming then. I wouldn’t be running away.

“I know, it’s different for all of us.”

He doesn’t get it. Dad might be supportive, but he’s come equipped with his own conclusion. “Dad, you’re not listening to me. I saw something out there.” The frustration is audible in my voice.

“All right. Ok.” He is confused but nodding along. “Ok. Tell me what you saw. It’s just you and me here.”

I sigh. “You sound just like Dr. Turner.” For almost the entire year since Mom’s death, I’ve been seeing a therapist. It has been helpful, I can’t argue with that, but this is not a problem for that kind of a professional. An exorcist, maybe.

But Dad says: “Well, maybe seeing Dr. Turner again isn’t such a bad idea…”

“Dad!” It’s clear he is not going to be helpful in this matter. “Can we just drop it?”

He gives me a concerned look but nods. “Alright. Dropped.” He accompanies it with a gesture of drawing a line under the matter. “We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

I wait for him to leave my room before I consider my next steps. I am on my own.

The only shield and weapon I have available hangs on my wall. My cross. It’s just the size for my hand and I grab it. Time to face my fears.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fic #my jatp novel #julie molina #ray molina

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rora-s · 3 years

Text

The Derivative Chapter 11: Prediction

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 10

My foot tapped repeatedly as I sat in a chair outside the principal's office. I had no idea why I had been called out of my english class to be here. Not that I was complaining about being taken out of a monotonous lecture on adjectives and adverbs.

“Hey Abby” I looked up as the door opened and Mrs. Clive was there looking down at me. “Come on in”

I grabbed my backpack and walked into the office, Clive closing the door behind me. Principal Brick was sitting behind his desk. I always thought his name fit his features with how square his head was.

“Take a seat Abby” he offered, I nodded and sat down. Clive took the seat next to me. “I’ve heard a lot about you Ms. Calvin from Mrs. Clive here as well as your other teachers. Many of whom are concerned about certain behavioral issues you’ve shown since joining us here.”

“If this is about that fight in the cafeteria I thought we had that sorted out I mean I didn’t cause it” I quickly defended myself sitting up in my seat.

“We know Abby, that's not what we’re talking about” Clive reassured me.

“Then what is it?” I asked, growing suspicious.

Brick sat forward resting his hands on his desk. “To be completely honest with you Abby, originally we were led to believe by your social worker, a Mr. Grant, that your behavioral problems would be expected considering your history with the foster system and problematic past parent situation.” I shifted in my seat “however, Mrs. Clive has brought a different perspective onto the situation”

My head snapped to look at the teacher. She had a light smile on her face “I got into contact with a friend of mine Michelle Wiat she’s a principal at an elementary school it turned out you attended. She told me about the advanced courses she put you in College Algebra, Calculus. As well as your IQ testing she provided all the documentation as well”

There was a moment where my brain was flustered hearing Ms. Wiat’s name again after so long. Then I finally collected my thoughts “so what does this mean? Are you finally putting me in advanced courses?”

“Not exactly” Brick objected “we believe at this time that this school can no longer provide what you need to learn”

“In other words we know you’re not thriving here” Clive cut in “so I’ve arranged here with Mr. Brick for you to possibly test out of high school”

I was stunned at the news but felt excitement bubbling within me “serious like no more school?”

“Part of it will require you to continue your education somewhere else such as college, university, or career center but you will no longer be attending high school” Brick explained.

“This is awesome,” I cheered excitedly.

“Don’t get too excited you’ll have to take a test to prove you’re capable and that’s only if your father approves all of this” Clive clarified.

I felt my excitement hit a wall “my father?”

“Yes we’ll be sending you home today with a note detailing everything and asking for a parent teacher conference to discuss any other issues that may come of this” Brick informed “since you are still a minor you can’t just make these decisions on your own”

“Right” I murmured as Brick handed me a letter.

“Don’t worry Abby this will all work out and then we’ll get to see what heights you’ll truly be able to reach” Clive reassured me with a hand on my shoulder. As I looked at the paper I didn’t feel as sure.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

3rd POV.

Abby sat out in the hallway at school. She was reading Twelve Years a Slave. The nine year old had been kicked out of her 4th grade class for calling another kid an asshole after he broke her pencils.

“Abigail” she looked up at the familiar disappointed voice of the principal.

“Hello” the girl greeted. “Call me Abby”

The principal, Mrs. Wiat, sighed and sat down next to the girl. “Whatcha reading?”

“Twelve Years a Slave” Abby replied, showing the teacher the book cover.

“Advanced book for someone your age” The principal voiced genuinely surprised.

“It’s a good read but I feel bad for Solomon. He just wants to escape his captivity.” Abby voiced “he didn’t ask for any of his problems he just got dragged into it”

“Do you relate to him?” The woman pressed sensing something.

Abby shrugged and didn’t make eye contact. “Maybe a little”

“Abby, you know calling people mean things is wrong” The principal explained.

“But he broke my pencils,” the girl defended.

“I understand but lashing out isn’t the answer” Mrs. Wiat kept her voice even as she spoke. “Abby, you've been fighting with other kids and not doing your homework. Is there something going on at home? Something you want to tell me?”

The girl shook her head quickly “no nothing”

“Okay” the principal nodded. “Then why don’t you do your homework?”

“Because isn’t the point of homework to practice the stuff you learn in class?” The fourth grader asked.

“That’s right,” the principal nodded. “Which is why you need to do it to learn.”

“But I already know the stuff,” Abby objected. “I mean I get perfect scores on the tests so why do I have to do the homework?”

The principal found herself speechless at the fourth graders logic. “Because it factors into your grade”

“Well what's more important in school for me to learn or for me to get good grades?” The girl challenged.

“Abby” the principal sighed. Then a thought came to her “I want to send a note home with you for your mother” the principal explained “I want to talk to her and get you in a more advanced program at least for your reading level maybe math also”

“Does this program have homework?” Abby questioned.

The principal chuckled lightly “Unfortunately Abby all of life has homework.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Abby POV.

“What you think he’ll say no?” Charlie asked as he moved some papers around on the table.

“I don’t know what he’s going to say,” I exclaimed, my chin resting on the table the note from my teachers in my hands. “That’s the part that bothers me.”

“Well then I suppose the only way to resolve that would be to ask him” Charlie argued. I let out a breath in a huff. “Listen Abby, you've been arguing to learn more advanced curriculum since you got here and I’d wager even before then. This is a great chance for you. I’m sure Don will see that and let you test out okay?”

“Yeah” I murmured. “Don’t tell him about this though I want to be the first one to talk to him”

“My lips are sealed” the mathematician vowed as he typed on his laptop.

A moment later Alan came in from the kitchen and I folded the note and stuffed it in my pocket. “Hey,” he greeted “Charlie whatcha working on there?”

“Sabermetrics” Uncle C replied with a sigh “baseball math found on a dead man’s computer Don’s having me look at it for a case”

“Oh” Alan murmured a little put off from the dead man fact. He walked up behind Charlie peering over his shoulder “What do these formulas tell you?”

“The ones I’ve recovered indicate that the Dodgers are not on the right track to win the pennant next year” Charlie informed.

“Like you needed math to figure that one out, huh?” Gramps muttered.

Charlie chuckled “no”

“I heard that, uh, Don was leaning towards the wife.” Alan voiced.

“That’s right,” Charlie confirmed.

“Seems to be the first place they look nowadays” Alan mused.

“I don’t understand” Charlie agreed “I mean, if you hate the person you’re married to that much, get divorced.”

“Even the thought of divorce holds its own special horrors, let me tell you” Alan sighed.

“Well, you and mom never thought about- I mean, I was never witness to any kind of-” Charlie stammered as his father leaned on a chair.

“That’s exactly the way we wanted it.” Alan explained. Charlie shifted in his chair, eyes still fixed on Alan urging him to continue “well, it was a long time ago, we, um. We had a little rough patch there for a moment, but we got through it.”

Charlie closed his laptop slowly and I looked between the two men wondering where this conversation was going “how rough a patch are we talking about?” Uncle C questioned.

“It was when you were 13 years old,” Alan offered willingly “and you went off to Princeton.”

“Mom came with me,” Charlie added.

“The separation was pretty hard on both of us” Alan admitted “and aside from the money matters, there was this irrational jealousy. Anyway, even the possibility of divorce was never discussed, because we loved each other too much.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Charlie murmured. “I don’t even remember a raised voice between the two of you.”

“That’s because your mother and I both agreed that we wouldn’t stress you or Don any more than we had to.” Alan explained sitting down. “Charlie that’s how parents argue in front of their children; they disguise the big things as little things.”

Charlie was quiet for a moment looking at his work. I stood up and made to leave the room a churning feeling in my gut. “Abby you alright?” Alan called after me.

“Yeah, yeah fine I just, homework” I lied horribly but Gramps didn’t seem to be questioning it and I didn’t really give him time to before I was bolting up the stairs.

I collapsed on the bed in Don’s old room. Charlie going to college early had put a huge strain on his parents' lives. What kind of strain would I be putting on Don if I graduated early? In all my nagging why hadn’t I considered how this would affect Don. After everything my mom went through and sacrificed for me growing up was I really going to make my other parent sacrifice for me too? Let alone one I’d only known for less than a year?

I groaned and grabbed the pillow covering my face. When did my life get so complicated?

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

3rd POV.

Abby sat bored in yet another class at school. She glanced at the clock and sighed. Wondering how difficult it would be to slip out a side door during a passing block. The public library wasn’t too far from the school and it would be open at this time.

Then her mom's words came back to her. She glanced around the class all of whom were still working on the algebra assignment she had already finished. How was she going to become friends with any of them? Most of them were upper middle class with well to do parents. Nice clothes, new backpacks, and cell phones. Abby wore thrift store clothes, had an old backpack that had seen better days, and never had a cell phone in her life.

The bell rang jogging her from her thoughts. Gathering her things Abby headed out into the hallway. Going to the freshman lockers to ditch her stuff from algebra and grab her English stuff.

They were reading “Of Mice and Men” which she had already read years prior. She remembered every word and had told her teacher as much but the woman had still insisted that Abby bring her copy to class everyday. Despite the obvious redundancy.

“Hey gutter kid” Abby heard the call and turned just in time to get hit in the face by someone’s backpack. “Oops looks like Miss smarty pants isn’t much of a quick thinker.”

Abby recovered quickly and looked to see who had thrown the bag. She wasn’t surprised to see a gaggle of laughing popular kids not far off. She looked down at the back pack and reared punting it down the hall.

She smirked broadly as one of the kids ducked and another got a face full as she had.

“Why you little” One of the kids came at her, pinning her to the locker. She kicked out on reflex and before she knew it a fight had broken out in the hallway.

When a teacher finally showed up and pulled them apart. Abby was shocked that he first turned to the kid who had started it.

“What happened?” the teacher asked them.

“She attacked me-“

“I did not you liar!” Abby objected loudly.

“You be quiet” The teacher ordered her.

“But I didn’t-“

“Come on I’m taking you to the office now” the teacher ordered. He grabbed Abby’s arm and led her down the hallway.

Not long after she was sitting outside the principal's office. She could hear everything going on inside.

“She has a history of ditching” the teacher, Mr. Simons, was saying. “And now she’s picking fights.”

“Abby skips because she isn’t learning anything in her classes if you put her in the advanced class-“

“That girl shouldn’t even be in regular classes,” Simons objected. “And don’t act like she’s some genius from the look of her I’d say she skips to go out drinking and do drugs-“

“Don’t you dare talk about my daughter like that!” Janice yelled.

“Settle down both of you and Simons sit the hell down” the principal suddenly snapped. Then continued in a quieter but not any less tense tone “What exactly did Chris say happened?”

“That she attacked him in the hallway” Simons stated “unprovoked”

“Alright and what did Abby-“

“Why do you need any more convincing? It’s obvious what happened! What are you going to trust the word of some delinquent that can’t be bothered to show up to class or the straight A quarterback.”

“My daughter is no liar!” Janice exclaimed. “She doesn’t go to class because she already knows everything that’s being taught cuz you refuse to put her in the advanced classes”

“Do you really think a girl with elementary school education like Swiss cheese is actually going to make it in an advanced class?” Simons scoffed arrogantly.

“She can remember everything that she’s ever read perfectly just ask her” Janice shot back.

“Will you two stop!” The principal exclaimed and sighed. “I’m putting both students involved on temporary suspension”

“What!” Simons exclaimed. The office descended into loud bouts of indiscernible yelling. Abby closed her eyes and tuned them and the world out the best she could.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

“You alright?” Charlie asked hesitantly as him and Don left the Lorman group headquarters.

“Yeah” Don murmured “It’s just all this stuff about predicting human potential I can’t help thinking about how it’d impact Abby you know?” he explained as the pair loaded into his SUV. “I mean she doesn’t really talk about it but I got enough from her social worker to know that her and Janice lived in some not great neighborhoods growing up.”

“And this predictive model would have slighted against her despite her potential” Charlie inferred.

“Exactly I mean she’s incredibly smart” Don explained “and I’ve been trying to go to bat with her regarding these advanced courses and stuff. Like, you were already in college at her age and she’s that same kind of smart. I just want her to have all the opportunities she deserves.”

Charlie chuckled slightly “you know this side of you Abby brings out it- its kinda weird”

“Yeah? Good weird or bad weird?” Don inquired.

“Definitely good weird” Charlie assured.

Don sighed “I guess I finally just understand what Mom and Dad meant when they said they wanted the world for us, you know. And that’s what I want for Abby” Don explained and Charlie smiled working very hard to keep his mouth shut about Abby’s letter from her teachers.

_____________

Don glanced up at Abby as she ate her fries, her eyes scanning over the book she had laying on the table. They were eating dinner in their apartment now that he was back from the long case he’d just worked. The man took a deep breath deciding he had given her enough time “so I talked to Ms. Clive today and set up the time for the parent/teacher conference”

Abby’s head snapped up so fast he was a little concerned “how did you? Did she tell you? Uh…” she fumbled over her words.

Don scoffed setting down his burger “Abby, first off my job is to figure things out second off if you want a secret kept your uncle is the last person you should tell” Abby groaned putting her head in her hands and muttering a curse word or two towards Charlie. Don chuckled lightly “the only thing I don’t get is why you didn’t tell me. I mean, this is what you’ve been after forever I thought you would have jumped at it”

“I was and I am… excited” Abby replied carefully biting her lip nervously which made Don shift in his seat. “It’s just… I know me going to college early is a big deal and it’s going to change things for me a- and for you and I didn’t want to make your life harder than I already had”

Don was surprised by the confession and even more concerned as his daughter refused to make eye contact with him. He thought about what to say and only one thing came to mind “Abby I want the world for you” he told her.

The girl looked up in surprise, her eyes meeting her father’s “what?”

“Listen I don’t care if this is going to change some things. Because I’m here for you” Don explained “Listen, I appreciate the concern but it’s the parents job to worry about the kid not the other way around or at least not until I’m old and gray” a small smile spread on Abby’s face.

“Thanks Don” Abby told him.

“Yeah, of course” Don nodded and he could tell Abby felt a lot better. Not just from this situation but it was like another wall had fallen down, chain had been released. And for him it was like another puzzle had been solved, another crisis averted. For both another step toward being family.

Chapter 12 ->

#numb3rs #numb3rs season 1 #Don Eppes #Charlie Eppes #alan eppes #amita ramanujan #larry fleinhardt #david sinclair #terry lake #fanfiction #Don is a dad #abby calvin #episode per chapter #Episode Related #also on ao3 #also posted on quotev

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trashboatprince · 4 years

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No one asked for it, but I’m writing Radio Omens during the Dowlings days.

But they’re not Nanny and Francis, oh no, this time they’re the tutors from the book, Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese.

On ao3, I did post up a drabble I wrote where Nanny and Francis were their own characters, like it’s hinted in the book, and was influenced by my own thing to write this up where the tutors are another version of Crowley and Aziraphale. It’s mentioned in the drabble after that one, but yeah.

So, enjoy the Radio boys doing something dumb.

On with the fic!

“I think... that is enough for today.” Harrison sighed through his nose, snapping the book in his hand shut. Warlock looked excited about this and slammed his own book shut.

“Did I do well, Mr. Harrison?” He asked, kicking his feet under the table. They were supposed to be learning about the 100 Years War, but somehow, SOMEHOW... Warlock flipped the history lesson on Harrison and turned it into a blessed maths lecture.

“Yes, now, go and have lunch, I do believe it should be ready now. I think the chef is making your favorite.” He should know, he had ‘suggested’ it to the man, AKA, he made a small threat.

Warlock grinned brightly and rushed from the small library inside of the Dowling estate. The dark-haired man watched him run off before sighing loudly, leaning back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes from behind his shades.

“Troubled, Mr. Harrison?”

Cracking open an eye, he looked at the man who seemed to appear out of nowhere, dressed smartly in dark dress pants and a light button up, dark blond hair brushed to the side, and a smug look on his face.

“Mr. Cortese, what do you want? Your lessons aren’t until tomorrow.” Harrison replied, ignoring the question.

“I came to see what you were teaching the boy today.” He lifted up the history book off the desk, flipping through it. “This is a bit out dated.”

“It’s what the Dowlings bought for his lessons, blame them.”

Cortese chuckled and set the book aside, taking a seat on the table, looking at the other man. The two of them had been hired by their respective bosses, Mr. Crowley and Mr. Aziraphale, to take over on influencing the Antichrist after Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis stepped down.

Speaking of those two, last Harrison heard, they got together after skirting around the subject for so many years.

As for him and his adversary here... well, there was never any skirting about, day one working in the Dowling residence ended up with them making out in the coat closet.

Thin fingers toyed with the tie around the dark-haired man’s neck, his smug look turning more coy. “Mmm, sure, the books they’ve given me are lacking, going to have to get some of my personal collection to give this boy a true lesson on what is right and what is wrong.”

“Heh, you just want an excuse to have access to your own books.” He was quick, pulling Cortese onto his lap, planting a kiss to his neck. “But enough about work, let’s talk you and me, wanna go out this weekend? Don’t think we have to play babysitter for the kid this time.”

Cortese sighed, leaning into the kisses at his skin. “What did you have in mind exactly?”

“My flat, after a nice dinner.”

“You mean your flat, after I have a nice dinner and you’ve drank half your body weight in rich wines.”

“You’ve just improved my plans.” He nipped at the skin, undoing a shirt button-

“Mr. Harrison!” The door to the library was thrown open and Cortese shouted as he was suddenly flung from Harrison’s lap, landing on the floor as Warlock came rushing into the room. “Did I leave my work in here? Mom wants to see what I’ve learned today!”

Harrison blinked, a bit flustered and startled. “Uh... y-yeah, sure, where you left it.”

Warlock grabbed the papers, paying no attention to the man on the floor. “Thanks! See ya!” He ran from the room, happily singing one of his nanny’s old songs to himself as he went down the hall.

“Well... that happened.” Harrison spoke, turning to look at Cortese. “You okay?”

“A warning would be lovely next time, you wily fool!”

“Well, next time I think you should lock the door after entering.” He scoffed, helping the man off the floor. “But for real, are you okay? Didn’t mean to send you flying.”

Cortese dusted himself off before sitting down in his previous spot again, a little harder with his drop, making Harrison huff. He looked at his adversary and removed his shades, looking at the golden eyes he sported. “You owe me for this, my dear boy. I don’t rightly appreciate being sent to the floor, rather rude, if you ask me.”

“Can’t have the boy seeing us doing things a seven year old shouldn’t witness.” Harrison replied as he wrapped his arms around him. “Don’t want him asking his parents why his teachers were doing things that looked much different from hugging and wrestling.”

“I do believe I am the one who told you about that, and yet here you are, trying to leave marks on my neck.” Cortese sighed dramatically.

“Hmph! Gotta make sure people know you have yourself a boyfriend, I know that one security guard was checking you out the other day, don’t think I didn’t see him staring.”

The other man’s smug look was back. “You mean Greg? A sweet boy, always has something nice to say to me.” He felt the grip around him tighten, hearing a growl from the agent of a demon. Cortese chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it when you’re possessive over me, it’s rather charming, kind of cute.”

“Uhg.” Harrison made a face. “Don’t say that.”

“You’re cute.”

“Shut it, angel boy! Or you’ll be smooching the carpet again!”

“And you’ll have to forget all about date night then if you so much as even think of removing me from my perch!”

“... Touche.”

If I get any ideas or even suggestions for this version of the Radio Omens boys, I’ll gladly write more. I love writing the TV and the book versions, but Radio Omens needs more love.

#good omens #radio omens #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #warlock dowling #john's drabbles

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almondeyes-biased · 4 years

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Birthday celebration fanfic for my one and only bby boy, Im Changkyun! I love him so so so much I wish him what's best 💓

Disclaimer: please excuse any errors, English is not my first language and I wrote this really late after finishing a paper for university. Love you all

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Im Changkyun x reader

Summary: Changkyun is there to save an awful day at school.

highschool!au, student!au, changkyun highschool boy!au

I can’t remember, and probably don’t want to, the first time I walked past my new school doors and took a look around. I remember, however, the feeling of terror I had, as the last time I changed school things didn’t go so well. Actually, I am the exact opposite of a girl who would never speak or be silent. I am very loud, I am loud even when I’m trying to whisper. I laugh really loudly, something that might cause others to look at me with the corner of their eye, as if I have committed the worst crime humanity every witnessed. And for that, I draw attention. Not always for a good cause. For example, I remember when I was 15, when a group of girls I considered my “friends” ditched me because I “ruined their image” and after that, another girl I really appreciated who always shushed me when we were taking walks because she wanted the boys to notice her.

So when my parents announced me that we were moving city, I was mortified. Being the class clown in a school that they already know you is way better than having to make a brand new start in another, where no one knows you. Personally, I would prefer to find a job in an actual circus than having to go through the hell of trying to socialize in a new high school.

Long story short, I have been in this school for some months now, it is near the end of the first semester. And I can’t believe I am actually saying this, but things are going better than expected. I hang out with some kids, I wouldn’t call them exactly “friends” but they’re okay. They are patient with me, at least. I haven’t heard a single complaint about me being loud or a comment about my laughter, so I guess that’s fine for now. I don’t think I would like to tie things with people right now, given that it’s just a year and I guess I won’t get to see most of them after high school is over. I don’t feel they really cared for that anyway.

I can’t say that the past months have not changed me. It’s probably the music I’m currently listening to, the poetry I’ve grown so much fond of, or both at a time, but I feel like I notice things more now. The small, unimportant things I didn’t pay attention to earlier, now they seem like the ones who shape my every day. I think I am calmer now. Same loud, but calmer. But not having a person to tell my secrets to or trust more than others is really killing me, because at the end of the day all I have left is my parents, but I am 18 years old. What secrets could I have, you’ll ask.

Well, there is a boy.

He is not very tall, with light brown, probably dyed but still so healthy, hair, and almond eyes. And with the beautiful smile I have ever seen in my life. He is in my year but has different classes, but still I get to see him in some classes of choice we have in common, in choir (the boy has the most seductive voice I have heard, I’m telling you), literature and subtitling. I think he is in the music section while I am in Linguistics, but still meet him before classes and in most breaks. His name is Changkyun, I only hear it when teachers call for him. I haven’t had the chance to talk to him more than a simple exchange of greeting down the hallway, he is really shy and I don’t want to bother him with my loudness, I don’t think he’d appreciate his calmness being shattered.

He is not often surrounded by a bunch of people, like others of our classmates. He is not the type to talk much, to express himself with every chance he’s given. Every time I see him, he is silent and throws a glance or two, with a couple of small, cute smiles here and there to the person he’s talking to. He is the exact opposite of me, in all means.

And maybe that’s why I fell for him in the first place.

That one particular day, I was not really in the mood for much. First period sucked, and I was in serious thinking of dropping out for the day. When the bell rang, I gathered my stuff and put my earphones on. I walked down the hallway, not saying a word to anyone and avoiding the glances of my classmates and teachers, and got out of the door, to the backyard of the school. Instead of running off, I threw my bag on the ground and sat on it, thank god there was only a few people around and I could have some time alone for once in this school. I took a deep breath and moved my head to the rhythm of “everything i wanted.” This song I felt a lot those days, and still do.

Caught in the moment, I didn’t notice the figure that moved close to me. So I jumped and let out a small scream when a hand touched my shoulder. I turned around and-

“Sorry, I didn’t men to scare you. I just didn’t think anyone else would be here at this hour,” Changkyun said, giving me his hand to help me get up. I sighed, relieved that it was only him who, to be honest, was the only person who wouldn’t bother me at that time. I got up and thanked him.

“I never thought I’d see you sitting alone, most of the time you have some people around, not many but still,” he continued.

“I don’t feel like talking much today, I thought I could use some time for myself.” When I realized I could have pushed him away with my words, I added: “You’re no bother, of course.” He smiled and sat next to me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him. He smiled shyly and avoided my glance.

“I wasn’t in the mood for math today, so I think I’ll skip.”

I raised my eyebrow, a small smile on my lips.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who skips classes,” I said, and he laughed quietly.

“Oh believe me, sometimes I am very much the type of guy who skips classes.”

There was something in the way he spokexor it was probably my mere excitement that I was finally talking to him more than a simple hello, and I made a funny noise,which caused me to almost laugh at myself. But soon enough I covered my mouth with my hand, afraid I would embarrass myself again, and gave him a shy glance as some guys turned around and looked at me, and I cursed myself for the first time for being so loud. He shook his head and touched me feather-like on my arm, then quickly removed his hand.

“D-Don’t hold it back, I like it when people laugh their hearts out,” he said.

“My laughter is a people’s persecutor at times,” I said bitterly. “People think being loud is a very dangerous and contagious disease.”

“I don’t,” he said immediately, which made me turn and look at him. “I don’t mind people being loud, though I am not at all like it. And- ” he cut himself off as if he was measuring his next words. I looked at him with cocked eyebrows, but he avoided my glance.

“You’re cute when you laugh.”

“You- I- You think I am cute?” I asked him, stressing out the “I.” He nodded, biting his lower lip and not looking at me more than stealing some glances, as he used to do anyway. I smiled.

“I am Changkyun, by the way.” I nodded.

“I know. I am Y/N.”

“I remember, although I haven’t heard you a lot in class,” he pointed out and I nodded.

“I don’t really like being orally examined in class, I prefer written exams.”

“You like singing, though.”

He had noticed.

He didn’t give me time to reply when, after looking around first, he turned to me again and said quietly with a cutely mischievous glance:

“I know a bookstore with slow rock music where they offer coffee to those who sit there to study or read, wanna come with me?”

“You said you’re skipping only math class,” I said, and he laughed quietly before grabbing my hand, getting up and throwing his backpack over his shoulders while waiting for me to do the same, and then guided me out of the school doors, carefully so that no one would notice.

“I changed my mind.”

#kpop #monsta x #monsta x im #monsta x changkyun #im changkyun #im changkyun boyfriend #im changkyun x reader #monsta x imagines #changkyun fluff #changkyun imagines #im x reader #im changkyun happy birthday #happy birthday baby boy 💓💓#im changkyun fluff #monsta x im fluff #im changkyun smut #im x reader fluff #im x reader smut

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

Text

What's the most beautiful thing you've seen in the last week? Snapchats/IG stories my cousin posted of the ocean while she was there earlier this week.

What is beauty, in your opinion? Something you find aesthetically pleasing.

What's your favorite brand of potato chip? Original Ruffles and ranch dip is quite good. Of all the bands you hate, which do you hate the least? I can’t think of any band I hate. There’s bands I don’t like because I just don’t vibe with their music, but I don’t hate them. Do you believe it is possible to know something that's false? Yes?

Does man have free will? Yes. How many people have you ever dated? Two. Would you rather do evil or have evil done to you? Uh, neither... Who's better, Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera? I like songs from both of them. How many friends do you have? Zero. What's worse, algebra or geometry? I hate math, period. We didn’t vibe. Are you a vegetarian of any sort? Nope. What's your sexual orientation? Straight. Who do you look up to? My mom. Should art that does not represent anything be considered art at all? Anything can be considered art. Just because it might not represent anything to you, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t. People can look at the same thing and see something totally different. Have you ever... Literally wanted to kill someone? Stayed up all night...two nights in a row? Had a near-death experience? Been obsessed with a celebrity? Believed a person to be perfect in every way? <<< Only Jesus. Been hated by the people at an online forum? Planned your own suicide? Had an overwhelming religious experience? Fainted? Had an imaginary friend? Been windsurfing? Volunteered for an organization without having been forced into doing so? Wanted something so badly you'd sell your soul for it? Seen something so disgusting you puked? <<< Pretty damn close. Changed your mind about something important three times in one day? Written anything longer than twenty pages (typed, single-spaced)? Read anything longer than one thousand pages (in one day)? Felt as if you could do anything? Taken a friend on a family trip? Attended a Marxist gathering? Memorized the lyrics to the Internationale? Witnessed a solar eclipse? Fallen asleep during class? Been away from your family for more than six weeks? Which of the following best describes you Simple/Sophisticated Altruistic/Selfish Smart/Dumb <<< Kinda smart, kinda dumb. I feel I’m just average. Cute/Ugly Reader/Writer Math nerd/history buff <<< Neither. Into sports/Into music Unwavering/Impulse Serious/Funny Favorite Type of animal: Dogs and giraffes. Word: *shrug* Number: 8. Music video: I’ll say Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi video because it has Alexander Skarsgard haha. TV show: I have several. Philosopher: I don’t have one. Video/computer game: Mario Bros anything pretty much, Animal Crossing: New Horizons, and The Sims. Sport (to play): None. Sport (to watch): None. Living political figure: I don’t have one. Work of art: The Scream by Edvard Munch. Month of the year: October and December. Name: Alexander. Calculator: Uh, I don’t have a favorite calculator. I just use the one on my phone if I need one. Comic strip: Peanuts.

Enemy: I don’t have any enemies. If I did, I don’t think I’d have a favorite one... Year of your life: I’ll give you a decade: the 90s. Teacher: I’m not in school anymore.

Restaurant: Wingstop. Textbook: Do you crave adventure? I’d like to travel. I really could use a vacay. Do you wear glasses? Yep. What's the purpose of your life? I haven’t figured that out, yet. Do you have moral integrity? Yes. Do you like your family? Yes, I love my family. Do you like yourself? No. :/ Would you ever respond "Yes" to the question "Are you hungry or full?" No? Your religion? Christian. What do you care about most in your life? God and my family. Have you heard the term "Luddite?" Uhh, nope. Have you ever been elected a class officer? No. Do you get good grades? I’m done with school now, but yeah I got A’s and B’s. Do you litter? NO. Huge pet peeve of mine. Just throw it away! Are you a paragon of virtue? A what? Okay, so I Googled it and it’s a term for someone who describes themselves as being perfect and having no faults or imperfections; often used sarcastically and ironically. I am certainly no such person, no one is, and I wouldn’t even say I was joking cause just no. I clearly have faults and imperfections. I know people who would use that term about themselves, though. What is virtue, in your opinion? Having to do with morals. Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend? How long have you been together? Why do you like him/her? Nope. Is incest wrong? Yes. Do you have a calendar of any sort? Yeah, I have a physical one and the one on my phone. What time is it? 6:04AM. Tell me something interesting. I got nothin’. Do you cuss? Not a lot, but yes.

Are you bilingual(/trilingual/quadrilingual, if that's a word/etc.)? No. I wish.

Are you mentally ill? I have major depression and anxiety. Does mental illness exist? Uh, yeah it absolutely does. Ever fallen in love online? No, but in 6th grade I had an online boyfriend I met in a teen chatroom lmao. I would say I was like 16 or 18. I shouldn’t laugh cause it’s very likely the guy was probably an old perv. Who is John Galt? I don’t know. How many songs are on your playlist? I have no idea, but it’s a shit ton. What's your favorite singer/band? Linkin Park is definitely my top favorite band, but I have many favorite artists and bands. List three favorite songs. That’s too hard. Do you approve of math jokes? I probably wouldn’t even get them, ha.

How about "your mom" jokes? Not a fan. Are you addicted to online surveys? Yeah, you could say that. Are you addicted to anything else? Caffeine :O <<< Same. Do you have any anti-technological tendencies? No. Are you bored? Nah. Who do you despise? Evil, sick, disturbing people. If you could cure one social ill, what would it be? Child abuse. If you were dictator of the US, what's the first thing you would do? I wouldn’t want to be a dictator, for one. Also, I wouldn’t want to be in control in any kind of way over the country. How many kids would you like to have? Zero. What's the biggest lie you've told within the past two weeks? I haven’t told any huge lies in the past two weeks. Do you have AOL? No. I haven’t had AOL since like 2004. Do you consider yourself a loser? “Soy un perdedor, I’m a loser, baby.” Are you putting off something important to take this survey? Sleep? It’s 6:22AM, but sadly that’s become the norm for me this year. If you could change the design on the American flag, how would it look? I’ll leave it the way it is. Why do you believe children like stuffed animals? Because they're soft and cuddly. <<< Would you rather die or have ten random strangers die? Wtf. Do you believe nuclear weapons should be eliminated? Absolutely. Education? What about it? I think it’s very important if that’s what you mean. Slavery? Of course not! Do you deliberately cause physical harm to yourself? In a way I have since I don’t take care of myself like I should. I’ve neglected and ignored things I shouldn’t have. Are definitions for losers? No?? We need to know the meaning of words... Summarize yourself in one word. Blah. Do you have any pets? I have a doggo! Ever had a blood transfusion? I’ve had a few. Who was your first crush? This kid named Philip when I was in the 3rd grade. When did you have it? Oh. ^^^ What's your earliest memory? Preschool memories come to mind first. Are you listening to anything right now? Yeah, an ASMR video. Are you a good writer? People have said that I am, *shrug* Are you physically disabled in any way? Yes, I’m a paraplegic. Would you rather lose an arm or a leg? I guess a leg out of the two. As someone who relies on their arms for everything, I really need those. I’d like to keep all my limbs; though, thanks. Are you easily amused? Yeah, you could say that. Are you socially inept? I’m socially awkward, is that the same? Who's your favorite fictional character? Eric Northman. Where will you be in twenty years? Gah, I can’t think about that. Do you remember the 1996 election? No. I turned 7 that year , I didn’t pay attention to that stuff. I was a kid, I cared about kid stuff. Do you remember anything that happened in 1996? I remember I got the chicken pox. Is it worse to be considered unfeeling or irrational? I’d say both. What's the greatest sports team of all time? I really don’t care about sports at all. What turns you on/off? It’s been so long, who knows. Do you get angry over little things? No, but I do get very irritable and frustrated quite easily. If you could have one wish (other than more wishes), what would it be? Good health. Do you enjoy hypothetical questions? Ehh, depends.

How much will you accept without proof? Uhhh. Ever dumped someone? Yes.

Ever beaten someone up? No. Ever been addicted to drugs/alcohol/tobacco? No. Who's your best friend? My mom. Who's your second-best friend? My younger brother. Do you approve of democracy? Yes.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #long one

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mrcleanheichou · 5 years

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Forever and Ever

When two young people fall in love others often call it puppy love. A love so intense that ultimately fizzles out very quickly. No one believes someone so young could fall for someone so fast and have it be genuine until they see it with their own eyes.

Pairing Cowboy!Jungkook x reader

Genre fluff, angst, smut

Word count 2.2K

Warnings small amount of smut like touching the D over his pants and peer pressure (if that’s a warning)

A/N Hi everyone! This is my first ever fic that I’ve written in 2 years. I used to run a smut reaction blog for another fandom. So this is my first actual plot based story. I want to thank @poundingthewitchdrums93 for helping me cultivate this countryside yee haw AU and to @machiavelliancarribeanmidget for always encouraging me. This is also very self indulgent because i really wanted Cowboy Jungkook but i couldn’t find any fics. So I took matters into my own hands and this baby was born.

Chapter 1

1935

Once a week for the past 3 years, rain or shine, an old man makes his way to the town cemetery. Cemetery workers know him by name and they all have a soft spot for him. They all pitched in and bought a nice bench for him so he no longer had to sit on the ground. He wanted to pay them back for their kindness but they refused his money as it was their gift. So instead of showing his thanks with money he started bring apples from his apple orchard. He had always brought two each time he came but now he brings a bag full to share. She would have wanted it that way. She always told him ‘When you have something sweet you should never keep it all to yourself.’

The man dropped off the bag of apples at the office and made his way down the winding path. As he got closer to his destination he saw the sunflowers he had planted. She always loved them, never missing the opportunity to tell him that they reminded her of him. ‘They are bright and always move towards the sun just like you.’

He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he places the apple down in front of the headstone that reads “*Jeon Y/N, Doting wife and loving mother 1840-1932*

“Do you remember what day it is, Y/N? This is the day I met the woman I would love forever.”

1862

“Hyung, I don’t want to go” a young man whines as his big black horse walks behind two others, whose riders are way more enthusiastic.

“I don’t want hear it, Jungkook. I already told you we’re going to make you a man. You’re 20, it’s time you get your dick wet.”

“I’ve never heard a man complain about losing his virginity before”, the smaller of the two snickered looking back at the younger man. Jungkook just rolls his eyes and adjusts his hat.

“I’d rather not lose it to some random prostitute. Unlike you two heathens I have morals” he barked back.

“Oh, don’t be so uptight. Jimin and I both lost ours at a brothel.”

“They know what they’re doing so you’re in good hands... Literally”, Jimin laughs as he stops his horse “Taehyung and I are both paying for you and we’re getting you the top girl. So be grateful.”

“Yeah, you little shit. Do you know how much she charges? You’re lucky we love you”, Taehyung says as he snaps his reins to get his horse to start jogging.

As the town gets closer Jungkook can’t help but feel dread. He really does not want to go to the saloon with his hyungs. They always push him to go upstairs with the saloon girls but he manages to escape every time. This time he knows they are going to ensure he goes into the room. It’s not like he thinks there’s anything wrong with having sex with the saloon girls it’s just not something he’s interested in. He wants to only do that with the woman he falls in love with. Call him old fashioned but he knows what he wants.

The town they come to is called Coyote Creek. It’s a small town but it’s closer to Bangtan Ranch than Silver Landings, a much larger town, is. Personally Jungkook loves this little town, everyone is friendly and there’s hardly any trouble unless a group of rouge bandits or some angry drunk cowboys come through. But the sheriff and his deputies take care of them quickly.

Riding through town Jungkook hears a sound that always makes him smile. The children are out playing during school. He loves to see them have fun and know that they’re learning. He feels envious each time though because his father didn’t let him go to school. He made him work at their farm all day. Constantly telling him he was only good for working in the fields so why waste time sending him to school. Although Jungkook never got a proper education that does not mean he isn’t smart. He’s very quick witted and knows his way around the world. He just has trouble reading things and some issues with math. The man who took Jungkook in and hired him as a ranch hand tried teaching him but it ended up with both of them getting frustrated.

Stopping his horse to watch the children and to say hello to Mrs. Choi, the kind teacher who he always greets. But instead of Mrs. Choi he is shocked to see a beautiful young woman there instead.

“Jinwoo, apologize to Yeunjae. It’s not nice to hit”, the woman says firmly. She is standing beside a crying boy who is holding onto her skirt for dear life.

“I’m sorry for hitting you”, another boy says while looking at the ground in shame. The first boy sniffles and mumbles “It’s ok.”

“Thank you, Jinwoo, for saying you’re sorry, now both of you run along and play with everyone else.”

The woman moves to sit on the steps of the school to watch over the children. While Jungkook sits watching her transfixed.

“Yah! Kookie hurry up!” Jimin yells at him already tying his horse up. At that the woman looks over and notices Jungkook staring. Jungkook panics and freezes at the eye contact. He finally snaps out of it and hurries to where Jimin and Taehyung were waiting blushing furiously. If Jimin and Taehyung saw how red his face is they didn’t say anything.

“Why were you taking so long?”, Taehyung asks as they walk into the loud smoke filled room.

“No reason, I just started spacing out.”

“Well, you better not do that later. Just because they’re getting paid doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to show them a good time”, Jimin said as they navigated through the poker tables with high stakes games being played. Once they made it to the bar Taehyung ordered a full bottle of whiskey and three glasses. As soon as they sit down to start drinking a woman comes up to them.

“Why hello there Jimin. Did you really miss me that much?”, A woman said running her hand on Jimin’s chest.

“You know I always miss you Ros��”, he says making her giggle. “But I’m not here for me I’m here for my friend over there”, he pulls out some cash “I was hoping you could show him a good time. He’s never been with a woman.”

Rosé looks over at Jungkook while he tries to shrink in his chair. “Ooo Jimin look at what you brought me. A virgin and a cute one to boot. Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll send some of my other girls down for you two”, she says tucking the money into her bra as she approaches Jungkook and touches his cheek which makes him flinch.

“It’s ok honey, I don’t bite”, she smiles at him before she leans closer to his ear “unless you want me to.” He immediately turns red while she smirks at his reaction.

“C’mon big boy lets go upstairs”, she says as she grabs his hand and starts to lead him to the private rooms.

“Have fun!”, Taehyung yelled across the bar as they started up the stairs

“Don’t come back too fast!”, Jimin called after him. Jungkook just gives both of them dirty looks.

As they walked all the way to the end of the, surprisingly nice looking, hallway all that could be heard was the sound of sex. Loud moans of pleasure from women who didn’t care if anyone heard. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t getting a little aroused.

“Right in here, honey.” Rosé says as she opens the door to a room that smells faintly of vanilla. The room contents are sparse. Just a large bed, a wooden chair and a small table. Jungkook follows as she pulls him to the soft looking bed. “Go ahead and lay down for me.”

He follows orders as she gets on the bed and slowly starts running a hand down his chest to right above his belt buckle then back up again. She could feel him tense up. “It’s ok baby, I know you’re nervous but you don’t need to be. I know it’s your first time. I’ll be gentle I promise.”

Jungkook chokes on a breath when he feels her hand on the growing length between his legs. She smiles at his reaction “See you have nothing to worry about. Just relax and let me take care of you.”, she says gently squeezing him causing Jungkook to involuntary buck up into her hand.

As Rosé starts working on getting his belt undone Jungkook closes his eyes and thinks back to the pretty school teacher. That makes his dick twitch in his pants. Then he suddenly realizes where he is and what’s happening. “I-I-I’m sorry but I can’t do this” he says as he grabs Rosé’s wrist.

“What’s the matter? Are you not comfortable? We can try something else.”

Jungkook stands up and redoes his belt. “No, that’s not it. I just...” he pauses embarrassed “I just didn’t want it to happen this way.”

She looks at him as she puts two and two together. “They’re making you do this, huh.” He just nods “That’s alright Hun, I’m not in the business of forcing anyone to do what they don’t want to. Although, I was really looking forward to you being inside me” she pouts as Jungkook’s face turns even redder “I’ll cut you a deal. If you ever change your mind in the future I won’t charge you.”

“Thank you”, Jungkook says visibly relieved.

Jungkook got up and adjusted himself before walking out the door. His nose is once again filled with the smell of smoke and alcohol as opposed to the sweet vanilla of Rosé’s room. He makes his way through the small crowd of rowdy drunk men. He looked toward the bar to see if Jimin and Taehyung were still there. When he couldn’t see them he went for the door. Once outside in the fresh air he sighed, going to where their hoses were.

“Hey, Dolly”, the horse as dark as coal snorted at him and bumped her nose against his hand. Beside her a light grey stallion tosses his head and whinnies at Jungkook trying to get his attention. “Aish, I see you Silver no need to have a fit.”

Before he can give the fussy horse some attention Jungkook caught the sound of school children running along the street. He perked up as he saw the woman walking along with some of the children making sure they don’t get trampled by wagons as they travel in the street. Her y/h/c hair was done up nicely and her light blue dress flowed as she held the hand of a little girl.

The woman must have felt him staring because she looked to where Jungkook was, making eye contact with him. Jungkook reacted by ducking out of sight.

What he didn’t see was the woman chuckle to her self as she was pulled away by the impatient children.

Once out of sight he took some deep breaths and touched his face face trying to calm down. He couldn’t understand why he was feeling this way. He’s seen beautiful women before but he’s never felt much towards them. Even when they practically throw themselves at his feet. What made her so special?

Jin hyung loves to talk about love at first sight but Jungkook always tunes him out when he gets worked up about the subject. Now he’s thinking Jin might be onto something.

About twenty minutes later Jimin and Taehyung come through the swinging saloon doors with huge smiles. Taehyung wrestles Jungkook into a headlock knocking his hat off and messing up his hair.

“Aww, my little Jungkookie is a man now”, Taehyung says as he lets Jungkook go, pretending to wipe away a tear. while Jungkook scowls at him brushing the dirt off his hat.

“So how was it?”, Jimin asks as he unties the knot he tied Silver’s reins into.

“It was ok”, Jungkook says trying to avoid Jimin’s eyes. “Just ok?”, Taehyung asks in disbelief.

“I-I mean great! Amazing! I wish I would have done that sooner” Jungkook said laughing nervously.

“Right?! There’s nothing better than good pussy!”, Taehyung exclaims a little too loud earning them some glares from the ladies across the street. Jimin just gives Jungkook a look like he’s trying to see through his lie.

Jungkook deflects by hastily getting on his horse, “Are you guys ready? I want to go home.”

“Oh, you think you call the shots now? Kids these days have no respect”, Taehyung says dramatically.

“Hurry up”, Jungkook answers back.

The three men head out to back to the cattle ranch from which they came. On the way out Jungkook looks towards the old school building trying to catch a glimpse of the woman who has held his attention all day. Of course he knew she wouldn’t be there but he still feels disappointed.

Jungkook doesn’t fully understand what he’s feeling but one thing he knows for sure. He’s going to try to come to town as much as he can.

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 4 years

Text

Shattered Reflections {17}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 16. Oh Brothers

17. Never Again

Hans knew it was ill-advised-- because everyone told him so. Still, he was a determined man, and doubly determined to make sure that he made himself useful. So after a few weeks and Hans could pick up his sword from the bureau, he had someone fetch him a cane, and walked out of his room escorted by Captain Kristofferson, to meet the guards they had wrangled up.

"Gentlemen," He announced, as he arrived, setting down a stack of papers he had brought with him. "I am Hans, and I have had many titles. Prince of the Southern Isles, Admiral of the same, treasonist, prisoner, fool, and advisor; I'm sure I'm missing a few. To you I am 'trainer' or 'teacher'. I'm here to ensure that people like me can't get past people like you again, so we don't have another raid like what happened a few weeks past. When I'm back in form after having been stabbed in the recent raid, I'll teach you all how to run to catch those who would flee, to fight those who would attack, and to stamp out any cowardice or fear of pain you have. At the end of training we will all have bruises, we will all want a heavy drink, and some of you may hate me, but you'll be a good set of guards in the end."

"Some of you were thwarted by a snow-child specifically meant to be kept out of a room you were guarding, and others had no problem letting a prince from another country casually take control of a kingdom. I had better not see abject failure to perform your duties like that again. That you now have a treasoner standing before you telling you how to do your damned jobs is a disgrace, and you need to be aware of that." He paused, looking over the guard staff, standing tall and speaking with the authority of the Commander of the Navy that he had once been.

"So, it's a very good thing that we're wiping that slate clean." He gestured to brush his hands off, leaning on his cane as he did. "From here on out, your motto is 'never again and never before'. You will never let that happen again, and it never happened. When you get hit in sparring, it has never happened before and it will never happen again. When you fail to complete physical training, it has never happened before and it will never happen again. When you fail, it will be a unique experience and you will learn from it or by god I will make you learn from it. You are here to guard the Queen of Arendelle, not to protect a sweet-shop in the market square from children. If you don't have an excuse from the doctor, you will train daily. If you aren't mourning a family loss or having a baby, you will be at work, and if you make a mistake you will own up to it and you will deal with the consequences like a man, and carry on with life as normal. And if we're all good at what we do, and we're all alive and well, we might even have a bit of fun with it. I've never been a man of the lash, I've always been more for drinking with the men, but I will bring it back if I have to. Now, everyone, pick up a paper and a pencil. I need to know where you're all at. I'll never have anyone do anything I wouldn't do, once my wound is fully healed I'll train right alongside the rest of you, and I'll challenge you to best me at every step. For now, let's get to know you and your experience." Hans was, and it was easy to forget, a military man. He knew how to command men and how to motivate them, both positively and negatively.

The papers asked a number of questions. Name, Age, rank, years of experience; but it also included questions about travel, how many languages one spoke, personal hobbies; strengths and weaknesses, that sort of thing. Some things were intellectual questions about math or logic, some were morality questions. It was a strange hodgepodge of all sorts of questions, almost at random. ~~*~~

The majority guard consisted of men from their late teens/early twenties to mid-forties. There were a few outliers of course, but it's seemed like an accurate representation. The age differences seemed to split the men into two categories: the seasoned members that had been serving since before the Coronation and the new recruits who started serving after, many of them joining recently after the raid. So there were a lot of old dogs and new blood in the mix. There had been some murmurs among the men. Mostly among the new cadets, as well as some of the stubborn old men. A lot of them had been taken aback, when they found out the infamous Hans of the Southern Isles would be their training teacher. The newest recruits had only heard rumors of the Prince's return to Arendelle, they had not witnessed him taking charge during the raid nor understood why he was no longer a prisoner. Even if they were supposedly wiping the slate clean and having a fresh start, there was still some notable doubt among them, yet none of them spoke up to voice their concerns. They did as they were told and picked up a paper and pencil, at least they were good at following orders.

Hans adjusted himself to sit on the desk a while, to give them all time to work.

"When you're done, turn in your papers up front. If for whatever reason you can't complete a question, come to me and ask. I'm a bit of a bastard, yes, but I'll never tease you for an affliction like not knowing a word or not knowing how to read entirely. Indeed, if any of you know anyone who can't hear and needs a job, bring them here. Deaf people are oft good guards, and unfortunately overlooked. Hell, a few particularly ambitious women wouldn't hurt the guard staff either. We're a bit short staffed, by the look of things." He looked among the room. It was packed tight, but the room was already fairly small for the kingdom's guard staff. "Perhaps things are done differently in the Isles, but I don't understand how a kingdom can exist so readily with so few guards. I suppose I should be glad we lasted as long as we did, during the raid. It isn't the fault of any one man, nor even the group of you, I suppose. I cannot fault a fisherman for not catching fish, if none taught him how. At any rate, this is not a graded test."

He waited patiently until the tests were turned in, then stood up again. He moved more slowly, but hid how much pain he was in. "I'll look at these tests a bit later. If you have concerns, feel free to bring them to me privately, I'm sure you know where I'm staying." He offered, leaning heavily on his cane. "Now that that's done, let's clear the air a bit. You all have questions, I can see. I have answers, and I'm not opposed to giving them. Go ahead and ask, I can't do much physical training with you yet, after my own injuries, but I can train your minds, and I've precious little else to do while I'm healing. So, give me your best shot. Ask your questions, 'what did this son of a bitch do to deserve this job'?" He was still a sailor, and there were no royals around. He could curse if he damned well pleased. He waited to see who had questions to ask.

It was rather quiet, with only a few hushed voices murmuring among each other. It seemed no one would be brave enough to question Hans, then all of a sudden the silence was broken.

"What did you do?" one of the new recruits boldly asked. Surprised, everyone turned to look at the young man. "'Cause last most of us have heard, you were the traitor of Arendelle, tryin' to take over the throne." There were gasps at the cadet's audacity to ask. Even with all the eyes on him the boy stood tall and not sheepish about what he'd just asked. Hans had offered after all, everyone was thinking it, so why not dare to ask to get the answers they wanted?

Hans chuckled a little. "Brave boy, I'll teach you how to lead. It takes guts to ask those questions before others, guts that leaders need and followers need to learn to use." He observed. "I was the traitor, yes. I had my reasons, reasons I'm sure I'll tell you all about at some point, but rest assured they weren't very good. I came back to tell my side of the story and make amends. For more reasons, I was in the castle at the time of the raid. Because the castle rooms aren't built as a prison cell, the doors were left unlocked and guards left, under the assumption that they would be able to stop me if I tried to leave. I won't postulate about whether or not that's a correct assumption, but I never tried the door until I heard the sound change in the hall, and the guards understandably gone. Then I went searching for a sword, to help fend off the attackers. By the time I got to the Queen's side, even Captain Kristofferson was down, so the Queen and I held off much of the attack until Anna's boyfriend -Lord Kristoff, I believe?- came in with bow and arrows. The fight wasn't fun, but we managed against nigh impossible odds. I got stabbed in the process and caught a pommel to the face, the Queen got a slight scratch to her face and an injured arm." He explained. "As it turns out, the pommel truly is the way to 'end them rightly'." That was a very niche and obscure joke he didn't expect a single one of them to understand. As if to illustrate his point regarding wounds, he raised the hem of his shirt so they could see the unpleasant wound to his side, stitches gone, but the wound still red and warped. "It's not my first, nor my last scar, in battle or otherwise, and I was already healing from the lashes one gets for being a traitor in the navy, if you'd like to see those scars, too." He gestured to his back, but didn't show them immediately. He looked more amused than bothered. "Does that answer your question? I'm afraid I do love to ramble, feel free to ask more."

"Yes, sir." The young man answered with a nod. There was a brief silence yet again.

"Question," someone else spoke up. This time it was one of the older men. "About the paper we just filled out. The questions made sense, for the most part, but some of them seemed rather arbitrary, for example asking about our personal hobbies. I don't understand how exactly knowing that information has anything to do with training?"

Hans smiled a bit and shrugged. "Whom do you send to learn tactics for battle-- the man who prefers swordplay, or the man who prefers games of skill? The answer is games, for tactics are just strategy games with a risk. Who do you send to battle, the gambler or the logician? The gambler, because he understands chance. Westergaard ways are old ways, I prepare for sieges and swordplay, as well as modern diplomacy. Does anyone know why Deaf guards are so very useful?" He asked, and glanced between them, to see if there would be answers. "A Deaf man on a ship cannot be fazed by cannon fire around him, a Deaf guard in a castle chamber cannot spill secrets. Every man has his use and every hobby has its useful applications, if only we can find them. We in Arendelle have the unique experience of living in an era under which ice is our greatest tactical advantage, so if any of you happen to enjoy ice-skating-- you'll be the finest swordsmen we'll have by the time I'm through with you. If you have good aim, archers. If you favor brute strength, zweihanders and door-breakers, if you prefer to run, we'll have ammunition runners and recovery men. Everyone will have their uses and be able to be dispatched at notice. I will get to know your names and your stories over time, as will Captain Kristofferson, so we will know where to send you at a moment's notice when you're needed. We'll see who's the best not by bragging, but by practice, and everyone here will be the best in the squad at something." He paused, and rolled his neck, to pop it and let the silence hang a moment. "Every man has his use. Does anyone know why a cat is a necessary crewman at sea?" He waited patiently, to see if anyone would answer.

"Vermin," answered one of the men. "To keep rats from eating everything," added another. "They've got nine lives," one remarked more humorously.

Hans laughed. "Yes I am, but what about the cat?" He joked dryly. "For the mice, precisely, but their luck doesn't hurt either! If the ships had mice, the mice would eat the food, and the men would have no food to eat. Thus, we would have a dead crew and a dead ship, all for the lack of one hungry cat. Who among you will be our hungry cat? Someone will be the lynchpin of success, and it could be for any reason, in any event. Who will be Fletcher, the young man in the crow's nest who could point out pirates in a fog too thick to see the fore from the aft? Who will be the cannoneer Grym, with perfect aim? There is a niche for each of you to fill, in order to make a perfect crew, and without the right ones, we may fall. So, I will find you your niche, if you don't find it for yourself." He assured, already getting excited about the prospect. "And as soon as this damned wound heals, we are going to have ourselves a hunt." He rubbed his hands together, already excited at the prospect. "For now... who wants to try some sword fighting? I'm reasonably confident I can take any one of you injured, and I'd like to see you bastards prove me wrong." He grinned playfully, clearly just trying to get them in the spirit of the game, and get them geared up to beat him at sword fighting.

The men's laughter rumbled throughout the room. Hans had managed to boost the troops' morale to start their training and him opening up for questions had seemed to ease some of their doubts.

"I'd gladly oblige to your challenge Westergaard, just to try to prove you wrong, I like seemingly impossible odds. Though it's highly likely you're still able to kick my hind, even in your current condition, I don't think the Queen would be to thrilled if she found out I returned you more scratched up than you are now, that is if I managed to surprise even myself by beating you," chuckled Captain Kristofferson. "I'll also take you up on your offer, for real, once you're in peak condition, even if that means the odds are against me. It'll hurt my pride to lose, even if it's just in practice and 'it never happened', but if it helps me improve myself in any way to better protect Arendelle I'll do it in a heartbeat. I hope you're all committed to do the same." He declared, taking the lead trying to set the example to his men as is to be expected of a Captain.

Hans rubbed his hands together. "Excellent, let's show the men a good sporting game, shall we? Out to the yards then, tell me you've got some good practice swords? I expect to have to order you all a whole new armory, but practice swords should absolutely be standard. I don't know whether I'll be more disappointed if they're falling to pieces, or if they're new." He warned. He still leaned on his cane somewhat as he moved. "Luckily my injury isn't on my sword-arm side. You might stand a chance if I had to operate left-handed." He teased. In spite of the cane, he moved quickly enough. He moved out to the practice yard, and claimed himself a practice sword closer to a navy cutlass than his own bastard sword, with a few practice swings. "This'll do." He then went about checking the space to clear it out, and used the point of it to hack a few rings into the space.

"Who was present during the raid?" He asked, when he was done, moving himself to the center of the rings he had made. "Who, if any among you, recalls what direction I shouted as I passed by to find the Queen? What advice did I give? And, why am I asking?" He loved to challenge them with questions, in between making them laugh. He was glad to see they had a sense of humor about them. That was more or less how he led ships, too.

There were various voices that answered:

"Press in!"

"Repel them back!"

"Hold the line!"

As Hans was having a teaching moment, the Captain was choosing his sword, he decided to go with a standard arming sword.

Hans clasped his hands over his wooden sword-hilt and looked so proud.

"My god, you actually listened." He seemed genuinely touched at the idea. He took a moment, then cleared his throat a little. "Now, today we're going to see what I mean by that. We can all see where I'm starting, yes? Bulls-eye." He gestured down, standing in the middle of the field.

"Captain, drive me as far from this point as you can, and I'll try to defend without moving from the bulls-eye. Then we'll switch, and see who can press the other back furthest. You know the rules, only thieves try to hit family jewels, ey? And I'd like my head as un-cracked as possible while I'm still recovering from my two recent near-death experiences. Otherwise, do your damnedest, or I'll never stop giving you shit about it." He flourished with his wooden blade a little, and readied himself. The Hans who trained men was certainly a different man from the Prince Hans who was all 'Your Majesty's and 'Good Sir's. He suspected this Hans was the one the men would learn from best.

"I won't go easy on you just because your wounded Westergaard, I know you won't hold back either, and I'm quite aware I'll never hear the end of it if I don't give it my all," affirmed the Captain with a nod, holding his sword with both hands in the ready position. Once he saw Hans was ready he charged him with all his might.

"Good, because you'll never hear the end of it when you lose to a wounded man, either." Hans teased. He proved to be an agile fighter, in spite of his cane, which he seemed to have forgotten about, fallen to the ground. He defended and parried skillfully, using short thrusts and sharp raps about the shins to force the Captain to back up as best he could, stepping to one side or ducking or even turning -into- attacks to avoid being forced back. He didn't hit hard, because that wasn't the purpose; nor did he aim to disarm, because that would've gone against the point. He simply aimed to hold his ground. While injured, of course, this was no easy task. Being limited to a circle was a difficult business, and this was certainly the challenged position to begin in. He was forced back once or twice by attacks to his weak side, which he was forced to defend more carefully against, but he regained his position by stepping in close and aiming for weak parts of the abdomen, or careful strikes near the neck. He said he wouldn't attack the head, but he'd never said anything about the throat. He was all business during the fight, perhaps entirely because he had to be, as he was recovering. He kept his free hand over his wound, to protect it from getting any worse, but he never flinched from a blow, even if it did make one of his many injuries hurt.

"I think we've quite made our point, Captain? We never did specify an endgame, my fool mistake, but if I reopen any of my wounds, my doctor may simply stitch me up with a burlap like a sack-doll, so I ought to be careful." He chuckled a little, clearly wearing a little, himself. He would be the first to admit that he wasn't in full form, and he doubted the Captain was, either. They had proved the point, that was the necessity. The battle was short, but illustrative. "Shall we switch?"

" Of course," agreed the Captain. "Wouldn't want to get an earful from the doctor and much less displease her Majesty by being the one responsible in completing your transformation from man to hessian." They switched places, and the Captain was trying to prepare himself for Hans swordsmanship as the one charging, he knew the younger man was far more experienced in swordplay than he and the only he could really do was try to stand his ground as best he could for as long as he could manage.

"I'm tempted to say you think far too much of her Majesty's opinion of me." Hans pointed out. The first time he said it, it was an amusing aside. Now he was beginning to wonder what exactly their reputation in the castle was. "You're not implying anything, are you? About Her Majesty or I?" He seemed genuinely thrown by that idea. It took him a moment to think about that, before he began his assault. He started easy, throwing a few attacks, defending a few others. Then as he got back into the rhythm, he took his own message-- Press in. He stepped into the Captain's personal space, ignoring the lines, shoving the other's sword away to get as close as humanly possible. He was also not above throwing in an elbow or a knee. Swordsmanship was one thing, but in close combat, a dagger was more useful, and an elbow would do in the meanwhile. Again, he didn't do it painfully, he was illustrating a point. His goal was not to hurt the Captain, nor to disarm him, but simply to push him out. That was the advice that he gave to the Arendelle guards-- push forward.

"Not at all, I'm not implying anything," the Captain retorted, stern shake of the head. "Just indicating the Queen's compassion, and that it wouldn't look good on my behalf as her Guard's Captain if I mistreat an already injured man." The Captain was just calling it like he saw it, Elsa clearly cared about the Prince's well-being that was undeniable, he wasn't insinuating anything about their relationship, he would never presumptuously speak ill of the Queen.

The Captain had not expected Hans to get up so close and personal in his combat, he was finding it quite difficult to continue to roll with the punches. Hans was good at using him as a dummy to demonstrate the tactic.

"Oh good, I might've been a little thrown, then." Hans teased gently, sounding much less bothered now. "My brother Eduard was always much better at this tactic," He admitted, even slipping past the Captain, only to turn and hook his throat with an arm. Harmless, no blade contact, but enough to halt the defense. "But he was good at getting into men's personal spaces for much different reasons." He let the insinuation be playfully scandalous for the men to ponder over. He twisted to kick the Captain's leg out from under him and bring them both down-- though Hans came down on his knee, and grunted a bit as his wound moved painfully. "Ah, and there's where my doctor yells at me." He huffed, cringing at the pain he inflicted upon himself. The landing for the Captain would have been softer, all on the grass, nothing contorted or twisted, just uncomfortable.

"Alright then, well done, Captain." He stood back up, though struggling a little with his wound, and offered a hand to help the other up just the same. "Now then, lessons: See how far we moved?" He gestured down at the ground. "I gave the Captain no choice but to retreat, by getting into his personal space. It limited my opportunities, but I am familiar with one of my favorite rules of swordplay: Swords alone are for duels. Wars are won by teeth and pommels, sand in the eyes and dirty tricks. Use your elbows, use your knees, use your god-given wits before you lose them. Hell, use your head if you fancy it's hard enough. Watch your environment, know your opponent. Are they chatty? Wounded? Favoring their left? Do they excel at power or balance? Lord, I think I'm done with demonstrations for the afternoon." He laughed somewhat painfully and used his sword to pick up his cane, to use that. "Don't let me catch any of you using a sword as a cane either, wood or no. Else I'll teach you what a sword is for the way we do in the Isles." He huffed a little, leaning on it. He really needed to be more cautious.

The Captain took his hand and stood up quickly, not wanting to weigh him down. "We might have been a bit too ambitious. How about we --and I mostly mean you-- don't do anymore physical demonstrations ey, Westergaard? At least until you manage to heal that up well enough not to damage it again, lest you wish to keep the injury there indefinitely. I'll handle the physical training myself until you're up to the mark, you shouldn't worry about anything other than writing up guidance or giving out orders before that time comes. Don't worry I'll be as rigorous as you intend to be, can't cut them any slack. Got to give it our all from the set about else they're bound to rout later, once you're finally ready to train them for real. You might be in charge of retraining, but it's still my job to command the troops."

Hans chuckled dryly. "Ah, but it's just not as fun for me." He joked. "A little pain never stopped me from a damn thing, but you are right, her Majesty would be vexed by me hurting myself, so I'd best not do that again for a bit. I wasn't really planning to do that, to be frank I was expecting the written test to take longer." He glanced at the sky to check the time. He didn't exactly have a watch, as a prisoner. "I'm just showing my pains now so you'll keep me honest." Why else would he? Pain was useless to him. "I'll see about writing up some simple physical fitness goals and exercises for you to train them with. I may start borrowing men periodically to speak to them about these tests, get to know a few." He looked over at the men pensively.

"So then, that, my dear boys, is what we call a Pyrrhic victory, something I'm quite prone to. Is a win still a win when you've lost as much as you've gained? That's a philosophical subject for you to decide. For me, as long as whatever I do improves the chances of her Majesty surviving another raid, I'll take my pains and be glad about it. Pain just means I'm still alive enough to suffer it, but maybe that's just a philosophy one gets with twelve older brothers. So, what do we think of me? Hm? Am I good enough to train her Majesty's guards after my wound is properly healed?" He wanted to see, was the murmuring and skepticism still there? Had he won them over? Or were there yet holdouts who hated him? They were the ones he wanted to speak with first and longest.

The men all silently looked at once another for a moment. Then some voices started to spark from the crowd.

"Yeah!"

"For Arendelle!"

The voices all got louder and echoed among the men, they all seemed rather animated, cheering and raising their fists in a sign of support, if there were still any embittered people among them they surely didn't seem to stand out anymore.

Hans seemed, not just surprised, but genuinely touched. In a way, it was bittersweet. They believed him so readily, they genuinely thought he wanted to help Arendelle. And, he did. But god, how did they believe it? What had he done to deserve that same loyalty that he got from his crew.

He fixed his usual confident look to his face, with a wry smile. "Excellent. Keep that spirit, men. And do come to visit me if you want to talk about anything. God knows I'm bored, healing. I'll take these papers, and leave you to it, returning to my... room?" He looked at the Captain, almost raising an eyebrow. "I'll be perfectly honest... I'm still not used to not calling it a cell." Did that say more about him, or what he was used to?

"Anyway, I should be off, before I do some other demonstration and accidentally kill myself." He laughed dryly. In truth, he was leaving so he could get to his room and try not to cry again, this time with, what, relief? It was a good feeling, whatever it was. Bittersweet.

#Helsa #Iceburns #Hans x Elsa #Frozen #Fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #fanfic #Shattered Reflections

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thingsdoingstuff · 4 years

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Justice is Overrated

So, after taking a good look at the world and thinking that I somehow have everything solved as every other entitled millennial my age has, I have decided to start a blog. Though I am quite obviously the first and only person to do this to date, it’s probably worth mentioning that I’m not coming onto this website (universally known as the wine stain of pretentious liberal soy-boys that miraculously share the exact same opinion on everything even remotely political whining about how hard it it is to be privileged or not privileged) to be yet another preachy loyalist trying to convert people to my new branch of self-actualization.

So, please allow me to extend an olive branch in the form of my most flattering of disclaimers:

This is for me to share my opinions and start a gentlemen’s discussion. Whether you happen to be a gentleman, a lady, transgender, gay, bisexual, lesbian, African America, Native American, Asian, African, Persian, “The One Percent,” a cop, identify as a dog, named “Gordon,” or have sixteen toes makes no lick of difference to me unless it is valid to the conversation at hand (so do feel free to pitch in so long as it doesn’t get personal ‘lest I shall ignore thee). Your opinion is still valid and should always be valid in just about any community as most of the things we do as humans create a little discrepancy called “morality” in which we are entitled to believe anything is wrong so long as we can agree to disagree and by the end of the day we haven’t wrung each other’s necks. All that having been said barring mentioning the fact that I respected your opinion until you wrote it using the stiff end of your raging hate boner and still will so long as you put it back in your pants. Furthermore, as these are my opinions, I am automatically wrong and will be regarded as such by about three thousand people by the time I have finished typing any given sentence. Feel free to gloat as much as you like so long as you don’t step on anyone’s toes and that includes the white ones, since last I checked all races and creeds were granted immunity and there wasn’t an asterisk at the end.

All good and caught up? Excellent! So what’s getting people pissed off recently... Well, everything really, so the proverbial “Shit that hits the fan” most recently would be the people making posts about the five-year-old child that got murdered on his front lawn and using that as a political tool to tell everyone that Black Lives Matter is a false organization and that there are unjustified murders in every untidy hole of civilization. I’m not sure what’s scummier, implying that African Americans have no right to complain about being unjustly killed by a group of people with near immunity to any form of punishment or just posthumously dragging a five-year-old into a political issue of which he never wished to be a part, because he’s five.

If I were to take a truly neutral stance and see things from the perspective of both political parties (of which I am a fan of neither) I would also point out that the left responded by slamming the “Five-Year-Old” bandwagon by saying that the cops can get away with their murders, leaving a trail of weeping families in their wreckage to mourn without closure. Having seen both sides seemingly standing on either side of a pond with mouths wide open angrily snarling at each other like two sparring hippos, I am compelled to ask the most “Jesus-y” question:

“Why must there be justice?”

Don’t get me wrong, if somebody sneaks up behind me and tries to slit my throat, I’ll happily unhinge his or her (I’m not biased, any gender can be a serial killer these days) skull and remove whatever tendons are keeping that blade in check, but what if the little monster actually succeeds? Do I now have some obligation to their life and how it’s spent?

If true justice is to be preformed, that sucker gets put away for many years and my family just gets to say, “Oh, great, now that they’re behind bars, it’s as if we have our daughter/son/brother/sister back.” But is anybody truly happy after they’ve lost something close to them and the only recompense is that “Justice happened”? So if I’m ever murdered, I want just one damn thing. I want it to have done SOMETHING!

My High school math teacher who for the sake of hiding his identity, we’ll call: Mister Dank Engine (If you knew him, you’d think that’s hilarious) once told us a story.

“I once knew a guy that had killed somebody. Every time he heard sirens coming, he’d hide under his desk and he was always on his best behavior because he was always afraid the police would find out it was him.”

So, aside from the fact that “killed somebody” leaves ambiguity as to whether the guy meant to do so, can’t we assume that any other living killer is paying it off in their lifetime without violence? Not to say that they get way, but that they continued contributing to society instead of blowing my hard-earned tax dollars rotting in a cell. I’d prefer to believe that anybody can get a second chance at life and use it to do good by me like “Boo Radley” from To Kill a Mockingbird. I’d much rather know that any asshole with half the grit to saw my head off sorrowfully moved on and somehow turned my memory into an empire of free cookie baskets than that he or she got the lethal injection. How does killing someone else put the good they took out of the world back into it?

Now, that’s not to say that any firm shit with half a mind to do terrible things like killing children and innocent, unarmed black women will go on to do anything great with their lives besides witnessing their own demise, but with that in mind, does it truly matter who gets justice if the family gets nothing? If so, where has all the good in world gone once we’ve locked everyone else up and how do we get it back?

My general opinion on all political matters is that both the left and the right will not do jack about shit, because they’re truly way too busy thrashing each others ears to get any work done, meaning every debate is just two sides of the same penny, both have beauty and are delicately crafted, but at the end of the day, it’s a worthless corrosive penny with years of stains that have most certainly been in some filthy places and have outworn their usefulness years ago. So, in the very least, a legitimate debate can’t possibly do any harm to our society, because our beloved politicians aren’t changing anything no matter what we decide, so good for us. At the very worst though, we can cram our opinions down each others throats as if to face-fuck each other into joining our little cults until years later, we realize no one’s mind was ever changed because you hated them so much that they respected your outlook.

As a side-note, if I’m ever murdered by a cop, please don’t shut down an entire occupation. The last thing I want to be associated with is: “That one time, we stopped generalizing a race and started generalizing a practice.”

Yours truly, Jesus Fucking Christ.

PS. I sure hope you liked the disclaimer, because It’ll be in every blog post, because I don’t want any newbies not understanding or anyone reading right now to forget.

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blindrapture · 4 years

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The Structure of Ulysses, plus Sonic, Part I

Ulysses is a big book. And I intend on adapting all of it at some point into a series I call Sonic Hamlet, where everyone is played by video game characters. I’m not going to explain why video game characters just yet, you’ve got to just accept them for now.

So far, I have not made much progress with the actual adaptation (I have the first third of the first episode done and on YouTube, click here for it). However, I have made progress in rereading and understanding Ulysses, I’ve made far more progress than I honestly thought I was capable of. And I think I might be ready to at least outline some things. I believe strongly that Ulysses will be of interest to many people alive today, and I do not accept language as a valid barrier to comprehension, only a temporary obstacle. But the onus is on those of us who have read Ulysses, we have to be the ones to clear those obstacles away, we cannot just expect people to read it, we have to help because those obstacles are very much there! Ulysses was hard to read even at its time, but there’s a difference between an intentional challenge and the changing of parlance over time. And the intentional challenge? Is wonderful. It in fact helps us embrace life, the big and the little things in it, the complicated cycles that overwhelm, the fast-paced sarcastic comedy of young people, the slow-paced enigmatic wit of those so ancient they perished long ago, the clash of cultures suggesting inevitable conflict and yet still hiding pathways to real diverse peace.

As an adaptation, my work is a sort of translation, this has to be. I don’t want to change any of the words, though-- Ulysses has a structure to it, a mathematical and logical and literary structure, and the specific words are a part of that. Translations into other languages, those naturally must deal with changing the words, but they try their best to still stick within the plan of the original’s intent. The only language I’m translating into is the extratextual-- I’m adding images, sounds, pauses for reflection. I’m realizing an interpretation of the original text, in the hopes that my audience might have a better foothold for comfortably examining and interpreting Ulysses themselves. The original words can still fit in that context. But character names? Sure. I can accept changing those.

So. So. Sonic Hamlet. As Ulysses is a book, so Sonic Hamlet is a show. As Ulysses is of three main parts with various Episodes in each, so Sonic Hamlet is of three seasons with various Episodes. Following me?

Part I, my Season 1, has three episodes. It is sometimes called the Telemachiad, as it deals with the Telemachus of the story, Stephen Dedalus (hereby Sonic Dedalus), as he goes through the motions of an increasingly despondent life without a trustworthy guide.

Part II, my Season 2, has twelve episodes. It is sometimes called the Odyssey, or the Wanderings of Ulysses, as it deals with the Odysseus of the story, Leopold Bloom (hereby Mario Bloom), as he navigates the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in hopes of returning home victorious.

Part III, my Season 3, has three episodes. It is sometimes called the Nostos, or the Homecoming, as it deals our Odysseus’s bold return and the stratagems which fell the suitors of his wife, Marion “Molly” Bloom (hereby Peach Bloom).

I will, for now, compose three posts, one for each Season. I will not point out all the coolest shit, all the patterns and correspondences, but I will give a general outline as best I can. Maybe this outline, alone, will give all the help a reader needs to “get” the premise of Ulysses and thus be able to read the original. But ultimately I write this not for any reader but for my own benefit. I need to organize and consolidate some things, see. And I’d may as well start somewhere.

So. Here we go.

Part I / Season 1: The Telemachiad (8 AM - Noon)

Episode 1 / 101: Telemachus

Sonic Dedalus is 22 years old. His mother died last year, putting a damper on his aspirations of travelling other countries and becoming a poet. Now he’s contributing rent money to a buddy’s cultural project (”let’s rent out an old watchtower and turn Ireland into Ancient Greece,” that’s about as thought-out as the plan became). His buddy, Big Mulligan, doesn’t seem to have much respect for Sonic, just an incessantly jovial tolerance. Staying with them is Shadow Haines, an Englishman with a gun who wants to write a book of all the quirky folk-sayings of the primitive rural Irish. Big thinks Sonic could contribute a lot to that. Everyone seems to like Big and Shadow; their conspicuous and confident personalities shine above the material worries of the Dublin lower-class. The lady who delivers milk for their breakfast that morning (played by Tikal) listens to Shadow with reverence and doesn’t even seem to notice Sonic, who pays for the breakfast and sees Ireland’s spirit in her. That morning, Big gets Sonic to promise him a sizable chunk of Sonic’s salary will go towards getting them all drunk later. He also gets the key to the tower from him, for some reason. And he gets naked and goes for a swim, as Sonic walks off to do his day’s work.

Episode 2 / 102: Nestor

Sonic works as a temporary teacher at a nearby school. Today, he teaches his class about the historical battle at Asculum, where Pyrrhus gave his famous quote (”another victory like that, and we’re done for”). They’re not terribly interested, since today’s hockey day and they want to play outside, but that’s okay, Sonic’s mind isn’t really focused today either. He’s got some themes battling in his head, and they won’t go away. Though they don’t stop him from at least giving the kids a strange riddle and helping a poor kid with his math homework. And the kids all play hockey. This episode takes its name from an old boastful king, whose advice keeps young Telemachus going (waiting for his father’s return from the war), but also whose company is a bit much in long bursts. Here, Nestor is played by the headmaster of the school (whose video game character I have not assigned), Mr. Deasy. Deasy is a West Briton, the type of Irishman who thinks he’s English and thinks Ireland is just the westernmost province of England. So, probably a Protestant. I really don’t remember right this minute. But in practice, it means Deasy talks down on a lot of people all while thinking he’s being a nice old man. He has money, he keeps his money, he says this is a very English thing to do, and he judges all those who can’t pay their way. He loves history, sees it as one steady march towards the real manifestation of God, and he thinks Sonic unhappy for his view that history is “a nightmare from which I am trying to wake.” But he at least pays him, his salary and some decency. And, knowing Sonic has some “literary contacts,” he gives him a letter to deliver to the newspapers, a letter proposing a solution to foot-and-mouth disease (this will come up later). And as Sonic leaves the school for the day, Deasy hails him down to say one last thing: a jovial bit of earnest antisemitism. “You know why Ireland is one of the only countries that never persecuted the jews?” “Why?” “She never let them in!” And he laughs, the light of the sun dancing coins on his shoulders.

Episode 3 / 103: Proteus

It is now 11 AM. Sonic, after leaving the school, walked all the way to Dublin proper. Here he is on the Strand, a sort of beach, having some alone time, thinking of many things, many memories (his short stay in Paris as a poet, his interactions with the family of uncle Richie who lives nearby to the Strand, his childhood), many subjects (Greek philosophy, Latin theology, aspirations, self-loathing), the sights he sees (midwives with bags, someone walking a dog, lots of flotsam). Ultimately, there’s a trend of trying to pin down the unpinnable, to put into words the ineluctable modality of the visible, the limits of the diaphane; this clues us into the Odyssean correspondence. Proteus is god of the sea, ever changing shapeshifter, who it is said will grant a wish to anyone who is able to hold him still for long enough. Just as Telemachus, in now understanding some context about his father, waits by the sea and wonders how he-- how anyone-- could successfully return with their wits intact when the gods are so multifaceted and the waters so unpredictable, just as Telemachus watches the sea, so does Sonic watch the morphing world of his senses.

And that’s Part I of Ulysses, and that’s Season 1 of Sonic Hamlet. We will see Sonic again later in the day, we’ll actually see quite a bit of him, but this is the point of departure for the text itself. This whole time, the text has taken Sonic’s psyche, the energy and passion and associations dormant in his thoughts, and infused it with a more novel-like narration of What Actually Happens, altogether producing The Text what readers read. It’s happened relatively slowly, with sparks of surprising creativity manifesting in each episode, the “narrative” doing “weird” “things” “all of a sudden,” and Proteus acts as a sort of climax, allowing Sonic’s psyche the whole spotlight and putting What Actually Happens in the background. I’ve said before that the text “wakes up” over the course of these early episodes, but I now think what really happens is the text holds back in order to allow the reader to wake up, to recognize that the text, the narrative itself, is the narrator, that not even focal characters like Sonic are the source of the viewpoint we see, that.. there’s something more going on. A greater Argument being made. But it will take time to even see the whole argument. And here let me bring up medieval pedagogy regarding the art of syllogism: it has been conventional to view the initial order of cognitive thought as “Subject, Middle, Predicate” (as opposed to any other order of those terms which are all, in fact, valid). This is a big factor behind why we’re taught to view stories as constituting a “beginning, middle, end,” and why we’re taught to give arguments (essays!) in the same structure. It’s all because that’s how Christian theology saw the Greek tool of syllogism should be taught, back in the middle ages. With me so far? Okay, cool. So Ulysses is made up of three main parts. There’s a lot of reasons why given episodes are strictly in one part and not others, but perhaps one of the most aesthetically pleasing bits of trivia is that Part I begins with the letter S, Part II begins with the letter M, and Part III begins with the letter P. Subject, Middle, Predicate. A valid structure for a formal argument. Season 1 of Sonic Hamlet, in following Ulysses as far as I feasibly am able to, gives us the thematic subject of a greater argument being made. And that makes Season 2, or Part II, the bulk of the argument, the middle.

So what goes on, then, in the middle of this grand argument? If Sonic isn’t the point, then who is? If Sonic is Telemachus, then who is Odysseus, the wise father-king-husband-hero coming home from the great war? We can interpret the sea of his voyage as probably being his shifting senses, as per Proteus, so then what are the trials on his sea, the trials on his senses? Who are the gods that he faces, what are the stratagems he comes up with in order to appease and survive?

Well, Joyce was adamant of this: The modern Odysseus in Ireland would have to be of Jewish descent. He would have to be a staunch pacifist. He would have to have a marriage in a questionable state of stability. He would have to be a stick in the mud, a party pooper with an adorably dry sense of humour and a physically average build, a serious and unrelenting cuck, and yet a man with sensible ideas of how to spend money generously and pipe dreams of a socialist nation where love and equality triumph. He would not stand in opposition to the modern bigoted uncaring society, his friends and neighbours, but he would be tasked with changing it all the same.

The modern Odysseus is Leopold Bloom. The modern Odysseus is the prototypical social justice warrior.

And that’s who the bulk of Ulysses is about, that’s the psyche we’ll get to explore, that’s what I’ll post about later on.

#sonic hamlet #in making this post i finally went and made the makeshift pictures for Nestor and Proteus #the images are not necessarily reflective of how the final products will look #it would drive me crazy if i tried to keep them all perfect and consistent #because i've still got to make a lot more of them #the episodic structure is honestly one of my favourite parts of the book? it helps me dig in.#so i do want to emphasize an outline around that structure. making sonic hamlet a 'show' naturally follows from this.

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soulofatiny · 5 years

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No Fear, I’m Here... Ch.2: Fellaz

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genre: enemies to lovers, assassin, & mafia!au

word count: 3.7k

warning: none yet but it is an assassin au...

a|n: ***IMPORTANT PLEASE READ*** For those who have read Ch.1, I’ve made some minor changes. Previously, y/n’s affiliation was YG and the ceo of YG. However, I recently caught up with all the news surrounding the company at the moment, and I do not feel comfortable using his name. Therefore, “YG Banks” will be changed to “ZG” and the Boss’ name “Yang” will be changed to “Zang”. I apologize for this odd change but I just felt it was necessary. Thank you and happy reading!

Ch.3

masterlist

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“Nana! Listen to me! You killed me here on October 24, 2011. You. Killed. Me. You have taken my life and you will take others’ lives and feel no remorse doing it. You don’t feel any emotions and you will not feel any emotions except fear. Fear for your life. You will always and forever fear that someone is out there to take your life instead.”

You jolt awake hyperventilating. Cold sweat soaking the strands of your hair and goosebumps marking your body. You felt bile creeping up your throat and ran to the bathroom for its release. “So much for resting before a job…” This wasn’t anything necessarily new in your life. You’ve had the exact same dream numerous times in the past, never knowing what it meant. All you could see in your dream was always a body covered in blood, the face blurred out and the same voice that keeps telling you the same thing every time…

“You killed me.”

You most likely did.

“Fear for your life.”

You are.

You never knew when exactly you’ll have that dream so it was always either a hit or a miss of a dreamless night whenever you slept. Today, however, was definitely a miss. Actually, it’s been a miss the past couple of weeks and it’s getting to the point where you stay up to avoid that dream... It was definitely a bad idea to try to get some rest before a job...but you were getting desperate.

You groaned looking at the clock that read 7:00 p.m. “How fitting,” you thought. Nana is your codename, translating from the Japanese number, 7. It was assigned to you when you first arrived at ZG, being the 7th to arrive and used a fake name, [y/n] whenever it required you to give a name outside of the organization. Much like what you had to do for Yeosang.

7:03 p.m...You still had some time before you head to Fellaz, so you decided to take a shower. Whether if it’s to cleanse the cold sweat clinging to your body or the limited memories that haunted you, you didn’t know. You just needed to feel some sort of relief either way and not think about what’s going to happen in the next couple of hours. Stripping off your clothing, you stepped into the shower. Immediately feeling your tense shoulders ease upon the contact of the warm water and your mind began to wander back to when you first joined the organization.

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“The 7th one is supposed to arrive today. She finished her phase one training and should be ready for phase two. Eight through ten will be arriving the next day after her.”

“How about one through six?”

“They’re all displaying positive results. After seven through ten adjusts, I believe we’ll be able to go into phase three within the next 3 years.”

ZG nodded, “Then we’ll hold the initiation officially on October 24, 2011. No delays. Do not disappoint me, Mino.” And with that, Mino followed escorted his boss to his chauffeur waiting for him outside. Mino was in charge of running the phase two-training smoothly to ensure that everything will go according to the boss’ initiation program. He bowed deeply as the chauffeur drove his boss away from the facility. As Mino walked back inside, one of the workers notified him of your arrival. “Finally…”

You were told that you’ve graduated from phase one, where trainees were educated until they surpass the advanced level in all subjects of math, language, geography, analytical thinking while simultaneously receiving physical training that consisted various martial arts/combat styles, artillery, and blade training. There were many that started from birth, being raised in the facility nursery and officially start training once they learn how to walk and there were others that begin around toddler age but you couldn’t remember when you’ve started. Despite receiving the training from top tier educators, some simply may not possess the potential to be selected for ZG’s special program and were usually terminated. Which obviously isn’t you because you are currently blindfolded and being transferred via car to the building of phase two. They’ve never let you go beyond the walls that completed the perimeter of your first training building. You’ve heard stories of some trying to risk going beyond the walls and were immediately terminated. You felt the vehicle stop and the door opened with someone grabbing your arm to guide you out. You couldn’t see anything but you could hear at least two different footsteps excluding your own. You all kept on walking for a good while until you all halted and waited until a voice startled you. “Take your blindfold off.” You complied and immediately faced with a man perhaps in his 20’s but what caught your attention was his sharp eyes, almost snake-like and threatening aura that sent your body shivering in anxiousness. “You’re the 7th to arrive. If we wanted to address specifically at you, we’ll refer to you as ‘Nana’. How old are you?” You stood in silence and Mino was about to lose his patience until he remembered why “Speak.”

“I was told that I’m ten-years-old.”

“I see. I expect you to make it until phase three. My workers will guide you to meet your new educator. Do not disappoint me or you will be terminated.”

You immediately bowed deeply and Mino walked away. You looked up and saw the two men now exposed free from your blindfolds who presumably are Mino’s workers. One of the men signaled for you to walk and you complied. The building seemed sterile and the long hallways glistened with the fluorescent lights reflecting the glossy white floors, very much designed like your previous facility. You continued to walk, passing by many doors until the man in front of you stopped and pointed at the door of the room you’ll be residing. Before they both turned to leave you, you bowed deeply to show your acknowledgment. You were taught that you were allowed to bow to anyone in a higher up position than you at any given time, but were not allowed to speak before given permission. The two men nodded and walked away, leaving you to your new training. Until you could no longer see them, you finally knocked on the door. The door opened revealing a woman that had the corners of her mouth turned upwards and caught you off guard. From your previous studies, you’ve learned that this is what people would call a smile but it’s the first time you’ve witnessed one in person, how peculiar. “Hi! You must be Nana! We were expecting you! Come in, come in!” You bowed to indicate your greeting and walked in. The woman’s voice was loud in volume and she was still smiling. It looked painful for her cheeks but she continued, “I’m your head educator of phase two-training! Things will be very different from your phase one-training. First off, while you’re in this building, you do not need to ask for permission to speak. Just follow the basic speech mannerism that you’ve learned from your previous training but do so with your will of speaking.” You waited until she continued to speak but realized that she was waiting for you to speak so you mumbled a small, “Yes.” That was the very first time you spoke without permission and it honestly felt strange in your stomach. The woman stared at you, writing something down on her clipboard and smiled even harder, something you didn’t think was possible. “Perfect! Secondly, here, you will learn about emotions and try to enhance the stimulation of your feelings! I’m sure you must be confused but this is all very exciting and I can’t wait until you meet your family member!”

Confused…? Exciting…? Family…? You were familiar with the vocabulary from your studies but never heard them used in a sentence. Suddenly, the strange feeling in your stomach growing larger. The woman looked at you cautiously, “Ah, I’m sorry. You must be overwhelmed! You feel something in your stomach, don’t you?” You widen your eyes, “Y-yes…how did you know?” “Ah just right now! I just surprised you! You see, human emotions aren’t that hard to stimulate. You just need to understand which emotion is which. But don’t worry. You’ll get used it soon. Also, thank you for speaking first.”

You felt surprised yet once again. You got thanked for speaking… it was peculiar and overwhelming but you could even dare to say that you liked the feeling of tying all of these emotions being put in action. Your new teacher smiled softer until she spoke again, “Now follow me! It’s time to meet your family member! Here, you are assigned to a sibling. You both will play, have meals together, and hold conversations much like families in real life.” She pauses to take a quick look at her clipboard and continued, “Ah yes, your assigned family member is number 3! I see you go by the Japanese translation, but number 3 will be the Korean translation ‘Set’. Set is a male so looks like you have gained a brother!”

You decided to speak up softly, “May I ask a question?” The woman stared at you, wrote something down again, and answered, “Yes, of course!” Looking away from the clipboard but continued to write as you spoke, “Why are different translations used to refer Set and I’s numbers?” “There will actually be ten of you coming to phase two in total, numbers eight through ten will be arriving tomorrow. They will all have different translations for their numbers as well. I know you all learned multiple languages during your phase one training so it will help increase brain activity by mixing in different languages for daily use. At least that is what Boss Zang insisted. Honestly, it doesn’t make much sense to me but we just go with it,” ending her blurb with a wink. “Now, come on! Let’s go meet your brother!”

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You felt the water in your shower turning cold, indicating that it was probably time for you to get out.

Brother…...you had a brother. Set? You couldn’t remember what happened to him…. but now’s not the time to ponder upon it. It’s nearing 8 p.m. so you quickly dry your hair, pulling it up into a high ponytail with two shorter strands of hair framing the sides of your face perfectly. You decided to wear some makeup with a darker shade of eyeshadow that accentuated your eye color more. Opening your wardrobe, you sorted and changed into a short black satin dress and leather jacket, that matched with your heeled black thigh high boots. You open another wardrobe that wasn’t for your clothes but the inside filled with various sorts of weaponry.

It’s a jazz club…it’ll be loud but not loud enough to use a gun. You could always put a silencer on, but it was honestly a hassle to carry. Ultimately, you decided on two shorter blades that laid on your forearms, hidden well by your leather jacket. Although you exceeded in any weapon, you still exceeded with blades a little more. It was easy to carry, silent to kill, and easier to aim with the contact being closer. You didn’t think you would need it but you also decided to wear a thigh holster carrying your pistol, that hid underneath your dress just enough. It’s good to take precautions... You took one last look in the mirror, before heading out. Not too much, yet bold enough to charm people as you walk by. Perfect.

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Your heels clacked as you walked down the dimly lit alleyway, feeling the chilly wind sweep across the sides of your neck and thighs. You stopped, finally reaching to the bright illuminated sign of your destination placed on the wall of the brick building that read, “Fellaz”. The structure of the wall was old, to say the least. The bricks were definitely run down that seemed to be barely clinging to its assigned spot and the two metal doors that was seemingly intimidating in size. You pulled the handle on one of the doors, ignoring the sudden contact with the cold metal on the palm of your hand, and smoothly walked in. The door closed behind you, its heavy weight allowing it to do so automatically. However, instead of entering a room, you were only met with a stairway that led directly downstairs, immediately noticing a surveillance camera planted on the ceiling that was directly facing towards the entrance. Without hesitating, you began to walk down the steps, smelling a faint aroma of coffee and hearing the subtle sounds of brass instruments. Stepping your final step, you were surprised to see a modern chic cafe that contrasted greatly from the outer appearance of the building you saw only a few minutes ago. You examined the interior and were immediately connected with jazz music that came from the four men playing on the center stage at the very back of the room. The right side occupied the drink bar that was attended by a bartender, smalls candles were lit positioned on top of the round dining tables that were placed sporadically across the rest of the remaining area. Yunho was nowhere to be found, but you still had roughly 30 hours left to accomplish your task so there wasn’t any need to worry. You usually gather more information on the beginning portion of your timeframe, taking in the lifestyle they lived in completely, and then finish them accordingly. Which is what you’re about to do as you sat on one of the unoccupied stools at the drink bar counter, the bartender smiling at you as you took your seat. He was handsome, really handsome. His blonde hair that swept over his forehead defined his strong facial features beautifully. “Scotch on the rocks, thank you,” you placed your order as you gave a small charming smile back.

“Ah, you must be new here. I’m sorry, we don’t sell alcohol, just coffee.”

“No alcohol? at a club?”

The bartender chuckled, “Yeah, I know. Strange right? My friend actually opened this place. Something about wanting people to appreciate music to the full capacity while being sober…blah blah blah….but I think it’s just because he’s a lightweight.” You chuckled at the bartender’s straightforward remark over his friend, “Well then, I would like an iced americano, um-“

“Seonghwa. Call me Seonghwa, and one iced americano on the house for?-“

“y/n, thank you.” With that, Seonghwa gave you a quick wink and started working on the espresso machine. Very flirtatious, you noted. It didn’t take long for Seonghwa to hand you your beverage since everyone that was sitting at the bar left to join the dining area. You nodded your head to thank him, getting ready to speak until Seonghwa beat you to it. “So y/n, what’s a charming young lady such as yourself doing at a small unknown jazz club like Fellas,” he asked as he took a sip of his own latte. You took a sip of your own drink before answering, “Ah, I have a strong love for music so my coworker recommended me this place. I’m glad I came. The place is beautiful and the musicians are extremely skilled.” You weren’t exactly lying. The sounds of the instruments that reached to your ear calmed and soothed you completely despite what you’re going to do in the next day or two. Seonghwa nodded in understanding as he looked towards the stage fondly where the four men continued to play, “I agree. I’m honestly really proud to call them my friends.” “Is that so? Tell me more about them,” you leaned forward to show your interest.

“Hmm let’s see. The one playing the drums with the ash hair is Wooyoung. He’s almost as loud as he plays, but you can tell he’s passionate about everything he does. The tall one playing the saxophone is Mingi, he told me he first started to play the sax since he was in elementary. The one with the dark hair with red highlights playing the piano, that’s San. He seems really serious right now, but he’s actually a really cheerful guy. He’s only ever this serious if he’s ever in the zone. And then lastly, the one playing the violin, that’s Jongho. He’s the youngest out of our friend group and he actually sings really well. He’s almost too talented even though he’s the youngest.”

As Seonghwa finished his description, you could evidently see how much he adored them. “You said your friend group…are there more who also plays like them?”

“Oh no, there’s actually eight of us in total. Half plays while the other half simply appreciates the music,” Seonghwa said while laughing. You shared your laugh with him until a voice caught both you and Seonghwa’s attention. Your heart sped up slightly when you turned to see who it was. “Excuse me miss, is this seat taken-“ he asked in a lulling tone. “No, please go ahead,” you answered as you made eye contact, taking a full view of his face and soft yet prominent features.

It’s Yunho.

Yunho smiled upon your approval as he sat next to you and then looked at Seonghwa who was already looking at him, “Hey, hyung. Who’s this?”

“This is our newcomer, y/n.”

“Newcomer, huh?” Yunho questioned. You could feel his curiosity. They knew each other… You looked between the two men and asked, “Are you both acquainted with each other?”

“Yeah, this is actually one of the guys in our friend group that I talked about earlier,” Seonghwa answered and Yunho immediately looked at you.

“You both talked about me, huh?”

You would think he was suspicious but you couldn’t sense that aura coming from him…only his strong and confident presence that probed you, making you want to leave the scene but you continued, “Yeah, I’ve heard you also admire music? Seonghwa and I talked about how wonderful this place is-“

“Really? That’s fantastic,” Yunho said while cutting you off, the words he spoke not matching with the sarcastic tone in his voice. You tried to fight off throwing a glare at his domineering attitude but he continued, “So that explains why you’re sitting here, by yourself on a Tuesday night being nosy and snatching information from my good friend here? Because of your love for the aesthetics and music hmm?” You accidentally slipped away from your composure for a moment and shot a venomous glare at him until you caught yourself. You never lose your composure. Especially not by a couple of cheap words but Yunho’s spiteful demeanor was truly testing you. Yunho also looked at you with cold eyes, fully aware that he was pissing you off to the point where you lost it for a split second. “Guys please not at the cafe… Yunho, the boss said to welcome her, not piss her off,” Seonghwa scolded at Yunho, the tone of his voice changing slightly as well. Boss…he said, boss... This was a trap and you had to get out of there. Within that short moment, many scenarios ran through your head, trying to calculate which would outcome your survival. Should you kill them both now? But if you do, there’s still four of their men still waiting behind you on the center stage. They continued to play their instruments but you could undoubtedly feel their attention on the three of you. Plus, this is their territory…who knows how many more people that are sitting in the dining area are actually disguised as one of them, or worse, all of them. Yunho was resting his head on his propped hand, looking completely unfazed. Maybe you could at least strike the both of them and exit just fast enough- “Will you relax? I can sense you’re overwhelmed but it’s overwhelming me too,” Yunho spoke cutting the silence, his words not matching his actions yet once again. “We’ve been told that we’re not allowed to kill-“

Now.

You swung both of your arms, sliding your blades out within only a split second. Yunho was startled slightly but moved just as fast and grabbed both of your arms that was aiming to slice both Yunho and Seonghwa’s neck, restricting your movements. You grazed Yunho’s cheek, blood slowly trickling down his cheek but he managed to stop your other arm just in time before it was only a centimeter away from reaching Seonghwa’s artery. Yunho maintained his hold on your arms, still immobilizing you. His face only a few inches away but his cold eyes reached yours even deeper. His voice husky and lowered an entire octave, “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted… we’re not allowed to kill you but I just might considering I don’t remember the last time I followed rules-“

“Yunho, stop,” Seonghwa said, completely unaffected. Yunho, clearly angry, raised his voice, “Hyung, this bitch cut my cheek which by the way, wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t have to look after your ass too.” Seonghwa chuckled at his last remark, “You know I’m not the fastest.” Then Seonghwa turned to you and smiled, “Forgive Yunho. He has his moods sometimes, but he means no disrespect-“

“She tried to kill us, so why can’t we kill her?” Yunho said emphasizing each word full of spite, but he knew he wouldn’t receive an answer from Seonghwa so he turned to face you again, “Tell your bastard of a boss, that we don’t want or need you on our team.”

Wait, what..? What did he mean by on their team…?

Your thoughts were cut off when your phone suddenly rang. By the specific ringtone, you could tell it was your boss calling you. You knew Yunho wasn’t letting go of your arms any time soon so you brought your foot up and kicked him directly at his crotch. Yunho immediately winced in pain, freeing your arms, with Seonghwa trying to stabilize him stretching his arms over the counter. You turned around heard Yunho in the background cursing at you and swearing that he’s going to end your life but you ignored him and answered your call, “Boss.”

“Retreat your mission and come see me immediately. Things have changed...”

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e|n: I hope this chapter wasn’t too confusing because I’ve made some minor changes (as stated in the beginning) We’ve almost officially met all of the members! I hope you’ll continue to read to see Nana meeting all of them. You’ll definitely see more interaction with the members in the next chapter. If you have any questions or need any clarifications, just ask! Thanks for reading and please leave feedback so I’ll know where I can improve :)

#ateez #ateez scenarios #a-tothe-z masterlist #enemies to lovers

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