#because i simply could not live losing the rare scene of him outside that is easy to colour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saintobio · 3 years

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pov: he’s a racer and you’re the finish line.

↳ oikawa tooru/fem!reader (feat. miya atsumu)

part 1/3. driven by the thrill of illegal street racing, an esteemed racer from Miyagi shows up and makes a tough bet against your toxic boyfriend in exchange for you.

genre. angst, fluff, street racer au

cw. ooc, illegal street racing, mentions of gambling, toxic and abusive relationships, profanity, violence, references to alcohol and drugs, atsuoi as rivals

notes. highly inspired from @aikk00’s beautiful fanart and from the 2Fast 2Furious movie bc i’m in love with it (missing brian o’conner hours). also!! i love atsumu w all my heart pls note that his character here is not the way i depict him irl :>

masterlist -> next

Sometimes you wished you could run away.

You thought about leaving everything behind and moving to a different city, a different environment, away from this scene that was once heaven but had turned into hell. It wasn’t like you had any choice, but you were dreaming of the idea of escaping because you knew that it was still possible. You knew that you could run away and live on your own, perhaps not now, but when you finally had the opportunity to do so.

Today just didn’t seem like it was. Like any other day.

“Just go check the engine and see it for yourself!”

For the past hour, you had spent your time exhaustingly listening to your boyfriend yell at his phone and completely lose his temper over something trivial. If you were being honest, you didn’t wish to be sitting next to him at that moment, but there was almost no escape to the sound of his loud voice as you find yourself trapped inside his car that was parked in front of a local 7Eleven.

The frown on Atsumu’s face was visible along with his furrowed brows and clenched jaws. This facial expression was something you had gotten used to seeing, yet these were the moments where you just wanted to see him smile again—even for a brief second—because you could barely remember the last time he had ever genuinely looked happy next to you.

“I already fucking told you I’ll be there on time!” he yelled angrily, almost popping a vein in his hand with how tightly he gripped his phone. “Stop asking stupid questions, ‘Samu!”

You let out a weary sigh. Poor Osamu.

His twin had to deal with Atsumu’s temperamental attitude and mood swings that only got worse lately because he was often under the influence. Drugs? Alcohol? You name it. Neither you nor Osamu could stop the guy from taking the substance until it came to a point where you just gave up. It was futile. The only two things that Atsumu would both live and die for were street racing and his vices. According to him, none of us could understand the addictive thrill of racing against the best racers in Hyogo in hopes of winning a hefty sum of cash.

Six years ago, Atsumu was still fairly new to the street racing scene, only ever sticking to his Hyogo usuals, and rarely meeting the real guys that defined the street racing culture in all of Japan.

Six years later, he still knew only a handful of racers outside Hyogo because he rarely participated in out-of-town races despite being known as 'the best racer' in the prefecture. He had been invited to join races in Tokyo, but he never dared to drive all the way to other towns to prove himself because he claimed that ‘Tokyo is not the standard’. One notable thing about Atsumu was how he believed that people were underneath him and that he didn’t need the number of experience to prove that he was the best. In Atsumu’s brain, he simply just had to beat the best racer of them all and that would instantly put him to the top. He believed that respect was something innate to him, not something he had to earn.

But other than reality punching his gut, he was also a sore loser. Not that Atsumu had ever been defeated before, but he hated the mere idea of losing so he would challenge anyone and everyone that was a threat to his reputation. He would often wager heck loads of cash to lure racers in and beat them in the race all while shoving it in their faces, only to further prove the rumors of his unprofessional conduct.

“‘Samu, I’ll talk to you later,” Atsumu hissed on his phone, reaching for the pack of cigarettes that he had placed on the cup holder. “Useless piece of shit.”

“Relax,” you asserted. "You don’t wanna stress yourself before your race later.”

After realizing that his pack was empty, he crumpled the small carton on his hand and withdrew a bill from his pocket. The same bill he was holding was later chucked to your direction before he gestured his head over to the store. “Buy me a pack,” he ordered indifferently, treating you like a dog that could go fetch things for him.

What a prick.

“You don’t have to be such a fuckin’ asshole.” Although you were chagrined to be the recipient of his rude behavior, you still picked up the money that he had carelessly thrown and afterwards removed your seat belt. “I swear one day I’m gonna leave your ass.”

“Say what?” His questioning gaze was meant to intimidate you.

But being a passive person, you chose to get out of the car before he could say anything further. “Nothing.”

“Whatever, bitch. Just get it fast!”

You slammed the door on his face and dragged your feet towards the store in vexation. The cold air and the smell of the convenience store food greeted you as soon as you got inside. Only the checkout person was in there and you would have obliged to Atsumu’s request of buying him a cigarette ‘fast’, but the rudeness in his tone made you want to stall a little. It wouldn't hurt.

With a small and nasty scoff leaving your lips, you headed towards the beverage section to get yourself a Mitsuya Cider. However, as you grabbed hold of the last standing bottle on the fridge, your hand came in contact with another one wrapped around the same drink as you.

“I saw it first,” the stranger promptly claimed, side-eyeing you to uphold his authority.

The guy was tall with tanned skin that matched his bronze hair and caramel eyes, but those weren’t his most noticeable traits. It was the bandaid on his cheek, the dragon tattoo on his neck that extended to his forearm, and the multiple piercings on his ear—all adding to the intimidation from his overall look. You found it quite contradicting that he had a cute, preppy vibe while also carrying a scary, bad boy aura around him. Fact was: you would be lying if you said that you didn’t find him attractive.

Still, you snorted and held onto the bottle tighter. No matter how handsome he was, you weren’t going to give him the pretty privilege. “I held it first, piss off.”

“Oh, so you’re the tough girl type.” He displayed an amused smile as he refused to let go, now gazing at your face with a glint of interest. “I’ll let you have it if you answer my survey.”

Survey? You rolled your eyes, raising an eyebrow afterwards, “What survey?”

The guy slipped his hand from inside the pocket of his ripped jeans before fishing out his phone. “You see, just put your name in here and your phone number for reference.”

You hated how he was grinning so smugly, but at the same time, you found his boldness entertaining. He was shooting his shot and you could tell by his stance that he expected you to give in. Just how many times had he done this to other women? Probably a lot.

“Nice try. I have a boyfriend,” you informed, remembering that you were keeping a guy with anger issues waiting in his car.

The brown-haired guy shrugged. “So? I don’t see him.”

“You don’t wanna see him.” You released the bottle from your hand. “He’s insane.”

Literally, because not even a few seconds after, Atsumu showed up from behind you with a scowl plastered on his face. “The fuck’s takin’ you so long?” He noticed the guy standing on your other side and glowered at him before turning back to you. “Give me the fucking money! I’ll buy the pack myself.”

You released a sigh of relief as you thought that he would incite a fight, or at least an argument against the brown-haired guy, but it caught you off guard when he simply stormed off and paid for the pack of cigarettes that he badly wanted to get. Perhaps there was just a lot going on in his head for him to even give a shit about you talking to another guy. Or maybe, he just didn’t care that much anymore.

“He seems pleasant,” the brown-haired guy commented, grabbing the bottle and handing it to you. “It’s yours. Just remember my name, it’s Tooru Oikawa.”

He said all that with a mischievous wink before he walked out of the store just after you paid for your stuff.

And, honestly…

Why did you ever think that Atsumu was all fine and dandy with it?

Because when you walked out of the store, you saw him on the sidewalk throwing a cold-blooded punch on Tooru’s face. The impact had the other guy staggering, but not enough to make him plummet to the floor.

“What the hell, Atsumu!” You hurried next to Tooru who simply laughed despite the blood on his mouth that he easily spat out.

“You know what happens to people who try to leave bruises on this pretty face?” he jeered at your boyfriend.

Though Atsumu just glared at him, unfazed. “I don’t give a shit. Back off my girl or you won’t live to see the next sunrise.”

“Bring it on, blondie.”

“Stop it!” you raised your voice, pulling Atsumu away and sending Tooru an apologetic look.

While the two guys sent each other a death stare, you insisted on keeping Atsumu away from him because you knew the kind of danger that awaited Tooru if this escalated. You knew by experience that your boyfriend could be an extremely violent guy, especially when he was fueled by his rage and you certainly didn’t want to witness another episode of it.

You were successful at making your boyfriend back off, although it seemed that his irritation had shifted onto you because his next response was to harshly shove you inside his black and gold Nissan GT-R Nismo. If not for your good reflexes, you would have hit your head on the roof of his car, but you managed to duck and get inside even with the searing pain on your shoulder.

Before you knew it, Atsumu already revved his engine and drove the car off at once—speeding on the street without a single care in the world. There was absolutely just silence inside, not a single music playing on his stereo except for the sound of his roaring engine, and it stayed that way for a couple more minutes until he spoke again in an authoritative voice.

“You're too bold tryna flirt with another guy in front of me.” He gritted his teeth with flaring eyes on the road. “Do it again or I swear to God.”

A bitter laugh flew out of your lips. He was surely good at this whole threatening game. “You’re one to talk, Atsumu. I’m not the cheater between the two of us.”

You frankly lost count of the amount of times that Atsumu had cheated on you with different women that he met from every race and you were certain that he would probably fuck one of those skanks again tonight, so it was very hypocritical for him to act jealous now.

“So, you’re gonna get back at me?” He snorted with overflowing sarcasm.

You kept a rigid face. “If I fuck another guy, that’s none of your business at this point.”

You were proud of yourself for saying that to him, but Atsumu’s sudden tight grip on your jaw stopped the sarcastic smile from tugging at your lips. At that moment, your heart was pounding and you could feel anxiety building up. This was painfully how your relationship with him has become—him, having to do what he wanted and you, allowing him to do what he wanted because you had no other choice.

Your reason for staying? You practically spent most of your life being grateful to his family for welcoming you after your parents died in a car crash when you were eight years old. You had no one else at that time, not even your mother’s nor your father’s side was willing to adopt you. If Atsumu’s parents weren’t close enough with your own family, nobody would have welcomed you the way they did and you would most likely be homeless.

Eventually, living with the Miyas also meant that you got closer to the twins, just a little bit more to Atsumu than Osamu because of, well, love. Once upon a distant time when Atsumu was still completely lovable and sweet, you fell in love with him after years of him trying to win your heart.

However, as seasons changed, his feelings changed, too. You were no longer sure if your reason for staying with him was still driven by love, because you knew that that same love had turned into loathe. Even if you and Atsumu had moved in together by yourselves, it only opened more flaws into your relationship because he was getting more and more comfortable at hurting your feelings knowing that he was going to get away with it.

Because you would end up forgiving him and you had nowhere else to go.

“You’re not in the position to talk back,” he spitefully reminded, leaving warm tears filling your eyes from his strong hold on your jaw. He harshly released your face and continued driving, never saying sorry and never telling you he loved you.

It was pretty quick for Osamu to point out the light marks on your jaw once he realized that they weren’t hickeys at all. They were bruises from his twin brother after he had unknowingly held you with lack of care this afternoon because of his unwarranted jealousy. The better twin didn’t approve of his brother’s random outbursts, but he couldn’t really persuade him into fixing his attitude because Atsumu wouldn’t listen to anyone except for himself.

Besides, you weren’t their main concern for the night.

Tonight, you were at an abandoned parking lot with the Miya Twins, Suna, and Kita along with the other spectators who were all waiting for another race to happen. Cars of different brands, designs, and modifications were all lined up in display for everyone to see. Every racer had their own crew and supporters cheering for them to possibly snatch the crown from the undefeated Atsumu Miya. Even though the whole place was pretty much loud, you could still hear someone blasting Act A Fool from their stereo with girls in mini skirts and crop tops littering the area like a swarm of bees that got out of their hive. This had been a typical scene for you for the last four years of being known as Atsumu’s trophy girlfriend. He was putting you on display because you were always watching his races on the sideline even when he hardly ever paid attention to you.

That was also the reason why no one had dared to ask you out because, even if Atsumu was an open cheater, he would still threaten guys who ever tried to get near you.

“You showed up late.” Suna pointed out while sitting on the hood of his modified maroon Toyota GT86. He was the second best racer in the crew, albeit still considered a rookie for having lesser races than Atsumu.

“Fuck off,” was Atsumu’s answer before he left you alone standing next to his car as he went to meet Aran Ojiro, the race host and organizer for all the street races in Hyogo.

Since the moment you two arrived, Atsumu had never spoken another word to you and it left you hurt and most definitely infuriated. No one could even blame you for growing tired of how he was treating you like dirt.

“He hurt you, huh,” Kita noted, briefly glancing at the light marks on your jawline. Kita was the contact of the crew—he was in charge of delivering the messages and other information to the crew such as when the next race would be or if there were any cops on standby. He was the main man in terms of communication between the other gangs and the event hosts.

You briefly touched your neck and wished that you should have worn a turtleneck instead of the beige tank top and mini skirt because you realized that the bruises were far too obvious even at night time. “He didn’t really hurt me intentionally.”

“You don’t have to lie for that bastard.” There was a look of disapproval that bathed from Osamu’s gunmetal eyes when he shut down the hood of his brother’s car after carefully checking the car parts as the crew’s mechanic. “Just break up with him.”

He was only stating the truth because as you looked at Atsumu, he was far too busy entertaining some of the girls that surrounded him, whispering in his ear and playing with the collar of his shirt like a bunch of desperate whores. He even held one girl on the bum like he didn’t have a girlfriend watching him.

“Go fuck yourself, Atsumu. I hope you lose tonight,” you muttered from a distance, crossing your arm and sitting next to Suna who was suppressing a chuckle.

“Don’t wish that, we need the money, too,” he joked, nudging your arm playfully. “Hey, why don’t you start racing? You can borrow my car and race for a pink slip so you can get your own.”

The term ‘racing for pink slips’ simply meant that you would be able to obtain the opponent’s car as a prize if you won the race. You had already thought about doing it before, but you just weren’t confident that Atsumu would easily allow you. Having your own car meant that you would have your own freedom to do what you wanted which was what he didn’t want.

“I don’t know,” you answered with a shrug, “Come on, Rin. Don’t act like you’d ever let me touch this baby of yours.”

An amused grin appeared on his face as he played with his car keys. “Maybe you’re an exception ‘cause you’re a sister to me and I trust your driving skills.”

“My driving skills.” You shook your head in good humor. “How’s the chick from your neighborhood that owns a pink Honda S2k?”

You brought it up because you recalled that there was a girl that Suna literally challenged for a race many times before, but he always somehow ended up losing to her. You had a theory that maybe Rintarou liked her despite antagonizing the girl at every race, but you couldn’t also deny that she was a good driver overall. You absolutely loved seeing women in their element.

It seemed that Kita had caught on and proposed the same theory, “I swear you like her. This whole rival thing is just a front.”

“No, the fuck I don’t,” Suna quickly denied, absolutely detesting the thought. “Kitashin, come on. Not you, too.”

Before you could even respond, a scene-stealer and perfectly modified electric blue Chevrolet Corvette pulled up in the middle of the lined cars, completely taking everyone’s full attention. Literally everyone in the parking lot stopped what they were doing as they all turned to the breathtaking car in both curiosity and wonder.

“Woah, woah! Is that a Corvette C7?” some guy fanboyed from the other side of the parking lot.

“Think it’s a C8, bro!”

“Sick car!” Suna gushed, just as awestruck along with the other racers and spectators. He even took out his phone to snap a quick photo of it.

On one hand, it wasn’t the car that surprised you the most, it was the driver.

As soon as the owner got out of his car, you almost shit your pants at the sight of him. The brown hair, the tattoos, the permanent smirk on his pretty boy face—the whole facade was screaming for one name and one name only.

“Tooru Oikawa,” you spoke in utter surprise. He asked you not to forget his name and there was no way you definitely could.

You watched the guy earn looks of intrigue from everyone like a famous celebrity as he made his way to greet Aran while he was collecting bets for tonight’s race. You couldn’t hear their conversation because the song Like A Pimp was playing from a stereo nearby, but you did notice that Oikawa and Aran seemed to know each other well.

You just couldn’t believe it. It felt like such a crazy coincidence that the man that flirted with you earlier was a street racer all this time because it was the least you expected from him. He had the vibe, but it still didn’t cross your mind.

“You know the guy?” Osamu asked you, eyeing Oikawa who was grinning at whatever Aran was saying to him.

You nodded with your eyes still glued on the said guy. “Yeah. We, uh, bumped into him this afternoon.”

Fuck. You were suddenly reminded of how Atsumu punched this guy in the face after he asked for your number. And funnily enough, all the girls that flocked Atsumu were now directing their attention towards this newcomer. Frankly? You couldn’t blame them. It seemed to have riled your boyfriend up because his hands were balled into fists as soon as the two guys recognized each other. Tooru wasn’t affected, in fact, they faced each other like two boxers preparing for a brawl. With a rigid and domineering stance, his face was simply smug and definitely the annoying kind of smug.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, pulling Suna and the crew towards them. “They had an altercation earlier. Don’t let them get caught in another fight.”

By the time you came to Atsumu’s side, you could already hear the insults and remarks coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth. Jesus. The blond was always one to sputter comments before he could receive one.

“So what’re you tryna do here, huh?” he taunted, keeping an unrelenting gaze on Tooru. “Showing off ‘yer daddy’s car?”

There were ‘oohs’ that collectively came from the crowd as you all watched the two run their mouths. Tooru, on the other hand, only got even more entertained and something told you that this was also the kind of scene that he was used to.

“Not sure ‘bout that,” Tooru responded, derisively. “I’m not the one driving daddy’s old GTR. Yours is more expensive than mine after all, ain’t it?”

Atsumu was quick to grab him by the shirt. “Watch it.”

Your instinct led you to get in between and separate the two for the second time today. Suna and Osamu helped with holding Atsumu back while Tooru’s eyes finally found yours at that exact moment. His lips instantly formed its trademark smirk just as he saw you like you were a shining gem that he had discovered in a wasteland. This very act was a declaration of war against Atsumu, because although knowing that you already had a boyfriend, Tooru was still pursuing you.

“What’s up, baby?” Tooru greeted you with a wink, causing your boyfriend to fume in jealousy.

“Tooru, what are you doing here?” you inquired, feeling all eyes on the two of you.

He didn’t even show the slightest interest towards anyone else but you. And even more, he seemed to have loved the fact that you referred to him by his first name. “Just thought it’d be fun to crash out-of-town races, plus I don’t wanna miss out on seeing a hot chick like you.”

Is he crazy?

Atsumu started laughing in disbelief. “I knew you’re not from here. Who the fuck do you think ‘ya are, huh?”

“Aran knows who the fuck I am,” Tooru answered, mocking Atsumu’s tone of voice before urging for Aran to speak up.

“Aight, y’all listen up! This guy’s the Grand King from Miyagi,” Aran then explained, much to everyone’s shock.

The fucking Grand King?!

You’ve heard enough about him from some of the racers who did out-of-town races, and from what you’ve heard, Tooru got the moniker ‘Grand King’ because he would crash out-of-town races just to beat every single gang and crew leader from all prefectures across Japan. Well, except Hyogo for now, but this place was obviously on his list.

He was that good.

He was also insane, because no one in Miyagi was good enough to beat him, which was why he would travel to every prefecture just to fill himself with the thrill that he badly wanted.

“Grand King, my fuckin’ ass,” Atsumu spat, pulling your arm while looking at him. “Race me.”

You winced from Atsumu’s hold as his nails dug crescent marks on your flesh. Oikawa was quick to notice this because his eyes flickered in anger for a second.

“Let her go,” he ordered under a stony gaze, only to receive your boyfriend’s sarcastic chuckle in return.

“I’ll do what I fucking want with her,” the blond bragged as though he was enforcing the idea to Tooru, “She’s mine.”

You tried to jerk your arm away unsuccessfully. “Atsumu, you’re hurting me—”

“Stop hurting her, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu commanded, “Don’t be an asshole just to show ‘yer tough.”

And with that, Atsumu’s ire only grew more. “Shut ‘yer trap! You’re always in my fucking business!” he yelled at his brother’s face before releasing you.

Your chest was aching along with the light red marks on your forearm. Suna’s immediate thought was to pull you behind him before standing on guard to protect you while Atsumu continued his conversation with Oikawa.

“What, too scared to race me?” Atsumu taunted, pushing Oikawa’s chest to incite a brawl, “I thought you’re the Grand King, huh?”

“Ooh.. Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“I’m not scared to lose and I hate guys who have bigger mouths than their car’s engine,” Oikawa retorted in a firmer stance, “Let’s race. If I lose, you get my car and I’ll pay you a hundred grand to match the GTR’s price. Clean and clear.”

What the—

The stakes were high for Atsumu and everyone else was profoundly shocked at the offer that Oikawa just gave him. Seriously. A hundred grand and a Corvette? Nobody in their right mind would even reject this chance.

“You willing to say goodbye to ‘yer car that easily?” your boyfriend sneered, already claiming his victory.

The Grand King remained confident in his own. “I have a McLaren at home. I’m not worried about a Chevy, bro.”

The audience broke into hoots and cheers. Even Suna and Kita couldn’t prevent themselves from displaying an impressed smile. Something about Tooru Oikawa being too relaxed about losing his Corvette because he had a freaking McLaren car definitely just thrashed on Atsumu’s superiority complex.

With all this, Atsumu huffed in aggravation. “And if I lose?”

“Simple.” Oikawa’s eyes met yours. “I get her.”

You froze from your spot as you looked into his eyes and just couldn’t wrap your mind around the deal that he just made. Your heart doubled a beat and raced like it was on its sixth gear because never in a million years did you think that you were going to be wagered into a fucking street race like you were some kind of a trophy.

This was just absurd. You were not to be treated as a transaction!

You furrowed your brows. “Are you crazy—”

“Fine.” Atsumu’s answer completely shocked you along with the surrounding audience.

Fine? Did he literally just agree to hand you over to a stranger? Was it that easy for him to lose you like you didn’t build a relationship for the last few years? Over a fucking bet? You knew Atsumu no longer loved you like he used to, but this was the peak of it.

“You know you can’t try to get her back once she’s mine, right?” Oikawa warned, watching Atsumu’s expression intently. “It’s a strict deal. You’re like making a deal with the devil.”

You were honestly offended at how they didn’t even consider your feelings before deciding on their crazy bet. You were being passed around like a blunt.

“Yeah,” Atsumu answered, clenching his fist to restrain his anger. “You can have that bitch, but you have to get through me first.”

“Atsumu,” you snarled, “How fucking dare you.”

“Piss off,” he told you, watching Oikawa’s scoff from the way the guy completely disregarded your feelings. Surely, he cared better for his pride than the bond you’ve had together.

It didn’t take long until the actual race was set and the audience surrounded the two. Aran later checked the modifications between both cars to decide if it would be a fair fight and all the while, Suna was doing his best to comfort you on the side.

“It’d be okay,” he consoled, rubbing your back.

Osamu ended up checking under the hood of Atsumu’s GT-R even though he already knew all of its specifications by heart. “Engine is a twin-turboed 3.6 liter V-6 with Nitrous Express in-car nitrous system,” he announced to an impressed crowd, “also an intercooler and a 545 horsepower.”

“Top speed?” Aran asked, turning to the car’s owner.

“220mph,” Atsumu boasted, sending his opponent a nasty look.

Oikawa just nodded in agreement. “Not bad.”

Soon enough, they went over to the Corvette and you noticed how Osamu’s eyes grew wide when he checked what was under the hood.

“Engine is a 6.2 liter LT2 small-block V-8. He’s got a Lingenfelter Extreme-S exhaust and a NOS fogger system,” Osamu explained, turning to Aran who then looked at Oikawa.

The brown-haired guy shrugged. “Top speed is just two hundred minus the nitro.”

“No downplay?”

“You’ve seen it, bro. It’s the skill, not the car.”

You could see the winning smile on Atsumu’s face at the fact that his car could go faster by 20mph and it made you roll your eyes heavily. No matter how fast his car was, it would always depend on the skill. Atsumu only ever cared more about the speed than the strategy and the only reason why he kept winning was because he owned one of the fastest cars ever made.

“Aight, we good?” Aran clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention before he looked at the two racers. “All good? The race is a 5km stretch along the construction site. We got people bordering the area so you know the path. First one to get back wins.”

“Sounds good, man.” Oikawa grinned, and in turn, made all the girls fall for his charm. Wasn’t it quite impressive how he only appeared today and yet he had already gained lots of fangirls?

Meanwhile, you were surprised when Atsumu approached you from where you stood and pulled you in for a rough kiss—in front of everybody—which he rarely did. And when he pulled away, he looked at you with less affection, but more rage. “Get in the fucking car with me. I’ll show this prick who owns you.”

“I-I don’t—!” You couldn’t even decline because he already gripped your arm and pushed you inside while Oikawa watched in distaste.

“Kissing her in front of me won’t make me want her any less.” Oikawa called out for one last time before getting in his car while Atsumu flicked him off.

“This is fucking stupid,” you hissed under your breath, leaning your head on the window with a frown.

The two guys revved their engines up as their cars were side by side in front of the red line. Aran stood in the middle to discuss the rules, the wager, and all the details they needed to know before the race. You knew that they weren’t even listening because they kept glancing at each other tauntingly, with Atsumu staring daggers at Oikawa and Oikawa giving him a sardonic peace sign in return.

Despite Oikawa's sarcastic wit, you didn’t miss the flash of sincerity in his eyes when he briefly looked at you, most likely telling himself that he would do whatever it took to win you. What you couldn’t really understand was why he chose you as the prize because this was just unreasonable. He must have wanted something else—something more.

And yet, this was the first time that someone was genuinely fighting for you.

As the flagger finally counted down to one, Atsumu hit the gas pedal and immediately accelerated the car at a speed faster than you’ve ever seen him do. It was clear as day that Atsumu was fueled by anger and driven by the motivation to beat the other guy. By then, you realized, it definitely wasn’t just about you. He was seizing the opportunity of dethroning the Grand King now that it was in his hands, whether he loses you or not, he was gearing more towards his pride and reputation than to keep you by his side.

To be fucking honest? It sucked.

Knowing that your boyfriend cared more about anything else than your own feelings. In the first place, he never regarded your feelings whenever he chose to wound your pride. Osamu was right—what was stopping you from just simply breaking up with him? The fear of loneliness? The fear of being abandoned? It wasn’t enough for you to take all of this toxicity and you should have realized that sooner.

“You know I’m not just an object, right?” you stated, watching him shift his gears aggressively.

“Shut the hell up!” he snapped, frantically glancing at the rear view mirror as he went past the Corvette. “I don’t know why that punk likes you so much, but I’m not gonna let him touch my things.”

His words elicited a bitter scoff out of you. “I’m a thing?”

“I said shut up, will ‘ya?!” He steered the car to the left with a scowl. “You’d be on the streets if we didn’t take you. You should humble yourself.”

His words hurt tenfold, so much that the pain was inflicted on your soul. That was what you’ve been doing all this fucking time—not being able to leave because you felt like you owed him and his family for the life they gave you, but here he was pouring salt to the wound.

“You’ve changed, Atsumu,” you said, swallowing the bile forming on your throat. He didn’t even listen to you. He was too busy grumbling as Oikawa’s car drafted closely from behind.

His engine roared and you could hear Atsumu cursing under his breath as he made another turn. The outside view was passing through your vision in complete blur because of the car’s velocity. Surprisingly, Oikawa skillfully oversteered his car and drifted with much precision until he was able to catch up in speed. The sound of his screeching tires rang in your ears for a few seconds, and in less than a minute, his car was head-to-head with Atsumu’s.

Oikawa’s face was visible from his window as he looked at your boyfriend, pulling a v-sign with his fingers between his mouth and displaying his tongue in between—bluntly mocking your boyfriend with the sexual act.

You weren’t going to lie. Oikawa’s mischievous and carefree nature almost earned a chuckle out of you, but this caused enough fury for Atsumu to hit the NOS switch.

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach when the car accelerated to a dangerous speed. The sound of the turbo was so deafeningly loud that you would assume that you were speeding off to another dimension.

“What’cha got now, huh?!” Atsumu derided, laughing in absolute mockery.

It was the final turn.

You clutched the seatbelt as you watched his speedometer go from 160 to 180, but not long until he saw a roadblock sign that ultimately caused him to panic. “Watch out!” you nervously exclaimed.

“Shit!” Atsumu steered the car to the left and ended up losing his control for a brief second. His hands desperately tried to maneuver the steering wheel, but it was all too late.

A mere three seconds.

Only those three seconds were enough for Oikawa to catch up again and utilize his own NOS, boosting his car with the power of nitrous.

“Agh!” Atsumu pressed his foot on the accelerator at the intensity of his pique, chasing Oikawa very closely and bumping into him side by side. “I’m not letting you win!”

For the first time throughout the race, you saw Oikawa’s serious face and just how clearly focused he was in reaching the end of this race with enough determination. His vision was only on the finish line and his focus could not be broken by anything else, but the thought of winning you.

Good for him, because he did win by an inch.

Because you were his finish line.

The crowd ran and surrounded Oikawa’s car after he won the race while Atsumu pulled up behind and stayed inside the GTR. He was drawing in long, deep breaths of frustration and you suddenly felt scared that he wasn’t going to take his defeat lightly.

“Atsumu, it’s—”

“You wanted this, right?” he suddenly spoke, chest rising and falling with his restrained temper. He soon grabbed your wrist and looked at you with furious eyes. “You wanted to go to him! You wanted me to lose!”

“Atsumu, get off—” You tried to pull his hand away by clawing your nails on his forearm. You expected that he would take his anger on you like he always did, but not as soon as now. “Stop being a fucking dick to me! You’re the one who can’t race for shit!”

“You think I didn’t fucking see how ‘ya looked at him?”

“Let me go!”

You were grateful when the crew came and Osamu was banging Atsumu’s window to get him to stop holding onto you. His grip was strong, but you managed to reach for the lock with your other hand which was enough for Suna to open your door and help you off Atsumu’s hold.

“Dude, that’s enough,” Rintarou demanded, finally removing your bastard boyfriend’s hands off you.

You didn’t realize that you were already a crying mess as soon as you got out of the car and the crowd’s attention had shifted onto you. Particularly a very furious Oikawa.

Some girls quickly approached your side in both worry and concern.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Are you okay?”

But then, you couldn’t answer the kind girls that reached out to you because your eyes were fixated on Oikawa who was marching towards Atsumu before swinging a fist on his face.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off her. You don’t touch a girl like that!” Oikawa glowered at the guy, readying himself in case Atsumu fought back, but Osamu and Kita already held him tight.

“Race me again!” Atsumu sternly proposed, still in denial with his loss.

He could win on the second try, but Oikawa already turned his back and headed towards you.

“I don’t race losers,” he merely said, earning a growl from your now ex-boyfriend.

When your breathing had calmed down, you could see Atsumu trying to argue with Oikawa even as you garnered all of the man’s attention.

“You good?” asked him, to which you nodded.

Before anyone could even speak again, there was a siren going off from a distance and the crowd quickly dispersed, with someone yelling, “Cops! Cops!” and it didn’t take long for the cars to drive off in every direction. The scene was absolute chaos.

“Get in my car,” Oikawa insisted, opening the door to his Corvette.

“Y/N!” Atsumu yelled, eyeing you with authority and urging you to go to him. “You’re not going with him!”

Remembering the amount of tears that you’ve let out during your time with him, there was no longer any reason to stay and see his reaction. “It’s over, Atsumu.”

It was an exhausting night and the whole high-speed police car chase added to the rollercoaster of emotions that you just went through. Despite all that, there were also many things that you noticed about Oikawa while you were in his car.

a) He was a really good driver

He managed to escape the cops’ line of sight by speeding off the freeway without causing damages or any casualties. At one point, he even drove through a narrow distance between two huge trucks while nearing 180mph.

b) He was pretty fucking smart

He was knowledgeable enough on how the police operate which was exactly why he managed to dodge the EMPs (Electromagnetic Pulse) that the police officers tried to shoot on his car.

“What were those?” you inquired as he drove away from the city.

He glanced from his side mirror and then back to you. “EDU launchers. They’re these hi-tech car zappers that have taser-like functions. If your car gets hit by one, it delivers a blast of radio waves powerful enough to knock out vital engine electronics, making the targeted vehicle stall and slowly come to a stop. That way they can catch and arrest you.”

You literally had no idea that those things even existed. “You’ve been arrested before, have you?” you asked, not meaning to offend him, but just out of curiosity.

His lips then spread into a smile. “No, they always give up on chasing me.”

At 1 a.m., you realized that he was driving more relaxed after the cops had completely stopped pursuing him and then it clicked to you that this guy was now driving out of Hyogo.

“Where are we going?” you asked in panic, looking at the road signage that said ‘You are now leaving Hyogo’.

He casually manned the steering wheel with one hand. “Home.”

You looked at him as your heart went into a frenzied state. Frankly, it still hasn’t sunk in that this guy won you as his prize and you had no single idea what he had in mind. What if he was a gangster? Or a pimp? What if he was involved in something like human trafficking? What if he sells your organs?

After noticing the expression on your face, the man let out a snort, “You don’t wanna go back to that bastard, don’t you?”

It was an 11-hour drive from Hyogo to Miyagi so you definitely could not come back as easily as you wanted, but you also realized that you did want this. You had the chance to finally leave your life with Atsumu and start somewhere new. This was your cue. This was the perfect opportunity to do it and Oikawa was the savior that helped you get out of it.

Still, he was a stranger and would remain a stranger for the time being.

“N-No, but,” you hesitated, averting your eyes away. “I don’t trust you.”

“You can trust me not to hurt you like he does,” he said, turning his stereo on, “Relax. It’s a long drive and I’m not a serial killer, by the way.”

He offered a chuckle as you eased on your seat, taking a small blanket that he reached from the backseat while he kept a playful hand on your thigh. The song Tokyo Drift was playing from his bass-boosted stereo, makung you wish that you could just keep watching him drive so attractively.

But there was another thing on your mind that was bothering you and you only got the courage to say it as he pulled up at a driveway of a motel in the middle of nowhere.

“Tooru?”

“Mm?”

You looked at his caramel eyes. “What are we?”

“Whatever you want us to be.”

#tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #oikawa angst #haikyuu streetracer #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #oikawa street racer #haikyuu street racer #street racer au

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alluringjae · 3 years

Text

queen of hearts - sjn

summary: for the first time, one of your star students hasn’t been fetched right after class. but when she finally does, you weren’t expecting such a fine man to be her father.

pairing: johnny x female reader

word count: 5.5k

genre: fluff, romance, comedy | ceo and single dad!johnny + ballerina!reader + modern day!au

warnings: mentions of an absent parent, johnny being an overthinker, sexual innuendos (ten saying dilf hehe), slight explicit language, technical terms of ballet, a mini reference to mean girls

author’s note: sooo i came in touch with my former dance life, which led me to write this. there are links for the variations i used; their names are underlined when they’re mentioned. i am going to get technical with ballet terms here (even when my ballet knowledge decreased), so to any dancers reading, i really did my best, so please don’t come for me or do correct me for any mistakes.

although one character and her dance background, plus the name of the setting, are real, everything else about it is still a work of fiction.

i miss dancing, no cap.

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Ballet student and teacher by day, a soloist of the Korean National Ballet at night.

This was your daily routine, and it wasn’t the typical 8-5. But it’s debatable whether or not it was worse, because you’re always going overtime. That’s the thing when you’re an overachiever. Nonetheless, you loved what you do. It’s the lifestyle you gradually built since your preschool days.

Mornings on the weekdays were mostly vacant since all the kids were still in school. You’d start at 10 am for a warm-up class for the company. Before you delved into teaching and assisting, you’d train right after your lunch break. Partnering class, en pointe class, 1-on-1 sessions with choreographers, self-practice, then the company night class, that’s the organization of your week.

Now adding the teacher title, you mostly handled kindergartners to 5th graders in the academy aspect of the company. Your first teaching class would start at 1 pm. It’s when the younger students who finished their morning classes zoom into your assigned dance studio. One class would last an hour and a half, then you have a 30-minute break in between another class with the older kids. Their lesson repertoire was more strenuous due to the added across-the-floor lessons and jumps. Water was always your best friend, water refilling stations located everywhere in the company building.

You wouldn’t say you’re a strict teacher, but you weren’t shy to correct anyone from wherever you stood. You’d lightly align their arms or back properly so your students were working on the correct body parts. Compared to the other teachers, a lot of students enjoyed your kind yet frank approaches. Your former students, who’ve already gone to the higher levels, missed your lively presence and wished repeatedly that they want you back as their teacher.

“Teacher (Y/N), I miss you so much! Teacher Ten is so intense. I get the jitters especially when we’re en pointe on the floor.”

“Teacher (Y/N), Teacher Sicheng and Teacher Seulgi scare the heck out of me during partnering class. Especially when I tried to lift my partner, I keep losing focus because of Teacher Sicheng’s never-ending comments!”

Not to be sadistic, but you’d simply laugh at their minuscule complaints. Even if they’re struggling in the academy, those comments were directed to fix their techniques if they wanted to breakthrough.

“Kids, you’re going to be fine! They wouldn’t say or do those things just because they wanted to. They’re here to push you to the next level, like how I used to do with you. It’s a cut-throat industry after all.”

This was always your reply, bittersweet and truthful. Not everyone makes it, unfortunately, so if you’re really striving, you’d do whatever it takes. Throughout your career, you’re relatively impressed with how far you’ve come.

Trainee at 17, Corps de Ballet at 18, Demi-Soloist at 21, and Soloist at 23.

You’ve been a soloist for 4 years. The final stage, which was to become a principal dancer, is your running goal. Becoming a soloist was praiseworthy enough because you’ve seen so many give up in the Corps, but claiming a spot as a principal dancer has been the ultimate dream. Since you’ve watched Swan Lake for the first time at 4 years old with your parents, that’s where you found a passion for dancing and the stage. Here you are years later, practicing numerous variations daily, performing in opera houses, and mentoring all these gifted kids.

Your last class with elementary kids, which began around 5 pm, reached its end once all the students curtsied in front of you and scurried to their mothers or their nannies. The remaining plan on your agenda today was the company class at 7:30 pm, which exceeds the average hour and a half. It’s worse during show season. There have been times everyone went beyond midnight to polish every scene from head to toe.

Currently, there’s no upcoming show for the public, though the annual summer recital for the students was around the corner. Selected members of the company were chosen to perform individually in it, which was both exciting and intense. It’s also because it’s an evaluation on whether you’d get promoted in status or staying put. You’ve partaken in 3 recitals in the past, two of which elevated you from the corps and demi-soloist ranks. The recent one, however, didn’t change your soloist ranking.

It was a major first in your career in ballet, and after finding out the result of the latter, it emotionally pained you. Recalling how much soul you put into that piece, the rejection from your artistic director clenched your heart. Though in time, you moved on from it and viewed it as a stepping stone. Also, Sicheng and Ten personally stormed your apartment to pull yourself together with wine and pizza after going on a short leave.

Since you were trainees, Sicheng and Ten were your best friends in and outside the company. Working daily to occasional barhopping, that’s your youth summed up. It wasn’t because you didn’t like the girls you’ve worked with (though a lot of them were fake and bitchy), but these two were frank and humorous as hell. Together, you’d help each other with your goals rather than be competitive. Over time, Ten leveled up to a principal dancer for 2 years running while you and Sicheng were still soloists. The way you’d watch Ten take all the big roles, that’s where you want to be one day.

Back in your last teaching class, the entire dance room was vacant. Since it’s mainly used for ballet classes, you’d either run through anything you’ve practiced from the company classes and polish it or warm up a little bit more.

Except for today, this was the only free time to sew a new pair of pointe shoes because your current ones were dead. Dead in a sense that the hard shell turned soft, which won’t be able to support you when you’re up on your toes. You’re not taking any risks of minor injuries especially when you’re in the current lineup of company members performing for this upcoming recital again. You have to prove to everyone that you deserve a position as a principal dancer.

As your legs sprawled in a half middle split, your sewing equipment laid in front of you like you’re about to perform surgery, a tiny girl stood by the ajar studio doors. In her neat bun and holding on to her small duffel bag, you’re convinced everyone has gone home already since it’s quite late.

You may have your priorities as a company member, but she was still your student.

“Minji!” You shouted her name, speedily waving your hand. You’re not one to have favorites, though you couldn’t help wonder how extraordinary she was. She’s always taking charge in demonstrating the lessons to everyone and improving every session in the 3 years she’s joined the academy. “Come in! Come in!”

At age 7, she’s gotten taller through the years, above the average from how you see it. She must have amazing genetics. Her legs sauntered in seconds to you. Sitting down across you, she marveled at your setup. Specifically, at the fresh pointe shoes.

“Are those yours, Teacher (Y/N)?” She perked up, caressing its soft fabric and playing with the mini bows of the drawstrings.

“Yes, it is, Minji!” You answered while trying to insert the thin thread through the small eye of the needle. “Why are you still here? Is your nanny stuck in traffic or something?”

“My nanny went on sudden leave, so my dad’s the one fetching me. But I think he’s running late from his job.”

Oh, this was a first to know about her father. In all the years she’s been your student, you rarely caught sight of him, even in recitals. Maybe he sat in an unknown section, but you’re pretty much acquainted with all the parents of your students. Even if some were snobbier than the rest because they wanted their child to have more stage time, you still got to know them out of respect. Quite odd, if you said so yourself.

After deep concentration, the thread triumphantly passed through the eye so you tied the two ends of the thread in a double knot. Seeing as Minji attentively watched you, you tasked her to cut the ribbons of your shoes according to the trail of pencil marks. This was so she wouldn’t cut it too short or too long. While she did that, you hammered your shoes against the floor to soften the hard front, bending the shank back and forth so the arch of your feet could move without difficulty later.

Minji wasn’t expecting such loud sounds, her entire body shaken awake. Her facial expression was priceless, explaining to her, “Once you get your first pointe shoes in a few years, this is one of the basic things you need to do so your feet won’t hurt too much while dancing.”

“Will you be there to teach me how to make my pointe shoes?”

“Absolutely! Come to me first then I’ll mentor you all that I know.”

The process of sewing and breaking new pointe shoes engraved your mind since your adolescent years, with changes along the way. Inspired by some tricks from your former teachers, but there were some differing rituals you followed. There’s no definite process of it, just as long you’re comfortable to dance after.

With your feet, you stepped on the hard boxes of the shoes to soften it more, creating a popping sound. Followed by sewing your elastic bands in. For your ribbons, you liked to burn the edges with a lighter so the thread of it won’t run. Kindly asking your cute assistant for the lighter beside her, you scanned the edges back and forth the flame. In seconds, the edges had a distinct mark, fully closed. From there, you slid your feet to your shoes to make final sewing adjustments. Sewing your ribbons took you another few minutes, plus adding superglue inside the shoe so the shoe won’t collapse when it unstiffens and scratching the shank with a cutter so you won’t slip later while dancing.

Voila, the final product is done! Hopefully, it can last you a week at least.

“Wow, Teacher (Y/N), it looks pretty!” Minji applauded, collecting the mess you’ve both made to dispose of later. You, on the other hand, gave her your thanks once you applied some bandages on your big toes and put on your toe pads. Slipping inside the shoes and tying them, you rose up back to your feet and headed to the bar to break them in. From plies-relevésto forced arches, the shoes gave you the sensation that they were an extension of your feet. The ease flowed through, meaning you were ready to practice your variations.

While you stepped your shoes in rosin for friction, your curious student moved to the front where the mirror lied to watch what you’ve prepared.

“What variation are you dancing to?”

“This is the Gamzatti variation from La Bayadere.” You replied, tapping the play button on your phone and racing to your position on the side. Talking a short ballet walk, you strongly prepared your arms before the music of the orchestra takes off.

This variation consisted of a lot of jumps and turns. Grand jetés, attitude turns, chaîné turns, you needed a lot of core control and proper spotting so you won’t get dizzy. The thrilling music lessened your nerves because you enjoyed learning this piece from one of the principal dancers, smiling and letting the music guide your legs. Once you nailed 3 consecutive grand jetés, the variation ended with a sus-sous and the wrists of your hands flicking upwards.

Holding it for 5 more seconds, you landed back on your feet with heavy breathing and a need for water. But before you could, small claps and cheers from Minji in front erupted. Momentarily, you’ve forgotten her presence because dancing solo puts you in your own space. You’d never let anyone take you away from it.

“Teacher (Y/N), that was wonderful! Are you performing that in the summer recital?”

Yikes, she’s right but she wasn’t meant to see it yet. Solo performances from the company members for the recital were top secret, only unveiled during the production rehearsal. Well, you didn’t think this through, but you didn’t mind.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Time ticked a lot faster today, only 10 minutes left until the company class on the ground floor whereas you were in the second. Just a few steps down the stairs away, yet Minji was still here. You only presumed that within your hour break, her father could’ve made it already. But maybe he’s stuck in traffic or at work.

“Minji, my class starts soon. Have you contacted your father?”

“I already texted him earlier, but he hasn’t responded. This happens often, he’s a busy man.” She bowed in front of you suddenly. “I’m sorry, Teacher (Y/N) for the hassle.”

“Oh no, please!” You shook your hands so she’d stop. Because this situation was relatively new, you were unsure of how to handle it. Or that was until you remembered what Ten texted you earlier. “Minji, the blinds of the main studio are going to be lifted so anyone from the outside can view us practicing. Would you like to watch until your dad gets here?”

With her insistent nodding, she situated herself in one of the seats in the front row. When you entered the main studio, your two close companions already carried a metal barre to the center and leaned towards it while observing you walking to them in your flat shoes.

“I see we have a bit of an audience here.” Ten glimpsed at the young girl, astonished by the many dancers prepping and chatting away with their cliques from the glass barrier.

“Her dad isn’t here yet, and you did say the blinds were up today. Might as well give her a show while she waits, you know.” You lifted your right leg to the top barre, stretching it with your arms.

“Hmmm, shouldn’t her dad be more cautious though? It’s getting late and it’s a Thursday. Doesn’t she have school or something?” Sicheng pointed out, discarding his muscle tee to straighten out his leotard.

“That’s not my business though. She’s just my student, and since she’s still here, I have to entertain her while she waits.”

Before your friends said anything back, the artistic director of the ballet company strutted her way to the center of the room. It’s a common rule here that once she entered, everyone must be silent to listen and race to any free spot in the numerous barres spread out if they haven’t.

“Alright, everyone. We’ll do the typical barre, then before doing across the floor exercises, I’ll be requesting those performing solos already in the recital to dance any variation tonight as another evaluation on who deserves to perform twice.” She eyed the pianist directly beside her. “Proceed first with two demi-pliés then one grand plié. Don’t forget to do the port de bras of each position.”

As the live piano music played, your focus was divided. Partly properly executing the exercise while your artistic director roamed each barre area, partly thinking about what variation to perform. This was a first for the company, and everyone was just stunned to hear the breaking news. It’d be nice to get an extra opportunity to showcase to people your potential.

30-40 minutes flew by quickly. As the guys carried the bars to the side to clear out the floor and the girls changed to their pointe shoes, the artistic director ordered all the performers of the recitals to stand in a line in front of her. Everyone else was seated around the room, so the interested eyes of everyone were on you. There were 10 performers, half are from the corps and the other half are either demi-soloists or soloists. You and Sicheng stood beside each other, internally shaking with nerves under the intimidating eyes of the artistic director. She used to be a principal dancer for the Stuttgart Ballet in Germany before moving back to Seoul, making her undeniably capable of leading all of you.

“Okay,” From her seated position observing the 10 performers, her finger pointed at you directly. “Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), you perform first.”

Your nerves intensified and more sweat streamed out your upper body. Even if going first felt more relieving, no one was ever brave enough to perform individually in front of the esteemed artistic director. Principal dancers aside from Ten that you’re close with were intimidated when they have 1-on-1 or partnering sessions with her. But anyhow, in less than 2 minutes, you’d be done. This wasn’t the first time she’s had your full attention either, so you’ll treat it like the other individual performances you’ve had.

You smiled to yourself when the other soloists left you alone, while you gave the name of the variation you’re dancing to the pianist. Running to the side to put on a practice tutu, the artistic director asked, “What will you be dancing for us tonight, (Y/N)?”

“I’ll be dancing Queen of the Dryads from Don Quixote.”

The last time you did this variation was 3 years ago during the recital that didn’t change your position as a soloist. Even if this variation hurt to think about for a while, it was still one of your favorites to watch and do. Moving on, you could only muse how powerful and beautiful you felt at that time. This isn’t an easy piece to perform in your opinion. Yet according to the members of the company, this was their favorite solo of yours.

As the starting notes unfolded, you took a deep breath and elegantly walked into the frame. You only wished you wore your fake crown again for this. Minimal smiling and light arms, you imagined yourself as an actual queen who captured the eyes of many. In this case, your fellow seniors and juniors held their breaths at the captivating sight of you.

Off you go into a series of glissade jeté developpé on relevé at elevating heights, then a fouetté arabesque and another arabesque on relevé before ballet walking again to the side to dance across the stage. Sissonne to the front, right developpé to the front on relevé, pique to prepare for a single pirouette, you gracefully did a chassé to the front twice and stood on your toes with a sus-sous.

Doing it a few more times, the climax of the entire variation was nearing. Returning to the center, you took another deep breath and lifted your left leg for the Italian fouettés. Spotting to the front and back while maintaining your balance, the variation approached its end with lame duck turns, posing with your arms were positioned at a 45-degree angle, your back slightly arched and your left leg doing a tendu derriére. Your eyes reflected at the mirror in front, surveying your alignment. Once your 5-second hold was finished, you properly put your arms down and closed your back leg into 5th position.

The applause from everyone in the room roared, Ten and Sicheng wolf-whistling even for more support. It’s a usual thing every time any of you perform individually, and no one minded it. The artistic director grinned, giving a quiet clap from the front before calling out the next performer, who was from the corps. Bowing to everyone hastily, you paid more attention to spot your student by the window. She was smiling ear to ear, waving both hands at you.

“You did amazing, Teacher!” She mouthed. Hearing words of praise from members was one thing, but hearing them from students was another. You’re so used to watching them and giving them your compliments that you often forget that you’re a dancer first before a teacher. Seeing them all delighted, saying that it motivates them more, showed that you’re doing a great job teaching them. You’re a reflection of what you pass down, and all you want was for them to be the best they could be.

From her jolly expression, a tall masculine silhouette hovered a part of the window. Her instinct of giving a brighter smile when the hand of said silhouette patted her head then carried her duffel bag again, that could only mean one thing. Excusing yourself to the artistic director, you stepped out to bid your goodbye and maybe meet her father. Minji and the tall man were about to leave the building if it weren’t for your breathy voice calling them out.

“Seo Minji and Mr. Seo?”

They stopped their tracks. Minji was fast to react, familiar with your voice and racing towards you for a sweaty hug. Meanwhile, your focus shifted once the masculine silhouette came into full view. You finally understood why Minji’s growth spurt spiked up, noticing that he was taller than Sicheng.

The top buttons of his shirt were off, yet he kept his formal blazer on. His hair was a bit tousled, some strands falling in front of his forehead. He must’ve run here. Peeking through were some roots of his scruff growing. His eyebags were almost as dark as his brown hair. Yet by the way his Rolex remained spotless, you blatantly assumed that he was more than well-off. Especially when the ballet academy was one of the most prestigious ones in Seoul.

Out of all the parents you’ve met, none of them appeared youthful like him.

“Teacher (Y/N)?” Thanks to Minji, you moved your staring eyes away from him. This was another first, since meeting only the fathers of your students wasn’t your norm. Meeting young-looking fathers, to be specific.

“O-Oh,” You ate your words, suddenly blanking out. “You’re leaving me without saying goodbye, Minji? Not polite of you.”

“My father was rushing right after watching your performance, and I don’t know why.” She responded, her finger scratching the top of her head in confusion. Speaking of said father, his strong presence appeared right in front of you. The wrinkles of his forehead creased while his eyes barely looked at yours.

“Uhm,” His fingers toyed with his Rolex. “I apologize for my tardiness. I got caught up in work and all, plus her nanny le-”

“Mr. Seo.” You halted his rambling, already aware of the situation. Like father, like daughter. “It’s fine. Minji loved watching us practice while waiting, and she wasn’t a bother either. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Phew.” He swiped an imaginative bead of sweat from his forehead, displaying his relief with his playful nature.

At age 23, Johnny Seo started his own company in the fashion scene and it grew internationally in the coming years. Then when Minji unexpectedly joined the picture, he’s been multi-tasking to make ends meet. Lately, as a CEO, he has had meetings and conferences on a daily. So, his position as a single father was always tested. It worsened when he rarely has proper time to spend any time with Minji unless it’s the weekend or late in the evening. Breaking it down, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to meet you. It was more like he couldn’t when his schedules were packed from head to toe.

Having the guilt of taking your precious time, “Seriously though, I am sorry for being late. Her nanny resigned suddenly, and I have no time to find her replacement.”

“Mr. Seo, again, don’t worry about it. As her teacher and a company member, I am practically here 24/7 so it won’t be a nuisance at all if this happens again.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher (Y/N). That is your name, right?” He planted his palm on his forehead, stressed. “Being a single parent is hard. I am always forgetting things.”

A part of you couldn’t restrain from feeling sorry for his struggle. Taking care of a child should be the work of both the mother and father, not one of them being absent. You’ve feared this would harm Minji, but she’s a strong girl.

“The fact you didn’t forget to fetch Minji despite the late time is still something to be happy over. I’m not a parent or anything, but parenting, in general, is a challenge.” You added an insight, patting the head of the young girl beside you. “Cut yourself some slack, Mr. Seo. I’m sure Minji still loves you, right?”

Minji shouted a big yes, now clinging to the leg of her father. “It’s okay, dad. Really.”

Over the years, Johnny has been doubtful of his parenting skills. He was an only child, and he struggled to ask for guidance from his own parents due to the shame of having a kid at a young age. So, he’d ask for help from his other friends and co-workers. No matter how many times they’ve reassured him that he’s doing well, he’s an overthinker who always reflected on the bad scenarios. There’s also that pressure to find someone who can fill that absent position not just for Minji, but for himself too. No matter how many girls he’s asked out or been set up with, he failed in the love department badly.

It’s the soothing way you voiced out your truth that made all these negative thoughts running through his head freeze briefly. Over the past 3 years since Minji started ballet, she always had a great story about you to share. One of them was how ballet made her a lot happier because of your influence. If he had at least an hour of his day to meet any of his daughter’s mentors, it would’ve been you.

“Do feel free to call me Johnny instead.” He casually introduced himself, taking his hand out for you to shake. “Mr. Seo makes me feel like I’m at work right now.”

Despite his informal approach, you understood his intentions and returned the action with a promising smile. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Johnny.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Teacher (Y/N).”

Earlier, the nerves from performing in front of the artistic director died down fast. But for some reason, they rose back up when you’ve spoken to this man in a matter of minutes. As someone whose feelings don’t flourish in a single glance, why did this man specifically deliver you such a strong effect?

If it weren’t for Ten calling for your name by the door, you would’ve held on to Johnny’s hand longer, which would’ve been inappropriate. Letting go first, this was your cue to return to your class.

“I must head back inside, Johnny. Don’t sweat on fetching your daughter late, though she is still a student with school the following day. Right, Minji?”

Minji nodded as Johnny kept that mind, knowing where he has to improve next. “Yes, Teacher (Y/N). Thank you again, sincerely. I’ll definitely see you again in the coming days until Minji has a new nanny.”

“That’s no problem with me at all, Johnny.”

Soon as Johnny held his daughter’s hand to exit the studio and you were re-entering the studio with an impatient Ten, he swerved swiftly as if he forgot something.

“Oh by the way Teacher (Y/N), I saw your whole performance awhile ago. I was blown away, you deserved the applause.”

Although you could only distinguish his silhouette, you didn’t suppose he watched you from head to toe. Most parents or nannies would’ve dragged their kids out of the studio once they find them like they were on a tight schedule, so this was novel to experience. That performance showed your prime too.

“Thank you, Johnny. See you again soon.”

Giving a final nod, you led yourself back to the studio, not bothering to acknowledge the erupting heat on your cheeks and entire body. Not to sound narcissistic, but compliments weren’t foreign to you. You’re conscious of the hard work that you put in your talent and if they pointed out your greatness, why would you deny it? However, receiving one from Johnny was like gearing your engine with new fuel.

Before you could try to reject these harboring feelings, Ten was fast to pick up on it. You cannot hide anything from this man at all because body language was like another language he’s fluent in (aside from the other 5). Unlucky for you, the saga continued.

“You’re so into dilfs, (Y/N)!” He shrieked in your ear, nudging your shoulder repetitively. He placed things in his own way, yet they always shocked you because it was so inappropriate. Typical Ten for you.

“Shut up, Ten!” You objected, watching the other performers. You’ve improved in ignoring his remarks over time. That was until Sicheng sat down beside you after his solo and got up in your business. That placed you in the middle of boys from the water sign clan of astrology. They just loved getting down to your love life, going raunchy and whatnot.

“Who’s into dilfs, Ten?”

“A Miss (Y/N) beside you, who met Minji’s dad awhile ago, was basically eye-fucking him.” Ten elaborated, planting his elbows on your leg and gave you a sneaky glare. “Minji’s dad is fine as fuck, guys! I’m telling you, like a literal god! I’m surprised this is the first time he showed up here after 2-3 years?”

“How come (Y/N) is always getting students with good-looking parents? Especially the single moms.” Sicheng slumped his shoulders, attempting to get your attention too. “Is he that hot, (Y/N)?”

“Yah.” Sighing with annoyance, you’ve given up trying to appreciate one of the corps dancers with her rendition of Dulcinea from Don Quixote. “Don’t speak of Johnny like that. You barely know the man, yet you talk about him so unprofessionally."

“Oh, Johnny is his name, huh?” Sicheng sing-songed, bobbing his head. He’s certainly going to stalk him later on social media, you felt it in your chest. Like it was ESPN or something.

“Talking about being unprofessional, yet you’re here referring him as Johnny, not Mr. Seo.” Ten barked back, his lips pursed and one eyebrow lifted.

Just as soon as you could retaliate, the artistic director’s velvety voice boomed the room.

“Alright, thank you to the performers. I will deliberate with the staff and principal dancers over the weekend, and let you know the results on Monday. Now please, let’s proceed to the center.”

Everyone began to spread out on the wide floor, snatching a good position so they could monitor themselves in the mirror. Maybe you’ll defend yourself later after class because now, you needed to beat everyone else and have a crystal-clear view of yourself doing these following exercises.

In the meantime, Johnny was in the middle of driving Minji home. He had a designated chauffeur, but he gave him the night off because he wanted to spend time with Minji. Around this time, she’d be sleeping soundly, but instead, she’s boosting with so much life. She hasn’t even eaten dinner yet, which was the first thing on Johnny’s agenda now.

Playing Coldplay in the car, Minji belted some lyrics from her favorite songs while Johnny smiled to himself while listening to her attentively. Taking a breath, her thoughts reverted to her fantastic ballet teacher and shared them with her father.

“Dad! Don’t you just think Teacher (Y/N) is so cool? Ugh, I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“Oh, to become a ballerina like her, you have to work hard every day and memorize lessons fast. Are you up for it, Minji?”

“Absolutely, dad! I want to pull off perfect jumps and turns like her one day!”

In the other after-school activities Johnny enrolled Minji in the past, none of them compared to the passion she had for ballet. Her work ethic was alike to Johnny’s: if they want something, they’ll do whatever it takes to make it possible.

Aside from being a star student in her school, she’s aiming to be a star ballerina. Being the supportive father he is, Johnny was on board to do what it takes to make it happen. Unlike his parents trying to mold him into the next heir of their company, he’s all ears to the dreams of his daughter. His only dream for her was to be live long and happy, not to merely pass on anything.

Johnny lost so much in his young life, so he doesn’t want to lose Minji in any way. As much as he loves his profession, he wanted to be an active father as much as time allowed it. He mostly received complaints from others that he’s not prioritizing his time well, but after hearing your kind words, this heavy weight on his shoulders decreased. All this doubt started to vanish after meeting you for the first time.

“Dad! Isn’t Teacher (Y/N) so beautiful?” Minji honored whilst gazing at the twinkling night sky. “She loves what she does and shines at it.”

Johnny was accustomed to his female co-workers throwing themselves at him due to his attractiveness, more than flattered even to have them feeling weak for him. Yes, there were times he used it to his advantage, some he frankly turned down.

However, the radiance you carried whether you’re dancing or not was something Johnny couldn’t cease wondering about. Unknown to him, he’s the one getting weak. Behold, an unlocked first for the confident CEO.

“Yes, Minji. I do think Teacher (Y/N) is absolutely beautiful.”

470 notes · View notes

gb-patch · 3 years

Text

Ask Answers: August 8th

Well, doing big posts all together worked for a while but lately I’ve been putting it off because it takes a long time to get them done. I think I’m gonna try switching back to answering asks whenever I can fit it in and posting them one at a time instead of waiting until I’ve filled out one of these major collections.

But for now, here’s more ask answers! Thank you for the questions and for all the kind words along with them ^^.

Hello!! I'm here to ask if its possible to get the game and its dlcs on steam and play it on android?

I’m afraid not. Steam doesn’t have Android builds on their own site and Steam is not cool with keys for other sites being given out for Steam purchases, so you don’t get the Itch version from buying on Steam.

Hello! Sorry to bother you but, I had a question, if we buy the Game on itchio do we get steam keys or would we need to purchase it twice?

You would have to buy it twice if you want it in both places, I’m sorry. To repeat myself a little, Steam doesn’t like the key trading thing. Itch may support giving keys for another site, but the reverse isn’t doable with Steam and Steam doesn’t even really want you to get a Steam key for buying somewhere else either. So we just don’t mess around with that.

hey, sorry if this is frequently asked, but is step 4 free dlc or paid for? some of your sources are contradicting each other.

It’s free! There’s a paid wedding DLC, but Step 4 itself is entirely unpaid.

Hello! I just had a quick question, for the Baxter and Derek DLC's will we be able to confess our feelings to them or let them confess to MC? or will it only be one way? (they confess to MC)

Both type of options will be available!

Hey there! I wanted to ask whether or not the Derek DLC is still on track to be released in August since on the steam discussion board it says it will be released mid 2021. I totally understand if it isn't, I'm just really looking forward to it! If you answer then ty! And keep up the amazing work :D

It’s not, aha. Unfortunately, 2021 wasn’t easier than 2020 as we hoped so things are still slower than planned. It’ll come out late 2021 or early 2022.

Hi! Firstly I just want to say that I LOVE Our Life. I have played a bit of similar games but this one instantly wins for the best one! Everything about it is amazing! I just wanted to ask if Derek would ever lose feelings for MC, like if they make the deal and then MC gets with Cove would he move on? and even if you don't, after "losing contact" would his feeling fade or would he still like MC?

If you don’t really keep in touch with him and clearly move on with your life, Derek will too and he’ll be over it. But if you are still close as best as you can be, he’ll still think the MC is special. Though, he’ll always support your relationship with someone else if that’s what’ll make you happy.

Hello! Sorry if you've answered this before but: 'How's Lee related to us? Though which momma? And does she share our player-chosen last names? Also, do you know if Noelani took Pam's last name or did it happen the other way round?

She’s related to Pamela and Pamela’s last name is the one they use, so the MC has the same last name as Lee.

Will we be able to choose which (they or he) we tend to call Qiu by more often, or will it randomly change depending on the moment?

Qiu knows which pronoun they’re comfortable with at a time and you’ll call them what they’re happy with. And it doesn’t change between lines, it takes multiple scenes or even full Steps for it to switch. So for extended periods Qiu will be totally a guy or fully agender.

Will Step 4 of OL2 have moments?

It’ll be an epilogue like it is in OL1, so it won’t have a bunch of different Moments.

Hello! Just a quick question, is Sunset bird from OL1 based on a real location? If so what's it called? I wanna visit it +_+

ps i love your games so much <3

It isn’t based on one specific town you can go to, but there are a lot of little coastal towns in Cali that have a similar vibe!

Heyaaa ( I hope you're all well ), umm… it might seem kinda stupid to ask but did Patreon members can have a key for the dlc's ( all the steps-released dlc ) even if they became a member this month or later ? (me? saying this cuz it's my case? maybe ;-;), and once again thanks for absolutely all the amazing works on all the games ! u-u

You wouldn’t get the DLCs for backing there. The Patreon is for extra bonus content/early access, rather than being a storefront to purchase the normal DLCs. Rarely we give them out as a side gift, but it hardly happens and if what you want is the DLCs it’s best to ignore the Patreon and buy keys for those directly from Itch or Steam. I’m sorry for the confusion.

Hey y'all, love what youre doing w/Terry. Trans rep outside of player customization is so rare and important to see more of so thank you so much. I do have a question and its that does he have a canon sexuality? I know Miranda was said to be straight ace but I dont believe anything was stated for Terry probably because he wasnt revealed to be a guy which changes things. Im also curious if well get answers on how long hes liked Miranda since he may have liked her in step 3 before she liked him

Terry likes women and Randy likes men! And he did like Miranda back in Step 3.

Will the Wedding Dlc release at the same time as Step 4?

They’ll come out separately with Step 4 releasing first.

I really love Our Life so much! I've spent over 20hours playing it even though I only got it a week ago! I was wondering if I could make a fangame for Our Life with a different love interest but same plot. Next-door neighbors romance, multiple steps, etc? I'll probably make it on Google Slides though-

Sure! I hope you have fun with it and I’m glad you love the game.

How does Cove feel about poly relationships?

He’s got nothing against them for the people they work for, but he’s 100% monogamous and would only be comfortable with a partner who was willing to be monogamous with him.

Idk if this has been answered before but will Step 4 include the option to advance your feelings towards Cove?

Yep, you’ll be able to determine your feelings and what your relationship is.

In step 4 will there be a chosen to say we live with Cove even as just friends?

Yeah, you can choose to live with Cove and that can be done when you’re friends.

I just played the game with the MC and Cove being best friends and omg it’s still so damn cute like the wholesomeness of it all is too much for my heart I swear ^.^ Now with that all said I was wondering can we still marry Cove? if we only love him as a friend like let’s say we’ve made deal with him similar to the one we can make with Derek because let’s real no one could compete with what the MC and Cove have even if they aren’t in love.

It’s great to hear you enjoyed the friendship story! You can live with Cove, but you can’t marry him platonically. Cove has familial affection for the MC if they’re best-est friends. He wouldn’t think to marry someone he loves like family and even grew up with as though they truly were siblings.

Are you still going to be making a DLC for XOBD? :]

Yes! We’re slowing adding voiced lines and fixing errors.

It makes me laugh that Shiloh's last name is Fields because that's what I put as my last name! So in Our Life when he talked about "Ms. Fields" picking him up I was extremely confused, lol. That dude mimics personalities so much that he stole my surname!

Oh, wow, that’s a very funny coincidence, haha.

hi !! i cant seem to be able to get the scene where mc is able to propose to cove despite being at the 'love' stage and telling him i'd want to get married, are there any other details that im missing out on? the options just dont appear at the end...

Maybe you missed telling Cove you were in love with him even if you mentioned wanting to get married or you might’ve accidentally said earlier in the game that you don’t want to progress your relationship further with Cove. We haven’t removed them, so you can get the scene again. It’s just kind of easy to miss since there’s multiple requirements. You can read a little guide in the FAQ.

wait what di you need to do to be able to propose to cove? I've been trying but haven't had much luck

You can check out the FAQ linked above!

does cove only develop a crush on the mc if the mc is also at crush/in love with him?

Technically, yes. We treat the non-romantic relationship options as truly non-romantic since we don’t want to bait and switch people. But there’s nothing wrong with headcanoning that Cove does have feelings developing for the MC even before the MC has.

Is there a way to make/allow Lee and Baxter to date?

No, they just don’t have enough time together.

We also got a group of asks related to Tamarack in OL2, but I’m afraid the way they talked about people with larger bodies made me not want to post their words, even if the person didn’t say they’re trying to be hurtful. I will separate out the core question and answer it though, so people can know that info.

Does Tamarack lose weight in later Steps?

No, she doesn’t. As for the other questions included, to be honest, I don’t have to explain/defend having romance options of different sizes. I’m sorry if you’re dealing with unhappiness that’s connected to body image, if that’s where the negative emotions are coming from, but even so I can’t meet you on that level and pretend it’s a problem that needs an answer. A girl who simply isn’t thin being a main love interest is just not an unreasonable concept. Also, Tamarack isn’t a lesbian. Yes, she can date a female MC, but that doesn’t undo her actual sexuality, so I’m not sure where that one part at the end was coming from.

I wonder... can we "fight" with Qiu over leader status? 👀

Not really, haha. No matter how cool your MC is, they’re never gonna replace Qiu for the other kids around. So you can either partner up with him, follow him too, or not be a part of all that group politics stuff.

So when I play the game, sometimes I mentally call Cove “Covie/Covey” and that made me wonder, how does Cove feel about being nicknamed? Not like Romeo/Space Cadet/etc. but like pet names relating to his actual name

It’d depend on his age, personality, and your relationship with him! When he’s younger he’d probably be embarrassed, when he was grown he’d probably be more casual or happy about it.

will you be able to date baxter in step 3 while at crush with cove (but not dating him ofc) sorry if this has been asked already. i really love baxters step 4 design btw!!

Yeah, you can be crushing on Cove and date Baxter if you weren’t already dating Cove. You just can’t be truly in love with Cove and then switch to Baxter.

I just got my friend into our life, and they adore shiloh and derek sooo will there be more of them in the second game?

I’m afraid not. But you can see plenty more of Shiloh in XOXO Droplets/XOXO Blood Droplets, haha.

I see you haven't gotten any xoxo droplets asks recently but I'm still obsessed with these boys!! I was just wondering if Nate would curse under any circumstance?

Yeah, Nate does use certain swear words (damn, hell, bastard) on very rare occasions.

Hi there! I have a question about the wedding dlc. Will we be able to plan a honeymoon during the planning stages of it or would it be something that Cove and the mc would rather plan later on? Thank you! Absolutly love the game by the way, definitely one of my favorite games!

The focus will be on the wedding day itself. The topic of the honeymoon might come up a bit, but there won’t be any choosing of the exact location and such.

Hi! I have two questions and it's completely understandable if you only answer one/neither and I'm sorry if you've already answered either before! First, is there a set year in which OL:B&A takes place (ex: Step 1 being set in 2010 & Step 2 being set in 2016, etc.) or is it simply up to interpretation? Second, have you guys thought about doing a coming-of-age game where the MC has a tough home life or upbringing? (like one of their parents is an addict, a parent being transphobic whilst the player has the option to be trans, or having friends that are influencing them to do drugs, etc.) That's all! Thanks for making beautiful games. <3

There is a set timeline!

Step 1: 2006 Step 2: 2011 Step 3: 2016 Step 4: 2021

And we don’t currently plan on making a game like that. The Our Life series exists to be a safer environment for people to play around in and if we did do a brand new series that was harsher edged it’d be something more fantastical and/or plot-driven instead of a different type of modern day slice-of-life growing up story. I’m sorry.

i don’t know if you’ve already answered this, but do you have a guess on when phase 4 will come out? as well as ol2? i’m so excited for both of them, the inclusivity in this game is amazing, you guys should be really proud of it!

Step 4 will be coming out very soon! OL2 is gonna take until 2023 to be anywhere near completion. But we might episodically release the Steps one at a time as they get done instead of waiting for three to be finished before launch like we did with the first game.

Hello, I was curious if there was an official or unofficial discord server for the game?

We do have a discord! You can join by clicking this link HERE.

how long do you plan to keep ol's patreon running?

Hopefully for at least a few more years.

Are you considering ever making merch?

Yeah, but I don’t know when it’ll happen or what exactly we’ll make, aha. It’s something we want do, just nothing is set.

hi! i just found out about your game a couple of days ago on tiktok (so sorry if you’ve already answered this question) and i was wondering if y’all are ever planning to release it on iOS?

I have no idea. It’s hard for a small group to get Apple approval and I honestly can’t say if it’ll ever happen or not. Maybe someday, though!

Hi, I love the art style of Our life and I would like to know if the artist has a Twitter? Also, could it be possible to fund more CGs for the game from him/her? So many times, I wish there was one like when the cutscene of the sunshower.

That’s nice of you to offer. He doesn’t have a Twitter, at least not one that’s public enough to be shared with me. And I’m afraid not. The issue is that the CGs take huge amounts of time rather than there not being a budget for it. He’s gotta make CGs for Step 4, the DLCs, and new character sprites, too. There isn’t space in the schedule for even more. Sorry for that.

Hi, how are you?!

Are you planning on accepting new writers or is it always the same people who write your stories??

Thanks!!

Our Life: Beginnings & Always won’t be getting new writers, but we will be hiring a new team of writers for Our Life: Now & Forever eventually!

perhaps this counts as nsfw and I'm sure it has been answered before but what does Cove prefer, chests/boobs or butts? or perhaps both :3c thank you for this wonderful game (and the patreon bonus moment, it was worth all the waiting and more ♥)

He’s a “chests of all shapes and sizes” kind of guy, haha.

i was wondering- did any of the writers actually grow up by the beach? as someone who's lived in a beach town all their life it really did feel nostalgic to play through our life 1

I was born and raised in Cali! Though, not right by the beach. We still had to make trips out, but the setting is based on my own childhood memories of small beach towns we went through.

In Derek’s upcoming DLC, will we be able to reference the pact we made as teens? (love olba and xod/xobd so much btw you’re literally amazing)

Yep, you will be able to talk about that!

Oh, sorry about the Cole being secretly L ask, then!

If you wanted context: Death Note is about this one guy who finds a notebook that kills anyone who you write the name of in there. The guy eventually develops a God Complex and starts mass killing criminals and stuff. L is the one trying to find out who is killing all these people.

Me and my sister first joked about it because I couldn't remember how to translate a word about the way Cove was sitting, so I just did the pose, and it looked a lot like how L himself sits! Then we just snowballed from there, with more and more nonsense connections.

That’s okay! Thanks for explaining. I’m sorry I didn’t know what you meant.

#our life #ask #gb patch #gb patch games

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meliorist-midoriya · 3 years

Text

chasing the sun

synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au

warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.

word count: 11.7k

a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt!

important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

crossposted on Ao3

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden.

He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.

It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.

(Oh, what he would give to join them.)

Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.

He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.

“Good morning, madam.”

“Good morning—”

He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to.

That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.

A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.

Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.

The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.

“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”

He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward.

A minute passed…

Then another…

Then five…

Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.

(In his world, losing meant death.)

Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.

So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.

“You’re a new face in the palace.”

With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but).

“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”

Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly.

Two could play at this game.

Well, now, this was new.

Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.

“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.

“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”

You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.

“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?

You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.

Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past.

The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.

You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort.

Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life?

Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.

Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.

He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.

“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier.

“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”

Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.

“I’ll live for you, then.”

And with a smile, you fall in love.

(Keigo falls even harder.)

【 ☀︎ 】

He should have known.

“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”

He really should have known.

“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”

Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.

“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”

Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him.

(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)

The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.

How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.

(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)

The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.

“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.”

Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.

“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”

The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.

Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.) only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment.

More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.

I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—

“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”

Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.

“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”

Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.

“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”

The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.

(He was.)

“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”

Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.

“Done saying your prayers?”

Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt.

“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”

Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.

“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”

He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.

“Must you be so dark?”

“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”

The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.

I really… should’ve known…

“Keigo!”

Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.

“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in.

It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once—

No, for eternity.

The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens.

That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.

They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day.

But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.

“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.

“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.

“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”

“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance.

Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.

“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.”

Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.

“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”

“Harsh.”

The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town.

A sleepy, familiar town.

Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give.

They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.

“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.

There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.

“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.”

Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.

“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”

“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”

“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.

“God, her ginger candy was the best.”

“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.

“That was ages ago!”

“And you still react like a little boy!”

Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.

(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)

He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.

“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”

“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”

“Wonderful job of being annoying.”

Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.

“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”

“What?”

“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?”

Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.

“Not so little anymore, Granny.”

“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”

“Granny!”

“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.

“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”

Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.

“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”

The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.

“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”

The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar.

(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)

However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.

“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—”

The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other.

“...Keigo?”

Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”

His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.

“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.

“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”

“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”

“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.”

Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?

“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”

“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.

Probably both.

(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)

A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.

“...Did we just get kicked out?”

“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you.

Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.

Talk.

“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do.

Nice going there, Keigo, really.

“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”

You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?

For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.

“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.

“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt.

“What, so, we both had boring lives?”

Far from boring.

“...Yeah, I guess so.”

You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.”

“And how would you do that?”

“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”

“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”

“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, coming.”

Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.

(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)

For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.

He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.

“You still suck!”

“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”

You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape.

This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.

Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.

The joy he now knew was to be found in you.

“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”

“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”

And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?

“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.

“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.

Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?

“Lead the way, then.”

There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on.

He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—

The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.

“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Like you’d ask me first.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.

Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.

(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)

Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.

“Keigo?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.

“Will you come home?”

Home.

A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.

To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.

To him, “home” meant you.

So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.

“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”

He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer.

Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.

“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”

Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”

Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.

And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.

Dreamed, even.

What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.

He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.

(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)

Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.

One… two… three…

“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”

You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.

“—but don’t.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.

He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.

(Would it ever end?)

How long has it been since the first shot?

(Too long.)

Would he live to see the sunset?

(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)

The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death. What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.

Something like the will to survive.

The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.

Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—

The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building.

Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!

In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city.

Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right.

If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth.

He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.

“Hey, man.”

(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)

Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.

“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”

“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?”

“Shut up.”

“You know you don’t want me doing that.”

(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)

Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement.

Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—

“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”

Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.

“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.

“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”

“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”

Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.

“Ah—”

“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.”

Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.

“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”

“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.

“Just a couple more times.”

“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.

“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”

Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.

“I won’t.”

“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”

“...Just do it yourself.”

“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”

His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.

“Kei...go?”

【 ☀︎ 】

Waiting was agony.

You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you.

Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.

All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies.

If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.

Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.

(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)

Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?

Then, they came.

A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.

There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.

How many men did they lose?

(Too many.)

You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.

One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped.

And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.

Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.

It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.

It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.

It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.

Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.

Keigo would never get to go home.

He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms.

(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)

He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.

He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.

A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.

A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.

A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.

The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.

“Everything good with you, Professor?”

“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.”

Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was.

He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better.

He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.

The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.

(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)

All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.

At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.

With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load.

Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all?

No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox.

Hell, he expected them to.

What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?

Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message.

A schoolwide email? Okay, th—

The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.

“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”

“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you.

The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.

A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.

After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.

Will be missed…

Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he?

Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture).

All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.

The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.

Professor Takami had work to get done.

Keigo could mourn later.

Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind.

As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.

Did you go through this too? When he—

The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.

【 ☀︎ 】

When did I…?

He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise.

I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?

He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around.

“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”

“What…?”

“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”

Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.

“Three.”

Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.

It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.

Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.

He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.

Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.

Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.

His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.

“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”

He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.

There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront.

A flower shop, in this secluded side street?

“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.

“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.

Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.

“Uh—”

“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”

Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.

“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”

She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch.

Right on time.

【 ☀︎ 】

A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.

Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.

“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.

It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

Keigo.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.

“One…”

I want to see you.

“Two…”

I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.

“Three—”

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.

It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.

“Y/N!”

The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.

The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.

He was home.

notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?

#takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha oneshot #hawks x reader angst #mha oneshot #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #reincarnation au #from the typewriter #pocuties #cw death #tw death #cw blood #tw blood #cw war #tw war #if you'd like me to add a warning please let me know!

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Text

Yandere!General x reader

Tw: female reader, mentions of mass murder, abuse of power, monarchism, toxic mindsets, obsessive behavior

It had been a few exhausting days since the world ended. Well, at least it felt like the world as you knew it had ended. There were already people trying to pass the borders and being brutally murdered for doing so. The newspapers stopped coming up and the only ones you managed to get your hands on were filled with filthy propaganda about the new regime - all big colourful titles and promises of the bright future to come. And yet another elderly politician found strangled in his sleep, another editor murdered or behind the bars, another case of property stolen "in the name of the national good". It was nothing more than a wicked person rising to the top, but everyone felt powerless to stop him. To stop them.

You never cared about politics. Why would you? They never involved you directly. You never had to worry about the social issues, the corruption in the government and even now you weren't supposed to be the one to suffer from its oppression. The moment you heard the screams outside your house though, suddenly everything became too personal. So naturally you went out to see what's happening. Maybe you could help. Maybe this time you wouldn't be just a silent pawn.

The moment you stepped outside, you were met once again with someone's piercing pained moans. You didn't have to use much of your imagination to what was going on as you quickly looked down at the cold muddy ground. Your voice died down at your throat and your heart skipped a beat. It was your father. The only person who had believed in you and showed you love in your darkest most pitiful moments. And now he was kneeling in the mud as a man in a black uniform hit him over and over in the guts. Another five of the soldiers were guarding the scene as to draw as little attention as possible. And yet they caught yours.

Finally the torture ended as the old man lost consciousness and closed his eyes.

"What are you doing!? " You shouted frantically, now finding the courage you needed to interfere. "What has he done to deserve this?" The tears were silently streaming down your pale face, lost its colour due to the fear, hunger and misery. A tall broad figure slowly approached from the shadows of the nearby ruins. You could never forget his name and his face still haunted your nightmares to this day. It was Evan - a troubled guy you had made friends with while you served in the military years ago. He had always been particular about his beliefs and rarely tried to hide them but it never crossed your mind how powerful he could have gotten. How much damage he could do when left alone with his acid thoughts. And it didn't help the realisation that you two had separated ways on a bad note.

"Hello, darling." Evan spoke firmly, having met your stern gaze. He cracked a small playful smile, showing his sharp teeth. He had you exactly where he wanted you. "Why is that you finally decided to come see me after all those years?" The man chuckled under his breath. "Had a... change of heart, perhaps?"

Your hand instinctively turned into a fist, but you decided to calm down before doing anything you would regret. After all he had come with guards and you had no one on your side. He could kill you and nobody would know. Nobody would care.

"You came here out of your own will, you know that very well, general." You spat the title like a curse. "Or are you the ruler now?" Your temper was getting the best of you but it was hard to stay calm when the bloodied bruised body of your father was laying mere inches away. "Should I call you Your Majesty? Are you doing this because of your twisted idea of justice, Evan, or because of this new power you have?" You finally shouted at him, crying and sobbing along the way.

At first the man remained motionless but just a second after he burst into uncontrollably loud laughter. Now he was smiling from side to side, grinning cruelly. You were a spectacle. Evan got closer to you with one mere step and pushed your chin up with his cold slim fingers. He seemed ecstatic.

"Y/N, you know I would never hurt an innocent person, no?" His eyes gleamed with a blue flame, threatening to burn down everything you had worked for during his absence. "But your father here held back important information from us and this simply can't go without some... discipline. Don't you agree?" Evan looked you up and down, licking his lips in a sick manner. You felt like a helpless rabbit, stuck in the lion's crawls. The man's pleased expression suddenly turned dark and cold. His emotionless eyes went from icy blue to black. "You ran away from me. You were the only one to ever show me kindness and yet you still tried to leave me behind like everybody else." Now feeling more and more annoyed, the former general grabbed you by the collar and lifted you in the air. Unfortunately, he had gotten even stronger than before. "But not anymore." The man suddenly snapped, letting you go. You fell to the dusty ground and tried to fix your intense breathing. All the bravery had left your body the moment he touched your neck. "Now that I have my perfect nation, my paradise, I need a queen to rule with. And you will be mine."

You closed your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to hide your tears. Evan was like a bloodthirsty piranha living off your weakness and you had no intention of satisfying his lust for fear.

"What happens if I decline?" You asked quietly. You weren't sure whether you actually wanted to hear the answer or not.

"I think you already know, darling." The man was smiling again now, almost in a sheepishly manner, as he looked right at your father, who was still unconscious. Hint taken.

Evan held his hand out to you. You nodded carefully and took it, standing up on your feet. It was fine. It was okay. You could do this if it meant your closed ones were safe. You were used to losing anyways.

"All I ever wanted was you." The man said at last as he pulled you into his surprisingly warm embrace. He smelt like the night, like death did. "And even if it takes thousand more slaughters, I wouldn't stop at anything to have you. Never forget that."

You were certain you never would.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere prompt #yandere general #yandere oc

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userjoel · 3 years

Text

[ drabble ♡ lingering stares & unexpected blushes ] ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

[ prompt ] : “quit smiling at me like that. i can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.” /// you help tom rehearse his lines for ‘far from home’ but he looks so cute standing there in his glasses and you just can’t help but stare

[ pairing ] : tom holland x gender neutral reader

[ warnings ] : tom drops the f bomb once or twice

[ word count ] : 1.5k

[ notes ] : i know how unrealistic it is for someone else to have access to a marvel movie script like y/n in this story when even the actors get fake versions sometimes but!! for the sake of the story pls ignore this minor inconvenience </3

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“And this...is Mr. Beck.” You dramatically enunciate, trying your best to make sure your voice sounds deep like Samuel L. Jackson’s.

And maybe your voice change was just that convincing, because Tom doesn’t seem even the slightest bit distracted by your acting skills. He continues to stay in character, his eyebrows knitting together instead in response to the line.

“Mysterio?”

“What?” You change your voice again to one that (you thought) might be more appropriate for Jake Gyllenhaal.

Tom gently shakes his head, a shy smile appearing on his lips. “Uh, doesn’t matter. It’s just what my friends have been calling you.”

You’re currently lying on your stomach across the plush expanse of your living room couch, reading off the weighty packet of papers clutched in your hand as your boyfriend, glasses perched on his nose, paces back and forth in front of the fireplace not too far away from you. You’d glance over at him in between lines, noticing the way he’d sometimes lick his lips or run his fingers through unruly hair whenever he felt his next line slipping away from his memory.

It was common for you to help Tom run through his lines every once in a while, but today was a rare occasion when he didn’t need to be on set. The opportunity had you hoping it’d mean a chance to get his mind off of something other than work. But when you spotted the massive, bookmarked script sitting unattended on the kitchen island in the morning, you realized halfway through your coffee that that option was off the table.

So, here you were — now working through your second cup of the day — helping Tom do his self-assigned homework.

“You can call me Quentin.”

You squint for a moment to read the stage directions that follow before extending your hand towards your boyfriend, who catches the gesture from his peripheral. You raise an eyebrow, a serious look in your eyes to match the graveness of the scene. Tom notices, and you swear you could see the corner of his lips twitch up ever so slightly. But it’s gone before you could say for sure.

He closes the distance, gently taking hold of your outstretched hand before shaking it with a kind of firmness. You smile at him when your eyes meet. He doesn’t return it, but there’s a tenderness and twinkle in his eyes as they rest on you that you knew you’d never trade for anything else in the world.

It feels like he holds both the gaze and your hand for a second too long. You have half a mind to pull him into the spot on the couch next to you, but you think better of it and let go.

“Um…” Your vision scrambles back to the script, trying to find where you left off. “Oh — Saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you in my world.”

“Thanks. Wait, I’m sorry. 'Your world?'” Tom doesn’t return to the same spot where he was pacing just moments ago. Instead he stands a few steps away from you, arms crossed in concentration, looking down at his feet or glancing outside the window from time to time.

“There are multiple realities, Peter. This is Earth Dimension 616. I’m from Earth-833.” You find it slightly more difficult for you to refocus. The brief moment you shared earlier has made you lose the flourish you’d been previously putting into your recitations, the lines come out more monotone.

And you know. You know you should be helping him practice his lines for this very, very important multi-million dollar movie, but there were far more pressing things at hand for you.

Like how cute your boyfriend looked.

He’s dressed simply; a buttery-soft white t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. But it’s less about that and more about how he looks all together — the glasses; the curls of his hair; the way the fabric of his sleeves clings to his muscular arms; how he seems to fidget when he senses you staring at him for a little too long.

He’s doing it now: Tom doesn’t look up at you, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other instead. But with a pleasant chuckle of disbelief, he’s back to being Peter: “I’m sorry — you’re saying there’s a multi-verse?”

You smile and bite your bottom lip when you notice the sudden transition in character, head craning to the side a bit as you continue to look at him, trying to catch his gaze. It’s obvious he knows what you’re doing, and it’s beginning to get to him. He can feel your gaze heating his skin up; the rosy tips of his ears betray his otherwise external nonchalance.

How could you not love the effect you had on him? It felt that much more special because he seemed to get worked up over random little things you usually didn’t even know you were doing. He could look so put together on set and in his element, but one innocent look from you was all it took to break his character.

“I thought that was just theoretical. I mean, that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity. We’re talking about an internal —”

“Eternal.” You gently correct him, the small smile never faltering from your lips.

Tom finally glances up at you, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Fuck. I always get that bit mixed up. Uh — right. So it’s — I mean, that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity; we’re talking about an external —”

“Eternal, babe.” You giggle, sitting up slightly as your eyes take a look at the script. “It’s the eternal inflation system? Whatever that means.”

“Bloody — eternal. Eternal eternal eternal.” Tom’s eyebrows knit together in frustration as he repeats the words to drill it into his memory. You continue to watch with amusement from your front row seat. It was always fascinating (and maybe just a tiny bit attractive?) to see him switch from his English dialect to an American one so casually. One saw little use for movies when you were dating a talented actor.

“Darling?" Tom's voice snaps you out of your daze.

“Hm?”

“I love you, y’know that, yeah? I love and absolutely adore you for being a godsend and helping me run through my lines… but you’ve got to quit smiling at me like that.”

You tuck your lips between your teeth for a moment to vainly try and stifle the smile, eyes widening with feigned innocence and confusion. “Me? Smile? I have literally never smiled at you in my entire life, Thomas.”

That makes him chuckle, shaking his head as he finally gives in and sits down by your side, his body sinking into the couch. You can’t help but laugh too, turning face him.

He cocks his head slightly, softened eyes fixated on your lips. “Mm… See what I mean? That smile. Right there.” His thumb and index finger carefully grab your chin as his voice lowers. “I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

And suddenly, it’s your turn to forget what to say next. You blush under his stare.

Your boyfriend’s eyes glimmer as they look into yours. But they disappear behind closed eyelids as he draws you in to gently kiss you.

The soft petals of his lips don’t linger against yours for too long, but the physical affection remains in the way his forehead leans against yours. Against the silence of the moment, you feel him draw in a breath to say something, and you swear it's gonna be some romantic one-liner. But instead he says in a Queens accent: “We’re talking about an eternal inflation system. And how does that even work with all the quantum… It’s insane!”

“Did I get that right?” One eye peeks open for confirmation.

And just like that, it's back to business. You hum, pulling away from him to grab the script from the coffee table. Your eyes quickly scan the page. “Mhm! And then Mysterio says… Don’t ever apologize for being the smartest person in the room.”

“All in a day’s work.” Tom chuckles, and you can tell by the way his shoulders relax that he’s done — for now. His arms wrap around you as he falls back on the couch with you lying on his chest. “Eternal inflation system, initial singularity, quantum… Y’know sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened if I auditioned to be Groot instead.”

“Hm,” you purse your lips in thought. “Well, you’d certainly make a very handsome tree, I can tell you that much.”

Tom feigns a delighted gasp. “You mean that?”

“Of course, I mean look at you. It’s obvious you were born to play the part.”

“Ha." You watch the way his eyes crinkle as he entertains the idea. "Honestly, you’re gonna be the reason why I turn into a big diva one of these days,” He mumbles as he leaves a peck on your nose.

“Don’t get so ahead of yourself, champ.” The corners of your lips turn up as you reassuringly pat his chest. “You might want to start improving your line memorization skills before you start thinking that far ahead.”

Tom groans as he tosses his head back, his eyes screwed shut. “You hurt me, baby. Really. You do.”

“I love you too.” You giggle as you sit up to straddle his waist, and you pick up the script one final time. “Now, do you want to run that last line by me again?”

#tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #hope writes

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lordymaru · 3 years

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I'm about to refute this entire essay with the simple explanation being:

The only interaction we've seen of these two is when she's a freaking 8 year old. Your self insert shows no boundaries.

And this is probably the last time I'll make a post about the stupidity behind the way the pair is viewed:

Note: I know there's people out there with a brain who ship these two in a more conventional way. In the end you do you, ship whatever you want, no one can prevent you from doing that, just don't be gross about it.

One of the parts being the Significance of their first encounter:

She’s a poor peasant girl who’s suffered immense trauma, suffering, and loneliness. Her initiative to help Sesshomaru came from her generosity

Exactly, she's alone for her family had been killed before her eyes, the villagers treat her like garbage. When she meets Sess he's wounded and simply in a bad state, both mentally and physically. Both of them are, the difference being he's a demon, a powerful one and for him to have ended in such a bad shape only stabbed at his pride- Rin on the other hand is a child, a human tiny child who is vulnerable and to him she poses no threat. Both of them are weak then.

At this point, it’s observable that despite knowing her story, her scars, and her difficulties, humans do not even empathize, let alone sympathize with Rin. It is the feudal era, after all. She’s a young, disabled orphan and the villagers only see her for what she lacks: a voice, a family, and a place of belonging.

Again with your feudal era shit. I can assure you the world is just as ugly today as it was before you and I existed. Next.

When he asks about her bruises, this is the first time anyone had ever afforded her a second glance.

This was a huge step forward for Sess, a huuuuuuge one for he showed interest in another living creature, not just any creature but a human. And for her it was probably like Christmas, for no one had showed her any mercy or interest. Ok you get a point. But oh, boy, how I'm about to spit on the next one:

The audience can see Sesshomaru calculate her body language, recognizing that she is mute. Instead of pressing her further or ignoring her outright, he attempts to comfort her (in his own way), making her feel that it is okay if she chooses not to answer him; that her desire to reply to him should only be a desire, not an obligation. I think, on one hand, that was the first moment of something that would resemble compassion that Sesshomaru had ever administered, trying to put himself in her shoes — if someone had asked him to do something that required, for example, his left arm, he probably would have appreciated them saying “you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to” so to provide him agency for something that he actually cannot do. And the same goes for Rin. He recognizes her disability, maybe even resonates with it and decides to empower her with a choice. Choice is important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic and it’s a word that will come up often.

Ok why are you comparing the loss of his arm to her not being able to talk? Not all disabilities are the same, you moron. Or am I dumb for thinking this way? If so, feel free to call me out on my lack of common sense kr whatever you wanna call it. Sess physically couldn't do shit with his left arm because well- it was gone! That's a physical disability. Rin had "lost" her voice after what she witnessed and so she wouldn't speak anymore. Have you heard of Psychogenic Dysphonia? If not, you can click here and give it a reading or do your own research. The more you know: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0892199703000158

So you say he "empowers her with a choice" that is "important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic" let me get this straight, a choice because why? She's a child? A female? Because you said so yourself, it's the Feudal Era after all and therefore women had no choice in life, no voice, no agency, no nothing. So he was being magnanimous then? You know... This is where you start edging into the gr00ming territory. Can't you see? No? Alright, moving on.

BRUH WHAT THE FUCK?! Are you fucking good? See how you self insert? Bye. Next

The next time Sesshomaru sees Rin, it is suggested that he actively sought her, whether it be by curiosity or concern for well-being

He did... It is not suggested, he actually did asdfhkl. For both curiosity and he probably was worried. He also states he wants to test out his sword, what a perfect chance to do so for Rin is pretty much dead and that's the only way to make his sword work. So she was both being a guinea pig and an itch he wasn't quite sure how to scratch. Next.

Silence Rin.

Rin screams endlessly, annoying Sesshomaru. Firstly, this is the first time we hear him call her by her name. Secondly, Sesshomaru is visibly annoyed by her noises, however, he does not tell her to “shut up” as he normally would with Jaken or even InuYasha. He simply says “enough of that Rin, stop it.” (In Japanese he says, “Silence, Rin. You make too much noise.”) Even analyzing the Japanese dialogue, it is evidently softer than Sesshomaru’s usual ‘kisama’ (貴樣) manner of speech that we see depicted usually. This is the first time he’s had a companion who is not a demon, someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return. His softer tone is a logical deduction to make.

Ok... "someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return." Bruh... As if he would even consider meeting someone's expectations. Are you sure you're talking about Sess? Another thing is, he always speaks in a calm tone, he rarely yells or loses his composure- he had no reason to be rude to her either, you're excusing his regular behavior simply because she ain't Jaken. Anything else?

Rin doesn't change Sesshomaru overnight, it's a gradual and long process

Well duh!!! Just like you don't lose the pounds you gained from eating in one sit 12 donuts a week ago. Stating the obvious and for what? What's exactly your mf point?

The silence part is important, idk how to tell you there is a power imbalance in their relationship from the moment he tells her to be quiet. He didn't say please, he didn't ask her to, he told her to be quiet. Like a parent would, if I could count the times my mom told me to shush.... That's your first indicator he is not her friend, he is not her equal.

Letting you Be Yourself: The Panther Demon Arc

the first frame the audience sees in the anime sets the scene, painting the Sessshomaru entourage in a serene manner, indicating a level of comfort between group members (episode 75). This is vastly different from our last depiction of Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship. In episode 44, he was unable to withstand her (albeit annoying) childish antics. But here, it’s observable that Sesshomaru can accept her and her package of unconventional fun. Not only does he tolerate and even more so, accept Rin, but he accepts her influence on his vassal, Jaken and allows them to be free around him.

Is called developing patience. I can assure you that when you're a parent or an older bro/sis and your kid/younger sibling is noisy af you either learn to tolerate that or get used to it for kids are kids abd you have to let them be kids. Next.

She's a child, she's not stupid.

The Abducted Rin: Calling her Name

The respect that Sesshomaru shows Rin is insurmountable. However, the InuYasha franchise is clever to portray the subtlety of Sesshomaru’s respect for her. KV on Twitter points out how highly he regards his companion and never relegates her to anything less than the value that she as a person embodies (@KVndie via Twitter). He consistently humanizes her.

He only sees how important she is to him after her ass dies a second time. What do you mean? He respects her enough to not coddle her, she is independent and taught her to be self sufficient from the very start. That's respect. He consistently humanizes her because... She ... Is ... Human! OMG WHAT A SHOCKER!

As Naraku remarks on his hostage to Sesshomaru, "Naturally, the girl you're looking for is not here…,” he continues, “the girl is in custody outside of the castle..." Naraku never makes an attempt to give her personhood, leaving her unnamed, disposable, and relegating her to a mere "girl." But Sesshomaru doesn’t take any of this. He is a cold-hearted Daiyokai, yet he still makes an effort and upholds his principle to refer to her as Rin — not a replaceable “girl.”

Naraku is a mf genius. It didn't quite click until now he wanted to see if she was important or not to him and to what extent. For he planned his moves that way, making people turn against one another. While he wouldn't have made Rin turn against Sess he set everything up so he would end up wanting to kill Kohaku and in doing so, Inugang would have engaged against Sess.

Sesshomaru’s insistence on using Rin’s name isn’t only highlighted in this isolated incident though. It pays off. It is an ongoing theme in their dynamic throughout the series.

That's her name ... How you want him to call her? Baby?

I could go on and on but... This is a fucking essay. And then I stumble against more bullcrap:

The second point I want to highlight here is Sesshomaru’s reaction to Rin’s fall and her risky expedition. At this point, it’s unquestionable that Rin has a special place in his heart.

Of course she has a special spot in his heart. I won't deny that. What worries me is how you're trying to justify the way she's important to him since she was a child. As if his way of seeing her had changed.

I'm gonna disagree by agreeing with you in a few pointers. Kagome and Kikyo were rivals, they both romantically love the same guy. Kagome being the only one who could save Kikyo chooses to help her, knowing damn well Inuyasha would have suffered if Kikyo had died- further more, if it was in Kagome's hands to do something about it.

Rin on the other hand, I will applaud to her how she grew past her fear of Kagura after being kidnapped by her, she saw her body in the river and said fuck it and did her best to try to pull her from the water. I loved how stubborn and brave she was, even tho Sess had to pull everyone out of the water- she deserves a gold star. You go baby girl!!!

Rin later makes a cheeky comment, noting Kagura’s romantic interest in Sesshomaru. Jaken brushes this off as childish naivety. But for the spectator, this establishes two things: (1) That Rin does not see Kagura as a rival for Lord Sesshomaru’s attention, let alone affection; and (2) that Rin is still a child. Rin is certainly a child, with a youthful and fresh outlook on life that brings out the best in people. But even as a child, her relationship with Sesshomaru is incredibly healthy, clear, and surprisingly communicative.

Why would she? She's not a spoiled brat

Nah? I thought her double D indicated otherwise. OF COURSE SHE'S A MF CHILD.

Why do you keep mentioning is healthy? Do you need reassurance of it? Communicative in what way? Cuz if you wanna talk about communication let's talk about how he didn't even acknowledge her ass when she gave birth. He didn't even say her name, didn't even look at her. Tell me now how they are communicative and healthy?

I could go on, I really but all I'm getting from this load of bullshit I'm forcing myself to read is how you do in fact need to reassure yourself thr ship is god tier and is... How you said it was? Ah, healthy.

Anyways, thanks for reading and if you see any typo ... My apologies, I tried. Also if you have any input or I was out of line in some way, my apologies once more.

#anti sessrin #antisessrin #anti-sessrin

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heyitsmerose · 3 years

Text

Russian Roulette | Mafia!Seonghwa

Pairing: Mafia!Seonghwa x Assassin/Sniper!Reader

Genre: Angst, Mafia!

Word Count: 11.2k

Summary: A part of the infamous Park gang, your life is never short of crazy. You've never met the man himself, but tonight something is different. He accompanies the rest of the gang to one of your usual Friday night outs. It all goes south however, as you discover the night doesn't turn out as it's supposed to, a dangerous obstacle in your way. You are forced to pick between the lives of your boss, your best friends and young boy in a menacing game of Russian Roulette.

Warnings/Disclaimer: I am aware the Mafia life is nothing like I am portraying it. It is definitely not full of attractive, young, single people and many nasty/dirty things happen behind the scenes. Furthermore this is quite a serious topic as some people lose their lives over this. I will not be portraying the reality of mafia gangs, instead just an idealised version (thus remember, none of this is real). That being said, a little imagination and creativity never hurt anyone did it? Also this is my second SeonghwaxMafia fic oops.

Blood + Wounds

Mafia + Gangs

Guns + Weapons

Underage Drinking + Assault

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Youtube Playlist

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|◁ II ▷| *I've spent a few weeks on this, I'm sorry if there are spelling errors, I've read the entire thing maybe 5-6 times.

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Friday. 6 pm. After-work hours. What were you doing? What every other normal friend group would do; go to the nearby bar to relax. Except you weren't normal. You and 14 or so others in the bar at the moment, had a dirty secret. You were a part of a gang, a mafia gang to be exact. In all honesty, unlike the movies or stories that had portrayed them, the public rarely knew about mafia gangs, let alone knew if they existed. You could roam around freely without the need to worry about someone recognizing you. No one would know that such a pretty face hid such a dark secret.

Besides, this was your lifestyle now. You knew the gang was political and focused on some power struggle but you couldn't care less. Frankly, the only reason you joined the gang was that you were broke. You were introduced to it after you stumbled into this exact bar at the age of 16, wanting to become a bartender as you knew it paid well. You tried applying for the job but it turned out you were underage and couldn't work at the bar yet. While you were slapped by reality, however, someone was watching your every move. She was young too, maybe 15 or 16 and she had noticed you the moment you entered the bar/club. Not too many new people came along so she was intrigued. Immediately when she sensed your aura and your personality, she knew you'd fit in well with the gang.

She noticed how confidently you carried yourself and noticed your dark fashion choice. She stared as you made your way to the counter, swaying your hips as you got the attention of the bartender. The way, you leaned against the counter cooly, your lips parted slightly as you waited for a response. As she kept looking at you you looked back, feeling someone glare holes into the back of your skull. You noticed a young girl, hair a burgundy color with full black clothes. She smiled at you softly and you only raised your eyebrows before rolling your eyes and averting eye contact. What a badass personality you had. Perfect.

Despite really wanting a friend in the gang, and wanting to recommend you to the boss, she couldn't. Alas, she was only a young hacker and her position was not too significant. What she didn't expect was for you to come up to the group yourself, and introduce yourself. You got your response from the manager, and it was not one you were too happy with, you scoffed and turned on your heel, looking for a way to better your situation and rotten mood. She picked up her drink and gulped it down after you looked away. She looked back at you and you were gone. Her eyes widened as she sighed. She knew you'd get along but she was never going to see you again. The last thing she expected was to hear a voice from near the central table.

"Listen up people. Is this some sort of badass, thug gig? Are yall hiring? Can I be a part of this?" You announced. She spat out her drink and choked, hearing your words. Not only were you an outsider intruding on their business, but you had also shamed the gang in front of the underboss, one of the people present there.

Being somewhat new herself, She got nervous thinking of the consequences you'd face for messing with the mafia world. She heard a deep chuckle from behind her, somewhere and chills ran down her spine.

"Actually, we do have an opening" One of the taller males whispered in a low voice. At this point, no one could tell if he was being serious or whether he just wanted to chop your head off. She gripped her drink harder and stared at both of you. She noticed it was none other than the boss's right-hand man and most trusted member, the underboss, San. Should anything happen to the boss, the gang would be given to San.

You twirled a piece of your hair in between your fingers as you smiled back. You weren't intimidated. Besides, he looked no more than around 5 years older than you. You stepped closer, staring into his sparkling, yet cold brown eyes. You noticed how his hand gravitated dangerously close to your personal space and you were slightly more alert. Through the corner of your eye, you noticed how his hand was moving closer to your waist but none of you broke eye contact. Before his hand made contact with your waist, you grabbed his wrist. The hand that was twirling the piece of hair swiftly snapped down, grabbing his wrist tightly. His eyes widened and he tried pulling away gently while you kept the firm grip, not breaking eye contact. The others around you gasped but you kept glaring at him while he had an amused smirk on his face.

"What kind of opening?" You gritted out. Sure, you were desperate, but you weren't going to let people throw you around and use you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to assert dominance but he just looked at you and tilted his head. A smile broke out on his face, a genuine one this time. You loosened your grip, letting go of him, still a little cautious as he simply massaged his wrist, still maintaining a smile on his face.

"I think you'll like it more than you think"

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Although you had originally joined because you needed money. You found that this lifestyle had fit you more than you thought. You enjoyed the thrill and you couldn't imagine yourself working anywhere else. It had been around 5 years since you joined and you were now 21. Meanwhile, the burgundy-haired girl, Ashe, became your best friend and you even lived together. The bond you shared was to die for, you loved each other to bits but also were each other's biggest supporters. You maintained your bitchy persona and starting rubbing off on Ashe too. Soon, she also developed a colder more confident aura. You were with her through thick and thin. Your position now was a spy and secondary shooter. Despite shooting not being your main pursuit, out of the gang, you were one of the most skilled in using them. Some even compared you to the boss, but you shrugged them off. San was for sure the best shooter out of the entire gang though.

Surprisingly, San, the underboss, who you found was 22 at the time was now 27. You had developed a close bond. Your relationship consisted of a lot of teasing and inside jokes as well as a lot of protectiveness from San. Although your relation started rough, it slowly transitioned from mean comments to teasing names and now playful banter. You had a sibling relationship and he was like the brother you never had. You both were the best with guns in your entire gang so you bonded quite a lot as you spent a lot of time training and practicing together. Not to mention when you'd both geek out over specific new models that were brought into the weaponry.

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Back to the present, you were at the usual bar. After joining the gang, you quickly realized that this was the go-to spot for after-work hours. It wasn't mandatory to come here, but it was kind of a tradition every Friday to come and just let loose for a bit. Most of the gang was here and it was usually the same people every time. Today though, something was different. The boss had come in. To outsiders it would seem casual, as if a normal friend group was getting wasted, to everyone in the gang though, you knew that was far from the truth.

The boss had never come with you guys, and although it was after working hours, you all couldn't help but be on your best behavior. He had often heard that his gang members would meet up after work on a friendly basis and he wanted to know what this was about. He heard San talking about it during work once and was intrigued ever since. Thus, here you were... here he was... along with the 14 or so others who usually came to the bar.

To be completely honest, coming to the bar was your favorite part of your job, scratch that, your entire week. You looked forward to it all week and when it finally came you let loose. It was a known fact that you and San were the crazy daredevils of the group. You both had absolutely no fear or shame in the things you did. Today though, you both had tried to be on your best behavior. Despite being his right-hand man, San was still a little intimidated by Seonghwa and you often used to playfully gossip about him, so you both made sure to behave today, or at least tried...

Seonghwa stuck out like a sore thumb. It was clear no one was expecting him to come, and to be honest, nobody wanted him to come either. He was leaning against a counter, eyes scanning the crowd carefully while sipping a rather small glass of whiskey. Typical Seonghwa, being cautious and defensive even off the job. You hadn't had too many personal encounters with Seonghwa, you had just seen him around a bunch.

Meanwhile, although you and San had agreed to tone it down a bit, you couldn't help it. Drunk was an understatement. You rushed over to the front as soon as the adrenaline hit you and had roughly shoved some people off the raised platform of the dance floor. You were shouting random lyrics into the crowd and hyping everyone up while pulling a few random strangers onto the stage. After swaying your hips a bunch and screaming song lyrics into strangers' faces, you realized this still wasn't enough. You staggered to the DJ and snatched one of the many mics and went back to the stage.

Acquired with a new toy to distract you, you began to get everyone's attention.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen" You slurred into the mic. By now, most of the gang members had gotten used to your crazy shenanigans and didn't mind. Although many were initially afraid of San, you had defiantly changed him for the better. He finally found someone to match his energy and charisma and he let loose a little, finally free to show his true self. Everyone had gotten used to it at this point, but this was different, the boss was here.

Most of them immediately sobered up hearing your booming voice from the gigantic sound boxes. Ashe was hooking up with some random girl somewhere else, but as soon as she recognized it was you, she immediately began to look for you.

"How's everyone doing tonight? Are we having funn?" By now, you had gotten the attention of everyone in the bar, including Seonghwa. He looked at you with a dangerous gleam in his eyes, he recognized you. You were the little minx that caught his eye the day you joined the gang, you barely spoke to him, but he could sense the confident aura radiating from you.

The mic was roughly snatched from you, by one of the guys, you assumed was the manager, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes, walking towards the dance floor. He wasn't going to stop you, no one was. Since you had gotten everyone's attention, everyone's eyes were on you. You hopped over to the center of the dance floor, hair bouncing as you fully let go. You swayed your hips and ran your fingers through your hair.

You heard a few whistles and hollers around you and a bunch of hands touching your waist. At this point, you were too drunk to even react properly and just continued dancing, enjoying the attention. You hyped everyone up and began jumping to the beat, hair bouncing over your shoulders as you shook your head from side to side at the beat.

By now, you had caught Seonghwa's attention too, he was intrigued by your carefree persona outside work and admired your ability to separate your two lives. Meanwhile, Ashe had rushed to your side, trying to pull you away from everyone. Despite being drunk, her motherly instincts kicked in and she felt the need to protect you.

"Y/n, what are you doing? The boss is watching!" She practically yelled. You just gave her a disapproving look and pulled her into the middle of the circle.

"Asheeee, just let loose for one night, why are you always so uptight?" You slurred to her, caressing her waist. She gulped and looked back at your eyes. You raised your eyebrows and smirked, if only you knew the effect you had on her. As if on cue, the DJ played the worst song possible, a slow, sensual one.

You whispered the lyrics into her ear as you wrapped your arms around her neck. You caressed the back of her neck with your fingers and tugged on the smaller strands of hair in the back. You slowly started moving your waist to the rhythm as she tried steadying you, you were drunk, this was not okay. You pulled your hands away from her neck and caressed her cheeks in both of your hands, inching closer. You kept whispering the lyrics and she felt your warm breath on her lips. She was slowly gaining confidence and eventually grabbed your waist in her hands. You looked down at her hands and smirked. You brought one of the hands caressing her cheek to softly trace her bottom lip. You stared at her lips, inching closer and closer, warm breaths mixing.

All of a sudden you turned around, your back facing her, as she steadied you again. You began moving again, bending forwards purposely to rub against her. You swayed your waist and pushed backward. She knew what you were doing and slowly inched her hands downwards towards your ass. Although you were best friends, there was no doubt that there was some sexual tension between the two of you.

She began tracing patterns on your hips and butt as one hand remained on your waist. She felt around your waist, trailing patterns around your skimpy black dress until she felt a harder material near your chest and stomach. She blushed immediately not meaning to touch you there and placed her hand back on your waist. You chuckled as you ground against her harder, now definitely trying to start something. She lightly moaned as she gripped your hips, trying to pull you back up, she wouldn't be able to hold herself back for much longer like this.

"Goodness me, what have I walked upon here?"

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Way to ruin the moment Choi San...

Ashe froze upon hearing his voice. She immediately pulled her hands away from you and stepped back, a dark red blush now coating her features. Meanwhile, you were too drunk to think straight and simply frowned at the lack of contact, you were just about to get laid.

The second the others saw Ashe step away from you, random strangers started touching you again. One of them grabbed your waist, as another gripped your chin. You closed your eyes and continued moving to the beat and San sighed.

"I think that's enough, step aside before I make you" San huffed, a hint of frustration and anger at the end. Everyone obliged immediately upon sensing his dominating aura and you were once again alone. You sighed, eyebrows furrowing as you looked around, most of the people around you had moved away. You stumbled slightly and tried stabilizing yourself, only to fail miserably and almost fall over.

San rushed over and held you by your shoulders to steady you.

"Why hello there, handsome man" You sloppily winked at San and he rolled his eyes.

"Y/n what on earth are you doing? You made quite the scene just then..."

"I was having fun... you're such a killjoy, Saniee." You slurred, sticking your pointer finger into his chest. He simply pushed your finger away, trying to be strict with you.

"Yeah, your definition of fun being screaming lyrics into the mic nearly deafening everyone, throwing yourself at random people, grinding on Ashe and almost kissing her, and practically falling on the floor and eating shit" He was frustrated, but he couldn't help but feel protective over you. Despite scolding you, he still had an arm around your waist, looking deeply into your eyes, hand on your back, holding you up so you didn't fall. It was subtle things like this that showed that he deeply cared and under his strictness, he was just a big softie.

"I- I what?" You sighed trying to step away, now that he was recalling the events it started setting in.

"Yeah, how about we sober up, hmm?" He asked and you nodded as he dragged you back to the counter. You looked back one last time, only to see Ashe looking at you with heartbroken eyes. You looked away feeling guilty as tears glimmered in her eyes. To you it was just a bit of fun, to her it meant the world. Even just a few minutes where you seemed interested in her made her feel special. Deep down, you knew she might have liked you, so why did you lead her on and rub yourself against her?

You sighed shakily feeling immensely guilty. San looked down at you, as he noticed tears falling down your eyes.

"Aren't you a mess?" He chuckled and you breathed out shakily

"Shut up san" Your voice broke as you softly spoke. His eyes widened and he sat you down on a barstool.

"Why are you crying, what's wrong?" He asked as he rubbed under your eyes with his thumbs, gripping your jaw with one hand.

"I might have ruined my friendship with Ashe," You said softly and he sighed.

"Why would you think that?" He said, looking into your eyes as you tried averting eye contact.

"Deep down, I had a feeling she liked me, and I made things worse by leading her on. I rubbed myself on her like an idiot and I fucking led her on, gosh I'm such a bad friend!" Your voice cracked as San 'hmmed in understanding.

"Well, why did you do that?" He asked as he gripped your chin making you look back at him.

"I- I... I was drunk, I AM drunk." You clarified, stuttering a bit.

"No you're not," He said matter-of-factly. You raised your eyebrows in confusion as you urged him to continue.

"Y/n, I've known you for more than 5 years now, I've seen you drunk over a million times, I can tell when you're actually drunk... You may have fooled the others, but not me. Here's the real question, why the fuck are you pretending to be drunk?" He asked all of a sudden and you felt vulnerable.

It was crazy how he could read you like an open book. Your eyes widened as you tried looking away, there was no point in continuing the charade at this point. He looked back at you expectantly and sighed, as he saw you getting nervous.

"It's alright, I don't think anyone else noticed either, now please tell me what's wrong?" He said in a soft tone as you sighed.

"I can't tell you San," You said looking back into his eyes.

"Why? We aren't on duty, why are you being so secretive? Especially with me?" He specified the word 'me'. It was true, you usually never kept anything from each other so this was a bit weird.

"I just can't tell you I'm sorry" You sighed, tugging on the roots of your hair, as your hands gripped your scalp. He just sighed in understanding and got up. As he was about to leave, your hand snapped back and you gripped his forearm.

"I'm sorry San, but I can't help it. One more thing, don't you dare tell anyone." Your voice dropped an octave lower and he gulped, he had never seen you so serious before.

"Act as if you know nothing, I'm sorry it has to be this way, but just carry on with whatever you were doing and please stay out of my business just for today." His eyes bore into yours dangerously but you didn't back down. You had never commanded him before, so this must have been serious. He eventually realized it must have been something important and walked away, but not before scoffing at you.

You sighed and looked down, feet dangling over the barstool. That was close. With your cover now blown and known to San, you had to be a little more careful now. You were glad no one else had figured out though, not even your best friend Ashe. Your thoughts went back to Ashe and you felt incredibly guilty. How stupid you were, willing to throw away your friendship of 5 years, your only real friendship just to put on an act and sell your drunk state. Pathetic. You sighed as you looked back to where you were a couple of minutes ago. Although you felt immensely guilty, you couldn't help it, it was a part of your act.

Trying to go back to what you were doing, you eyed a few of the people at the bar. Although you had to act drunk, actually drinking was off-limits for today. You ordered a sparkling lemonade for yourself while looking around. Meanwhile, your eyes caught on Seonghwa. He was leaning against a counter, head leaning back. his eyes were closed and his soft bangs fell over his forehead. He brought his drink up to his lips and took a small sip. As he swallowed you saw how his adam's apple bopped up and you gulped feeling giddy inside. You tried shaking yourself out of it, but when he placed his drink aside and ran his hand through his soft, black hair, you almost lost it. You could barely see the sheen of sweat coating his forehead as he brushed his fingers through his hair.

Luckily for you, you were interrupted by the bartender bringing over your drink, and you looked away embarrassed. You shook your head to get rid of any weird thoughts or feelings as you were sure you were practically drooling. Without looking, you brought the glass to your lips to have a sip. Just as you were about to take a sip though, you caught a whiff of a rather familiar smell. You pulled the glass away from your lips and looked questioningly at the bartender.

He just looked the other way and raised his eyebrows, ushering you to follow his gaze. As you did, you found a well-built, tall, brown-haired man staring back at you. You looked back at your drink and swirled it around a bit. You noticed that it was an alcoholic drink and there were some undissolved white particles at the bottom of the cup. You looked back up at him and he simply winked at you, smirking. Pathetic. He just tried to fucking drug you and thought you'd fall for it.

You smirked realizing your act worked and he actually thought you were drunk. You tried to cover up your discomfort and simply flashed him a lop-sided smile. You turned around, tilting your head back and lifting your hand to your mouth, acting as if you had just downed the drink. You sneakily slid the drink over the counter into some far corner, so no one would notice. You messed up your hair slightly before turning back around to catch his attention to further solidify your act. As soon as you turned back around to look at the guy though, you noticed he was gone. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked around, trying to find him.

"Looking for me, honey?" You heard someone sensually whisper into your ear from the side. Chills ran down your spine, but you tried to cover up your discomfort and disgust. You turned to him, looking him in the eyes, making sure to look a little droopy before calling out to him.

"Hi~" You slurred, making sure to breathe out so your warm breath hit his face. His eyes immediately rolled in pleasure, jaw-dropping as he took in your sexy aura. You almost scrunched your face in disgust but clenched your jaw to stop your reflexes. He opened his eyes again and inched closer to your face as he spoke again.

"You're so gorgeous, damn, how have I never noticed you?" He said, his breath hitting your face. Your nose scrunched as you smelled the alcohol in his breath. Luckily he thought you were just reacting to his compliment. More importantly, however, you confirmed he was drunk... Perfect. He would most likely let down his guard so you had a solid chance at executing your plan. He also revealed that he was a regular at the bar, another important piece of information you needed to confirm your suspicions.

You giggled as your hand slowly trailed up his chest. You rested your hand firmly on his chest as you tried to push yourself further into him. He hummed and trailed a hand down to your waist. Although you didn't want his hands all over you, it was inevitably a part of the job, so you tried your best to just power through it and ignore it.

He leaned in closer until his bangs fell over your forehead. He secured his hands around your waist and held you tight. You flinched from the roughness and tried squirming around to loosen, his grip but he didn't budge. Soon a hand trailed to the side of your hip and you knew where this was going. You sighed and looked down at his hand. Normally, you would have instantly pushed him away, but this mission was far more important than how you were feeling at the moment.

He rested his hand near the dip of your waist, right above your hip, testing the waters. Remembering that you needed to act drowsy, you looked back up at him, your eyes fluttering as you smiled one last time, before falling limp in his arms. You heard him grunt as he easily threw you over his shoulder. Although this should have seemed like a major red flag to anyone around you, people weren't paying attention and they probably didn't care either. You internally whined at the situation you were in and slyly looked around, he was walking towards the back of the club, near the backrooms. You wiggled around a bit in his arms and he resorted to pressing a hand against your ass. You moved around slightly, still acting as if you were drugged, trying to get his hand off you, you couldn't directly push it off as he'd know something was up.

"Where are we goingg" You slurred, trying to indicate you were still conscious.

"Don't worry about that, honey" He whispered, smacking your ass. What a pathetic sick fuck he was. You groaned at the impact, bracing yourself for what was to come next.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa was simply looking around, observing his surroundings and being cautious as usual, when he noticed a man carrying one of the ladies into the backrooms. He knew she was unconscious, most likely drugged and being taken into the room against her will. It seemed as though the people around them didn't even care. He looked a little more closely and noticed what she was wearing. A bodycon black dress up till her thighs, with studded embellishments on the waistline and straps. It was you. He has seen you around the headquarters, tagging behind San all the time.

"Y/n?" He whispered, beginning to get a little angry, it was one thing to mistreat a woman and force yourself on her, but it was another to mess with a member of his gang. He saw how you were thrown over his shoulder, head hanging upside down, hair cascading down halfway to the floor. He huffed in anger, looking around for backup, ready to stop him, but when he saw the man smack your ass and feel up your dress, he lost it. He smashed his glass of whiskey onto the nearest counter, glass shattering as he did so.

He immediately pushed past the people around him, trying to get to you. His head tilted slightly down, eyes locked on his target, a few meters ahead. He looked psychopathic in all honesty. His bangs covered his forehead and eyes slightly. With his head tilted down, he was able to cover up his deadly eyes and killer expression. He couldn't care less about the people around him at that moment, his only concern was teaching that guy a lesson for messing with his gang.

He pushed past some people, shoving a couple of guys on the way until he was about halfway there. He was ready to just fully commit and barge across another load of people before he was interrupted.

"Uhh Hwa? What are you doing? Why do you look like you're about to kill someone?" He heard someone next to him say. He whipped his head to the side, ready to punch whoever it was that came in his way, before realizing it was San

"Because that's exactly what I was about to do, before you came in my way, now move." San shivered at his tone. Never had Seonghwa ever commanded San in such a way. Sure Seonghwa had been angry a lot in the past, but his frustration this time seemed more emotionally fuelled.

"No, no, no, that isn't a good idea, how about we think about this for a secon-"

"I SAID MOVE! Can't you hear me?" Seonghwa growled as San violently flinched at his loud tone.

"Why what's so urgent, is everything alright?" San inquired, straightening his clothes a bit, and regaining his composure.

"I'm not obligated to tell you that" Seonghwa finally said, before shoving San out of the way and walking towards the direction the man was walking before. What he didn't realize though, was that in the time it took him to talk to San, the man had seemingly disappeared.

"What's wrong?" A voice from beside broke him out of his thoughts.

"Look what you've done, I lost the man now" Seonghwa replied, massaging his temple, trying to calm his frustration.

"What man?"

"Someone threw the girl- Y/n over his shoulder and took her to one of the back rooms" He claimed, gripping the bridge of his nose in annoyance. San's eyes widened and he gasped. He knew you were up to something tonight but was this a part of your plan?

"What?" Was the only thing he could muster. He wanted to ask why, where, and how you even got in that situation, but he was too stunned.

"Not only that, he had the guts to slip his hand under her dress and feel her up, not to mention inappropriately grab her and spank her" He sighed, beginning to look around again. San gasped and immediately began frantically looking.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier" He panicked, looking around, running towards the backrooms trying to find you. He didn't doubt that you could defend yourself, but what if someone did drug you. He knew you knew better than to accept drinks from strangers and were always cautious, but he couldn't help but worry. His breath quickened and he began pacing around frantically.

"Calm down, we'll find her" He felt a pat on his shoulder, reassuring him. He let out a sigh, before nodding and continuing to look around.

"Why does this girl mean so much to you anyway?" Seonghwa dared to question, voice slightly laced with a negative tone. Was he shaming him, threatening him, genuinely curious, or maybe even slightly jealous of the way you were able to bond so easily?

"You don't even know the half of it."

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Meanwhile, the man had dragged you into one of the rooms in the back, locking it before, dropping you on the bed. Your legs dangled off the bed as he slowly approached you. He unfastened his belt and slowly pulled it through the belt loops. Through the corner of your vision, you were able to see exactly what he was doing and you knew where this was going.

He dropped the belt and slowly climbed on the bed, hovering over your legs. Meanwhile, your fists clenched unconsciously, head slowly turning away from him as he approached you. You really didn't want to do this, but you had no other choice. You had to keep him occupied for another hour or so and you had no clue how else to. You couldn't poison him or knock him out as you had no clue what tracking devices he could have had on him. Your jaw tightened and your hands unconsciously gripped at his shirt, subtly trying to push him away. Feeling some rustling from underneath, he looked down at your hands and noticed you pushing him away.

"Aw, honey there's no need to be scared" He whispered and you internally sighed.

"I never got your name, by the way, I bet a pretty face like this has a pretty name too..." He whispered into your ear from above.

"Y/n" You weakly grumbled.

"Yours?" You dared to question him back.

"Jungwoon, but I doubt you'll remember it tomorrow," He said, caressing your face. You sighed and realized he was right, you had to act as nothing had happened.

You shouldn't be able to even remember that his name was Jungwoo- Wait. His name is Jungwoon. Jungwoon? That wasn't the name you were told earlier when you were informed of the mission. Unless you got the wrong person... Your eyebrows furrowed unintentionally as you tried processing the information.

"Why? surprised honey? I'm second in line to the Kwon empire, brother of the infamous mafia boss, CJ Kwon" He said snickering a little. What an idiot, he just admitted his identity and now you confirmed your suspicions. You got the wrong fucking person.

You scoffed realizing your mistake, and he simply looked at you, confused. You shoved your knee in his groin, as you lifted yourself upright. He flew backward slightly at the impact, feet back on the ground as he tried regaining his composure.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? How aren't you out?" He questioned, still bent over, clutching his sensitive area. You just ignored him, standing up and tilting your head to the side, trying to figure out what you were going to do. The whole reason you couldn't knock him out was because of any tracking devices he might have had. Now knowing he was the son of a big Mafia empire, you had to be careful.

"Okay I mean no harm, I don't want to hurt. You're a trash person, but I still don't want to get into any trouble, so if you could excuse me" You raised your hands, trying to get out of the room as soon as possible. He made it quite difficult for you though, as he pulled out a gun from one of his back pockets, aiming it at you.

"Absolutely not! You're a crazy lady and you attacked me, I can't let you go" He aimed the gun right at your chest as you raised your hands above your head. You slowly started walking towards him, but he cut you off.

"Don't come any closer!" He gripped the gun harder, finger on the trigger. You examined his posture and the way he was holding a gun, for some indicator or weak spot. You looked at his fingers and then the gun. Aha!

"You leave me with no choice, I wasn't going to hurt you, but seeing as you're literally pointing a gun at me, I can't help it." You sighed, hands dropping to your waist, as you looked him dead in the eye.

"I'm gonna shoot you first, you crazy bitch." He huffed, readjusting his stance, now aiming the gun at your head.

"You see, the gun you're holding is a Kahr MK9-1, so the ejection port is visible. It isn't pushed back completely, meaning the gun is unloaded. Furthermore, the magazine release is triggered, meaning there aren't any bullets loaded either." You sighed, pressing your temples. His eyes widened as he pulled the trigger, only for a soft click to be heard. He removed the magazine, inspecting it, indeed, he forgot to load his gun.

"You're an idiot, you brought an unloaded gun, what good is that?" You scoffed, now walking towards him. You cracked your knuckles before raising an eyebrow at him. He backed up, a little scared of you now, you seemed to be well versed with guns and Mafias, you must have been a part of a gang. You were smaller than him, but we were aware that you could very well be capable of more.

"No, no, no, I'll let you go" He nervously said before gulping.

"Now what fun is that?" You said, tilting your head and snickering at him. He backed up into a corner of the room as you walked closer towards him.

"How does it feel huh?" You whispered as he looked down at you afraid for what was coming next.

"How does it feel to be backed into a corner? I bet it sucks, right? Well, that's what you've been doing to a bunch of innocent girls at the bar, so take this as a lesson before trying to pull something on anyone else next time." You sneered as he looked down at you blankly. His attitude and facial expressions were getting on your nerves so you decided to teach him a lesson.

You shoved your right arm into his jaw, with a clean uppercut. Shoving him backward as he stumbled, falling back into the wall behind him.

"Do you understand, you sick fuck?" You yelled as you grabbed the collar of his shirt. He nodded his head rapidly as he held his jaw in his hands. You just scoffed and left the room, head mildly aching from the idiot you just had to deal with.

As soon as you left the room, however, you remembered your mission. You panicked realizing you might have fucked up everything. You got the wrong person, meaning the real target was somewhere out there. You started brisk walking until you reached the main area, away from the backrooms. You fixed your hair quickly, trying to look for your target. Knowing what Jungwoon looked like, finding his brother, now shouldn't be too hard. You jogged through the crowd, looking around, scanning the place the best you could.

You looked back at the usual seating spot for your gang and realized it was practically empty. Your eyes widened as you quickly ran over to the seats there, looking for any familiar faces. You reached the area, noticing there were a few cigarette packets, vapes, and half-empty drink glasses, however no people in sight. You inspected the area, trying to look for any clues as to why and where they would have gone.

Sweat started collecting at the back of your neck, realizing this may have been your fault. It was your responsibility to occupy CJ tonight and you failed. What if he got to your gang? What if he had gotten to Seonghwa. You shakily sighed, a hand going up to your face to press your temples. You gulped dryly before thinking of a possible explanation. Your thoughts were cut short though, by a loud booming voice from behind you.

"Hands where I can see them bitch!"

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Meanwhile, Seonghwa and San were going crazy, trying to look for you. San was admittedly panicking more, while Seonghwa was mildly frustrated.

"Where is sheee?" San whined. By now he was starting to get genuinely worried. Of course, he believed you could take care of yourself, but the whole night you seemed extremely shady. You were hiding things from him and were pretending to be drunk. What if you got caught up in some dangerous schemes?

"Calm down, we'll find her, we just have to-" bang! Seonghwa started, only for him to be cut off by a loud bang. Both of them knew better, it was a gunshot. They exchanged knowing glances, before scurrying to their side of the bar. Although your safety was quite important too, it was Seonghwa's duty to make sure the rest of his gang was alright too.

With people screaming and running around, getting to where they wanted was a little harder. San roughly pushed through the crowd, while Seonghwa stayed a little more cautious, one hand clutching the gun in his back pocket.

"Move!" San roared at the passersby. His voice startled the people around, and they made way for them. San ran over to their usual corner, pulling a gun out of his pocket, firmly grasping it with both hands, holding it in front of him, remaining cautious. Meanwhile, Seonghwa, followed behind closely, running a hand through his hair, chains of his belt jingling as he paced around the area. San squinted, his gun still in front of him as he looked for the gang members. As soon as they reached their side of the club they realized what all the commotion was.

"Drop your weapon, let him go!" San yelled as he witnessed one of the members from an opposing gang hold a knife to one of the young spy's neck. He simply snickered, tightening his grip, the knife now cutting through the skin of his neck slightly as blood dripped down his neck. The young boy squirmed, only for the knife to dig deeper into his neck. He grunted, tears pooling in his eyes.

"What a fucking coward, going for the younger ones, eh?" Seonghwa growled, a dangerous yet playful tone to his voice. The growl was heard in his voice as it dropped in pitch and volume, deliberately trying to scare the man.

The man with the knife didn't budge, however, simply chuckling before, running the knife along the neck of the boy, cutting horizontally across his smooth skin. The boy cried, as his hands came up to grip the knife, only for him to feel lightheaded and nearly pass out. The rest of your gang members gasped, some even whimpering at the young boy's situation. The man with the knife looked back at your gang members as they looked helpless. They couldn't do anything, they knew if they did, he would cut the boy's neck cleanly in half. He looked back and deeply chuckled before refocussing his attention on the two men in front of him.

As he looked ahead though, he realized they were nowhere in sight. He looked around only to be greeted by a cold hard piece of metal pressing against the side of his head.

"I said let go" Seonghwa grumbled lowly, his voice deathly commanding and serious. The man gulped, looking at the gun pointed at his head, through the corner of his eyes. Before Seonghwa could fire his shot, however, a strong pungent smell spread across the room, he furrowed his eyebrows as he heard coughs and whimpers.

"Not so fast, Park" He heard someone snicker. He noticed how San, who was standing right in front of him, began to stumble, gripping onto a chair next to him. It must have been poison or some sort of toxic gas. Seonghwa felt the room spinning, his vision getting blurry as he looked around at his gang members coughing and clutching their stomachs.

"Cover your mouths and noses" He tried to warn them, only for it to come out as a bare whisper. He looked around, most of the members now passing out. He saw San, clutching his stomach, before looking up at him. His eyes fluttered as they got droopier. San simply grunted in pain before mumbling a soft 'sorry' and passing out, his head falling straight to the floor. Seonghwa felt helpless, he tried resisting it, but everything in his body burned. His throat burned and his ears rang.

He clutched his ears, a loud ringing noise making its way to his ears, overwhelming his senses. He let out a gasp, feeling breathless as his trachea burned. His eyes soon fluttered shut as he tried gripping onto the last strings of hope, before succumbing to the poison and passing out...

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"Hands where I can see them bitch!" A loud noise made its way to your ears. You slowly raised your hands as you slowly turned around. Behind you was probably your worst nightmare. Most of your gang members had passed out cold, behind the man. Some of them even tied up to chairs. San, Seonghwa, Ashe, and a young boy were tied to chairs, while the rest were still on the ground. You looked up at the man in shock, your eyebrows furrowing as your tried to process the situation. His face resembled Jungwoon's so there was only one logical explanation, this was his brother, CJ, the man you were after all along.

"Is this some sort of sick game to you?" You dared to question, walking closer to the man. He simply chuckled at you, firing the gun in your direction. It didn't seem as if he tried to kill you, although he aimed for the top of your shoulder, the bullet grazing your acromion. You screamed in pain, crouching down, your hand instantly flying to your shoulder. Albeit a mere flesh wound, it managed to dig quite deep, leaving a deep open would. Blood gushed through the wound as you pressed harder, trying to stop the blood flow.

"Well, it could be if you wanted it to be" He claimed, laughing at your situation. You looked up at him from the floor, shooting daggers with your eyes. He chuckled as one of his members passed him a water bottle. He snickered, before opening it, taking a sip, and clearing his throat. You furrowed your eyebrows, how was he so relaxed, the fate of an entire mafia gang was in his hands.

He chucked half the bottle into Seonghwa's face, and then another quarter into San's. He threw the bottle into some distant corner and yanked at Ashe's hair. Meanwhile, Seonghwa gasped, regaining consciousness, which must have only been a temporary toxin. His hair was wet, water dripping down his bangs, as they fell over his face. He glared daggers at the guy, before trying to get up, only for him to realize he was tied up. He struggled in the ropes, the rough edges, digging into his silky smooth skin.

San had also regained consciousness, gasping as coughed and choked. He blinked realizing the situation he was in. He looked around, noticing Seonghwa, and Ashe, and the other younger boy, as well as the rest of his gang members, and then finally you. His eyes widened as he struggled to try to free himself.

"Y/n?! You're okay?!" He questioned, sighing in relief as he finally found you. His relief was only short-lived, however, as he noticed you clutching your shoulder. He noticed the dark red stains on your hand and neck, a pool of blood on the floor, dripping from your shoulder down to your elbow and onto the floor.

"What did he- What did you- YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HER, LET HER GO!?" He yelled, tugging on his ropes. He didn't care about himself at the moment, only what happened to you. You noticed how he started pulling harder, the ropes now digging into his skin as he tried pulling out. His wrists were bruised as the soft skin of his arms cut due to the rough edges of the rope. Blood trickled down his arms as his arms got raw from the pulling and tugging of the rope.

"San-ah, don't resist, I'm fine" Your voice wavered, as you tried regaining composure. Seonghwa's eyes softened as he noticed the sheen of your eyes, tears collecting. He sighed, looking down, unable to look at your current state, you must have been in so much pain, both physically and emotionally.

"I-" You started, only for your voice to break, a strangled sob escaping. Seonghwa's head whipped up as he noticed how you squeezed your eyes shut, tears now falling down your cheeks. You bit down your lip, as your shoulders shook. Your head faced the ground but it was clear you were crying. Whimpers and sniffs echoed as members of the opposing gang simply laughed.

Seonghwa felt anger bubbling up, but he had to stay calm. Seeing you break down like this in front of everyone, evoked a feeling of fury and seething rage. He simply looked away, unable to take in the sight of you being so vulnerable. You had always been one of the toughest ones in the gang.

"Now, now, no need to cry honey" You heard CJ whisper. He roughly yanked Ashe's hair once more and you winced at the way her neck snapped to the side. She got up with a sharp inhale, and a loud groan as she tried to understand the situation. CJ walked closer to you, his hand gripping your chin, tilting it up towards him. Seonghwa grunted as he tried tugging harder at the ropes.

"Don't touch her, you son of a bitch" Seonghwa finally growled. His eyes glaring daggers at CJ. This was the first time you heard him speak tonight and it was a tone you weren't too pleased to hear. His voice had a slight rasp to it, voice lower than the deepest trench of the ocean. Water dripped down his face and neck, making the side of his face shine in the light. His dampened clothes clung to his body as his eyes glared through his bangs.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't have too much fun. Now, if you could please get up for me, my darling I have an important mission for you" He maniacally giggled. You mustered all the energy you had and pushed yourself onto your feet, one hand still clutching your shoulder. He handed you his gun and your eyebrows furrowed. He stepped back and you instantly took the chance to point the gun at him. Your breath quickened as you tried to calculate his next move, what on earth was he up to.

"ah-ah darling, it's not me you'' be shooting. It's one of them" He pointed behind him to your four other gang members tied up in chairs. Ashe gasped as she let out a strangled sob, San gasping as well, as Seonghwa simply sighed, taking in your expression. You looked blankly back at him as you readjusted the grip on your gun with your wounded arm.

You shifted your gaze behind him, only to notice, four other men, standing behind the chairs, a gun pointing to each of their heads. "Shoot anyone else, and a bullet goes through all their skulls... that wouldn't be a pretty sight, would it?" He claimed, laughing at his own crazy scheme. By now Ashe was crying hysterically and you couldn't help but feel emotional too. You tried looking away, knowing the second you would look into any of their eyes, you'd break down. You roughly wiped at your nose, nodding, agreeing to his terms.

"I love a game of Russian roulette." You sniffed, chuckling sarcastically.

"May I spin the barrel?" You asked innocently and CJ simply chuckled loudly.

"I knew you had it in you!" He laughed, roughly patting your back. You rolled your eyes before inspecting the gun a bit. You opened the barrel, realizing there was only one bullet, he must have known when the first bullet would go off. You internally smiled realizing you had cracked the code.

You locked the barrel in place, before spinning it, the bullet clanking across the cylinder. Your arms shivered slightly as you raised the gun. Bingo! You were never one to be afraid when it came to guns. The shivering was an act. An act to shake the gun a little to hear where the bullet was clanking. You heard the clanking on the bottom of the barrel, realizing the bullet was going to fire on the 5-6 shot. Realizing it had already gone off once when CJ shot you, it was only logical that the bullet was in the 5th chamber.

You smiled before aiming the gun at San first. His eyebrows furrowed as he realized you were proceeding with this absurd plan. The moment he saw you smile, however, he knew you had everything under control. Besides, he trusted you. You winked at him, before placing your finger over the trigger.

"Just to clarify, If I shoot all of them once, you leave us alone? Whether one of them gets shot or not?" You spoke up, glancing from the corner of your eye.

"That is correct. Now, take your shot lady." You smiled back at him, before pulling the trigger while the gun was aimed at San. He flinched slightly at the noise but quickly covered up as a laugh erupted from him.

"This one got lucky... try the next one" CJ urged you. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to the unconscious boy. He looked young, maybe 16 or 17, and his neck was slashed, blood oozing from it at a slow rate. You quickly looked away and pulled the trigger. Despite knowing it wouldn't go off, you still had to act as if you were scared. Ashe yelped from next to the boy at the loud noise and Seonghwa sighed in relief.

"Well, well, well, I guess they both got lucky... How about your best friend now, you both seemed to be getting it on the dance floor no? It would be a shame for this epic love story to end so tragically." Ashe blushed a deep red as San chuckled from the side laughing quietly. You huffed in annoyance before pointing the gun at her. Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to speak.

"Y/n, if this gun goes off right now, just know that I forgive you, it's not your fault, no matter what-"

"Shut up Ashe" You yelled. The last thing you needed was a sad emotional goodbye, as you knew the second you saw her cry, you would too.

"No! Listen to me, never for a second think that you're responsible for any of this. I love you a lot, and I'm still mad at what you did back then, but it-" bang! Ashe squealed as the next gunshot went off. CJ's jaw dropped, another one was left unscathed. You winced slightly as she flinched. You didn't mean to be rude, but she was getting a little too sappy and you already felt terrible.

"You've been lucky so far, but it's a 1 in 2 chance now. Chances are, the legendary Mafia boss, Seonghwa Park will die, right here, tonight. Not just that, but to the hands of one of his most loyal members." He chuckled maniacally and you pointed the gun at Seonghwa. He gulped as he noticed your finger on the trigger, awfully close to pulling it. You looked straight into his eyes and could sense the fear in them. He gulped, eyes shifting around the room as his foot bounced impatiently.

You sighed, mouthing a "trust me" subtly, and smiling at him. His eyes widened as he realized you had planned this all along. You knew exactly when the bullet was going to go off. He should have known, besides you were the second-best with guns in the entire gang, of course, you would know. His eyes softened, as the corners of his lips tugged upwards.

You returned the smile and readjusted your stance. Meanwhile, CJ on the side had no clue what was coming. He believed with this next shot, the mafia boss of the Park gang would be dead, already coming up with plans to take over the empire.

You pulled the trigger and Seonghwa didn't even flinch. He simply chuckled deeply, before tilting his head back... that's how much he trusted you at that moment. CJ's jaw dropped. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

"ONE MORE!" CJ yelled at you as you flinched at the sudden loud voice. Seonghwa's eyes furrowed as he heard him. Your eyes widened as you processed the situation.

"I said one more! Take one more shot, or I'll drive a bullet through Park's head. I don't care who you shoot, but one of you is not going to leave alive today, and I will make sure of it." CJ grumbled, another one of his members passing him a gun. He pointed the gun at Seonghwa's head shoving it into his forehead. Seonghwa inhaled sharply before looking back at you, worried. It was obvious to everyone now that whoever you shot was going to die now. The last chamber had the bullet, so it would fire.

"Why do you care so much about someone dying today!" San yelled from the side.

"You took away one of my young hackers. You shot him right in the back. He's paralyzed now! FUCKING BASTARD SAN! I don't take such matters lightly, and for ruining his life, one of you is now going to pay with yours! I don't care who it is, one of you is going to die!" CJ yelled, gripping San's collar. He gulped realizing CJ found out about one of his missing hackers. Truth was, San helped him fake his paralysis to get him out of that vicious gang. He was now working for you, but CJ could never know that, or he'd go after the young boy.

"So it doesn't matter who I shoot?" You clarified, your voice shaking slightly to sell the act. CJ grinned from ear to ear, looking back and nodding smugly. Seonghwa looked at you with concern as he knew you were up to something. His eyes furrowed as you lifted the gun.

"What about this?" You asked, now pointing the gun directly at your chest. San gasped from the side, Ashe yelling at you to stop, while Seonghwa's eyes widened.

"I supposed that is acceptable too. Now get on with it!" He yelled as both the gangs waited for your next move. You took in a deep breath of air before pulling the trigger of the gun. You gasped at the impact, and fell to the ground, clutching your chest.

The next few seconds were a bit of a blur. Not from the actual shot itself, but the commotion around you. You heard the footsteps of the opposing gang members as they scurried out the club. You heard a bunch of cries and whimpers from presumably San and Ashe.

Your back made contact with the floor with a loud thud, as you winced from the pain. Seonghwa immediately felt a surge of urgency, as he tried breaking free from the ropes. He yanked as hard as he could, cutting through his wrists slightly, as the ropes snapped. His wrists were bloody and his arms were bruised all the way p, but he couldn't care less.

He roughly yanked at San's ropes, loosening them a bit, just enough for San to free himself. His breath quickened and his eyes widened as he approached you. He rushed over, immediately crouching down to your level. He sat down on his knees, desperately trying to hold you up. He shifted next to you and brought your head to rest on his lap. Your eyes fluttered shut, as his big arms cradled your face, holding your cheeks in each hand. His cut wrists, left a trail of blood, on the exterior of your face, your hair clinging to your face from the damp blood and sweat.

"No, no, no, you're strong Y/n, you're going to survive this" He whispered to you, his breath caressing your face as his shallow breaths continued. He must have really freaked out. He began lightly, tapping your face, shaking your head in his hands slightly. He, brushed your hair away from your face as his fingers rested on your temple. You heard him let out a whimper, as you felt a warm droplet fall onto your cheek. Wait... was he crying? It couldn't have been... The legendary Park Seonghwa crying over one of his members dying. What a sight. He shifted slightly, moving one of the hands that were cradling you to press at your chest. His large palm, pressed softly at your chest, rubbing against the bottom of your left breast. That's where you drew the line.

"Uh-uh, hands off me" You claimed, pushing past Seonghwa, trying to get up. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes widened. You promptly stood up, as he remained seated on the floor, not understanding the situation. You walked over to the younger boy, untying him too, before grabbing a tissue, pushing at the large wound in his neck. You looked around, trying to find someone to help you, and looked at San. His eyes were wide as he was frozen in place.

"Stop staring and come help me, you ass!" You yelled, ushering to come over. He quickly rushed over, before cupping your cheeks.

"I thought you were going to die..." His voice broke, as you scoffed.

"Come on now, I wouldn't leave you that easilyyy" You whined before guiding his hand to the boy's neck.

"Hold it in place, we need to get him medical attention quickly, or he might bleed out." You passed him the tissues, before walking to untie Ashe. As soon as her wrists and arms were untied she pounced on you. She engulfed you in a hug, sobbing into your shoulder.

"You dumb bitch" She cried into your shoulder, as you patted her head, cradling her face. She pulled away and you looked down feeling guilty.

"I know, I'm sorry" You whispered out, only for her to scoff, before pulling you into another bone-crushing hug. You winced in pain, as your shoulder was hurting quite a bit. You simply resorted to rubbing her back for now. Your little moment was broken by a small cough heard from the ground. You looked down, only to notice, Seonghwa was still sitting on the floor, eyes wide, as he tried processing what was happening.

"Mr. Park... You're uh, still on the floor..." He looked right into your eyes, his eyes narrowing as he pushed himself up to his feet, walking towards you. He looked down at you as you tilted your head up, making direct eye contact.

"Firstly, I am touched and flattered that you cried for me, who would have thought..." You said, more to yourself, as Seonghwa brought his hands to his face, touching under his eyes. He realized his cheeks were wet with tears, as he roughly rubbed at them, sniffing and scrunching his nose.

"Secondly, that was inappropriate, dude! You can't just go around groping women you know?" You yelled as his eyes widened. You pointed back at your chest, indicating where he had tried pressing before. You knew he was trying to prevent, possible bleeding, but you couldn't help but tease him a little. He refocussed his attention to your chest, staring at the hole in your dress.

"Eyes up here buddy" You caught his attention. He scoffed, before bringing you into a hug. Engulfing your smaller body in his larger build.

"Ow! my shoulder, be careful, Park!" You scowled as he pulled back.

"Y/n what the fuck? You're supposed to be dead" He finally said, before bringing his hands, to your shoulder, to inspect the wound.

"Actually no" You pulled back, pulling the neckline of your dress down. His eyes widened as a blush grew on Seonghwa's cheeks. You flipped the top of your black lace bra outwards showing a navy blue thicker lining underneath.

"Bulletproof lining, I managed to push it up from my stomach to my chest when I uh, broke down" Seonghwa sighed, pressing his temples.

"You weren't crying?" He asked, a hand cupping your cheek as he spoke.

"Well no, it was a distraction, to bend over and push up the lining to my chest. The tears from before as well, they were fake too, sorry San, I had to sell my act..." You mumbled but San still heard. He scoffed as he walked towards you.

"I figured as much" He smiled back at you.

Seonghwa tightened his grip on your jaw as he realized something. You gasped as you tried pulling away.

"You knew what was going to happen? Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" He said a little louder. You didn't budge, knowing what you did was right.

"Because! If I were to tell you, you would have brought around 20 other bodyguards accompanying us. Besides this wasn't even the original plan... I was supposed to sleep with CJ, distract him for the night so he couldn't carry out his plan. Turns out I got caught up with his brother and had to... deal with him first." Seonghwa loosened his grip on your jaw before sighing, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

"Regardless, I'm proud of you, you know? You outsmarted them all and saved our lives. I owe you thanks." He said before stepping back. You felt dampness on the side of your head. Realizing it was blood, you grabbed his forearm, before inspecting his cuts and bruised wrists.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" You scoffed, before, walking over to get him a tissue to wipe the dried blood for now.

"For you, Y/n... I thought you were dying..." He sighed as gripped onto the base of your dress.

"So what? It's a part of the job. I knew what I was signing up for. I very well knew that death was a possible risk. Besides, why care about me so much? I'm rather expendable actually." You said matter-of-factly.

"No, you're not. Never feel like that. You mean a lot to the gang, a lot to me. Even though we don't interact often. I know how much you do for the gang, how much work you put in for everyone." He said, looking at you sincerely. You smiled back at him softly, booping his nose, turning on your heel.

"Let's get cleaned up shall we?"

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: *long sigh* finally. This story has been haunting me for months now. I was so tempted to just go crazy and start uploading it because I love it so much. But If I’m uploading this, it means that we’ve made it to the promised day! Yay! You guys, I think this may be one of my favorites. Which, if we’re being honest, all of my works are my favorites. But this is everything.

That is all. Please read and enjoy. Let me know your thoughts, I’d be overjoyed to hear from you.

Chapter 1. Unbreakable Bond

It was easier than I thought it would be; breaking the bond. Perhaps I was just desperate enough. Practically begging on my knees as I stood outside the dingy apartment building, knowing that this was irreversible.

Wanting it to be irreversible.

The woman’s name is Christina, and she gives me a wary look as she explains the cutting process. Her own severed thread is a testament to her underground business. I trust her.

“I need you to be absolutely positive about this,” she warns. “There's no going back once I cut the thread. It will be nearly impossible to find your soulmate.”

That’s the least of my problems. I know that it’ll be all too easy to check in on the whereabouts of my soulmate; after all, he rarely goes anywhere without it being broadcasted to the entire world.

“Burn it.”

Warning me about the impending heat as she pulls out a blowtorch, I hear her sigh. Christina gathers up my thread and places it delicately atop a metal slab.

The little warehouse attached to her apartment offers little distraction; there are a few scattered tools laying about and nothing else but dull gray walls. In a time like this, a distraction would be nice.

“Do you ever regret it?” I ask, an uneasy turn of my stomach pushing the question out. Christina pulls her faceguard down, gesturing for me to look the opposite way. My shadow takes up the entire wall as she fires up the blowtorch.

“Me?” I can feel the heat of the fire, but I refuse to flinch. “Not really. But I do feel a bit bad for my soulmate.”

I frown at the gray wall. “Why?”

Christina shifts to get a more direct angle on the thin red thread that hangs from my finger and extends to disappear under the door. “You’re not the only one who is about to lose a soulmate today. At least it’s your decision.”

Staring at the unforgiving gray wall, I have plenty of time to mull over her response. However, the second I begin to worry or feel sorry for my soulmate, I remember the sweaty palms and crippling anxiety from earlier.

As Christina takes a step back after nearly thirty minutes, turning the blowtorch off, I turn to assess the damage. Frowning at the still intact thread, Christina snorts.

“Don’t move.”

She takes a lofty hammer in her hands, bringing it down hard on the thread. I gasp as sparks fly into the air, my thread tightening around my finger and pulling. Grabbing my hand, I struggled to remain upright on the stool.

“We’re almost there!” Christina huffs, bringing the hammer down again and again. Sparks continue to fly, one landing on my shoulder and burning a small hole in my shirt. My hiss of pain is cut short as the pressure on my finger suddenly loosens, nearly causing me to fly backward since I was straining against it.

My breath comes up short as Christina removes the hammer from atop the thread, and I see what happened.

The formerly vivid red hue fades to a dull color, almost a brown-red like dried blood. I watch as the frayed ends begin to retreat, one end slipping off the table and disappearing under the door.

I push off the stool, ripping the door open just in time to see the red thread glinting under the moonlight, drifting away on a breeze. Retreating to its other half.

Glancing down at my hand, I hold up my finger where the other frayed end stops just a few centimeters away from the base of my finger.

“Yeah, it’ll stay like that,” Christina says as she comes to stand beside me. “Unless you want me to burn your finger off…?”

I give her a dry chuckle. “No, thanks. It’s alright like this.” I tilt my head, marveling at the fact that I’m looking out into the world without my thread obscuring my view. “So...will his thread just disappear?”

Christina shakes her head. “Your threads, while cut, still mirror each other. So his will look like yours in a few minutes when it catches up to him.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

She invites me back inside, offering me a salve for my aching shoulder that was burned, frowning as she tells me that it will most likely scar.

“I’ll just consider it a souvenir,” I mumble. Christina laughs.

“That’s the spirit.” She passes me a mug of apple cider, sitting across from me at the same metal slab she calls a table where my thread was severed. “So, do you know who your soulmate is, then? Is that why?”

I take a long sip of the cider, my mind instantly replaying the scene from hours earlier. “I know who he is. Although, I wouldn’t say that I cut it because of who he is. He’s a great guy, actually. Top notch.”

Christina raises her brows at me. “Really? What makes you say that?”

I pause to look at my frayed thread, the string of fate loved by the world over. The thread that I always thought would bring me joy beyond belief, but made me realize that it would be better to let go.

For him.

“Do you know BTS?”

Christina sets her mug down with a loud bang. “Do I - of course I know who they are. Why?” Her expression turns to horror. “Why?”

I wince, taking another sip of my cider. Holding my hand up to display my severed thread, I wiggle my finger. “Park Jimin.”

✂

Jimin is in the middle of his dinner when he feels a sharp tug on his red thread. Chuckling at it, he holds his hand up for the thousands of fans watching his live to see.

“My soulmate is acting up, I think.” He watches as the comments flood in, most everyone mourning the fact that they are not his soulmate. A few people tease him about it being them on the other side of the thread, and while he knows that they’re simply joking with him, he can’t help the increase in his heart rate.

If only.

The thread tightens around his finger, making him hiss in pain. “Ouch,” he mutters, pulling back against the thread in order to sit still. “Sorry, everyone. What were we talking about? Oh, right. The concert today -”

Jimin whines as the thread pulls even harder, nearly causing him to spill his drink. Pulling back as hard as he can, he gives the camera an apologetic smile.

Then, his eyes widen as an idea strikes him. “Do you think I should follow it?” He asks excitedly. He hasn’t ever heard about people’s threads pulling them in the direction of their soulmate when they’re not even in the same room, but maybe she’s here, staying at the same hotel-

“I’ve gotta go!” Jimin shouts, blowing a kiss with his free hand before promising to visit everyone again soon. “Thanks guys!” Ending the live, Jimin shoots out of his chair, barely remembering to grab his room key before bursting out of his room and into the hallway.

Following the pull of the thread, he grins as he follows it to the elevator. Punching the button as hard as he can, he jumps from one foot to another as he waits for the doors to open.

“C’mon, c- bingo!” Sliding into the elevator with a gleeful shriek, he ponders for a moment before deciding to hit the ground floor.

Jimin’s cheeks are red with excitement by the time he reaches the lobby of the hotel, not even noticing when a couple of the bodyguards that escorted them to the concert venue today see him and immediately start following him.

“Mr. Park!” One of them calls. “Mr. Park! You can’t just leave without some form of security!”

Jimin hardly spares him a glance as he bolts for the exit where his thread continues to pull him. “Then follow me!”

The bodyguards chase after him into the night, exchanging concerned glances as Jimin follows after his thread like a convict on the run.

They nearly tackle him as they round a corner he just turned a few seconds prior, stumbling to a stop as they see Jimin standing still in the middle of the empty road.

“Mr. Park,” one of them pants. “Where are you going?”

Jimin stays completely still, the sudden lack of tension from his thread causing his heart to stop. Glancing down at where it’s wrapped around his finger, he feels the exact moment his heart stumbles to a stop.

Floating on a breeze, he sees the other end of his thread. Skimming along the ground like a plastic bag tossed about by the wind.

“What is it?” Jimin breathes out, the question leaving his lips without his consent. “What is it?”

There’s a chill that settles over him as the thread comes closer and closer, making Jimin retreat almost as though he could stop it from reaching him.

“No!” He yells, taking another step back as the end of the thread now arrives at his foot. “No! Not like this!”

The bodyguards watch on with disbelief as the thread works its way up to Jimin’s hand, slowing to a stop just below his finger. They’re continually glancing down at their own threads, making sure that they aren’t about to stumble upon the same ugly fate.

But it’s just Jimin with the cut thread. It’s just Jimin, who falls to his knees with a dull thump. Staring down at the thread, raising his shaking hand and grasping the frayed edge.

“Are they…?” One young bodyguard asks. His senior shakes his head.

“No. The thread turns gray when they die, remember?”

“Then what happened?” He asks again, eyes wide.

His senior sighs heavily, heart breaking at the sight he’s only ever heard stories about. “They must have found someone to cut it.”

The young bodyguard gasps. “Cut it? Is that even possible?”

Jimin’s sobs answer the question for him, the sound echoing off the buildings. One by one, lights turn on in the surrounding apartment buildings as people wonder what the commotion is all about.

Jumping into action, the bodyguards swarm Jimin, picking him up and supporting him between the two of them. Jimin’s body is weak and limp as he shouts and sobs.

“C-come back to me.”

taglist is open, just let me know and I’ll add you, or click on the link in my navigation tab!

masterlist

taglist: @taylorroe3 @dreamcatcherjiah @thecaffeinatedscribbles @onewoneman @moon-write @marianeamine @missseoulite @preciouschimine

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anwynb2003 · 3 years

Text

Um... I think I made a BatFam AU while half-asleep...

Ok so, I wake up, and it seems last night I wrote out a messy explanation of a story that I just might have to write now... but I've read literally one Batman comic (Death in the Family), and all my knowledge comes from either YouTube, Wikis, and stories on AO3...

Hyperfixation is fun, isn't it?

Anyway, here's a copy-paste of what I wrote in my half-asleep state at around 2:00 last night (note, the doc itself is simply titled "C'mon. You Know."):

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tireeeeed let’s do this

Okay so

AU: No superheroes. Bruce Wayne is just a rich dude who starts taking in orphans because reasons.

First up was Dick Grayson, who he adopted when he was 9.

7 years later, he added 13-year-old Jason Todd.

3 years later, 12-year-old Tim Drake.

2 years later, 14-year-old Cassie Cain.

And finally, 2 years after that, he learned of and gained custody of his only biological son: 10-year-old Damian Wayne.

Only a year after Damian joined the family though, Brucie boy died, presumably in a “tragic accident”, but it’s quickly revealed that someone’s altered his will, leaving his kids with none of the family’s fortune; not even their home.

Dick, who’d moved out a few years ago, now has custody of his 3 youngest siblings, and only a small, 2-bedroom house in Blüdhaven to care for them in.

Jason, who for a variety of reasons had run away at 15, and had stayed away for the most part, reluctantly agrees to move in Full House style to help Dick, while all the siblings work with their ex-butler/grandfather figure Alfred, and family-friends Jim and Babs Gordon to figure out the mystery of their father’s death and will.

Tensions run high, Dick’s having a breakdown, Jay’s struggling to Dad (verb), Tim’s gay and spiralling, Cass struggles with speech, and Dami’s emotionally stunted. Yay!

So we got:

Dick, 24-year-old officer of the BPD. Adopted at 9 years old after losing his parents in a circus act gone wrong, Dick stayed with Bruce until he was 18, when after a heated argument he left for college. He made up with his father over the next couple years and stayed in contact, often visiting him and his siblings.

Jason, 21-year-old, works part-time at a gym in Crime Alley, Gotham City. Adopted when he was 13, after several years of living on the streets after his step-mother’s death by overdose and his father’s “peace out” moment. Discovered the identity of his birth-mother, ran away to go find her because teen angst and increasing fights with Bruce, then she was found dead a week later (her ex was charged and found guilty) and while Jay couldn’t be found, much of the blood at the crime scene was his. Then, randomly, he contacted his family again 4 years later, at 19. Didn’t move back in, and things were quite tense between him and Bruce, but still hung out with his siblings outside the home (though he was angry at Tim at first, for being adopted less than a year after his “death” and "replacing" him).

Tim, 17-year-old honours student. Adopted when he was 12, but actually started hanging around the house a little before that, as Dick was tutoring him after school. This helped both Dick, and Bruce to discover how neglectful and emotionally abusive his parents were, and Bruce literally had to sue for custody for this kid. He won.

Cassie, another 17-year-old. Adopted at 14, she’d been on the streets much like Jason had, but of her own volition… to a point. She was scarred after seeing her father do… something, when she was only 8 years old (she’s repressed so hard that even she doesn’t remember exactly what), and so ran away. This thing traumatized her so much that she lost her ability to speak for years, and has only just started learning to talk again. Instead, she usually uses ASL.

And Damian, an 11-year-old ball of politeness, good manners, and pure, unadulterated rage. He was born nine-months after his mother date-raped his father, and was raised in quite an… odd way, by said mother and her father. Long and short of it: crime family, but not a close one. He rarely if ever actually saw his mother, and when he did she wasn’t overly affectionate. He spent most of his early days being groomed to be his grandfather’s heir, only for their entire organization to be captured by police when he was 10. It was now when the emotionally stunted, spoiled brat was put into his father’s custody.

Main issues:

-Dickie boy stressed ooooooouut, gotta be a breadwinner and keep his siblings together and safe

-Jaybird technically never made up with Bruce; they’d actually made plans to get together and talk things out, but then, y’know, death

-Timmy, poor thing, is balancing school, work at Wayne Enterprises, and investigating the case of his father’s death, and has seemingly forgotten what sleep is. Adding on the fact that Bruce being dead means his (granted, chosen) role as heir to the company seems much more real (even despite the fake will, he's confident he'll figure it out and find the real one), he’s not doing all that great

-Cassie, sweetheart, has been emotionally traumatized for years, and now just has more trauma to add to that with Bruce being dead. She’s getting better, but struggling

-Dami, baby bird, is filled with more rage than usual, and is endlessly worried about all the animals in his “zoo”; Alfred remains at the manor (though he has not met his new employer), for the sole purpose of making sure they stay fed, watered, bathed, and more or less cared for.

So, to sum up, Dick’s working to support them and trying his best, Jay’s Dad-ing while Dick’s at work since his hours are more flexible, Tim hasn’t slept in years, Cass needs therapy and hugs, and Damian has a growing army of stuffed animals to fill the gaping hole in his life where his zoo used to be (since he could only bring Titus and Alfred the Cat with him to Bludhaven).

Will they be able to figure out who had their father killed and get their family legacy back?

Hell if I know, I haven’t written it yet. Probably. Get off my back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, long story short, I seem to have issues, but this is happening now apparently.

Not right now though, Ima go play Minecraft.

#batfam #batfam au #au #no heroes au #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #bat bros #kill me #why do i do these things #hyperfixation #i'm hyperfixating #can you tell?#ok ima go play minecraft now #bye

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pm-my-hubbies · 3 years

Text

Who Are You Talking To | C.E

Summary: Reader is fed up with Chris not spending time with her on her week-long break.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning(s): None!

A/N: I accidentally shared this through my personal account! I apologize for any confusion if I tagged you the first time!

Chris was ecstatic when I informed him of the dates for my Fall Break.

He planned out everything we would do together. From planting a blanket in the middle of a park for a lovely picnic to strolling through farms for a pumpkin to carve and sit on our porch. He did all of that.

Yet he’s one strike away from me slapping the shit out of him. He’s been blowing me off every second and I’m due to return for work in two days. We hadn’t done any of what he promised we would accomplish together weeks ago. Instead, he handled work business downstairs for the first part of the day and followed that up with indulging in his own hobbies. I wasn’t a part of any of it.

To add on to it, his Zoom sessions weren’t successful and that prompted him to radiate negativity. Dinner time consisted of him giving me short answers or grunts and through it all, I remained optimistic. I figured being positive and not calling him out on his behavior right then would flip a switch in him to acknowledge how he was acting towards me but nothing happened.

My feet connected with the cold wooden flooring, goosebumps rising on the parts of my body that were exposed because of the tank top and pajama shorts I wore. The clock read 11:54 p.m. I’m praying Chris let Dodger out for the last time this evening.

The volume of the television in the living room increased the closer I dragged my feet to where I presumed he would be resting. Turning the corner, Dodger was the first one I spotted as he slept soundly on his stuffed animal right by the entrance to the room. Chris, on the other hand, watched CNN on blast as if he was an old man struggling to hear; his arms were folded across his chest while he laid on his side and blankly stared at the bright screen.

I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of my week spent at home. “Chris.” I called in a firm voice that was loud enough for Dodger to only blink his eyes open and instantly travel back to Dreamland.

My boyfriend only shifted his gaze to look at me. “Hm?”

“Did you let Dodge out one last time?”

“Mm-mm.”

Breathe Y/N, breathe. I let out a soft sigh as I bent down to gently shake the canine awake. “Dodger, honey. Let’s go outside.” I knew from Chris’ response he wouldn’t be letting our dog out anytime soon. The man would probably drag himself down the hall to bed as the sun rose for a new day.

Dodger simply obeyed my soft command by standing and putting on a show of dramatically stretching. As we made our way towards the back door right behind my miserable boyfriend, I made sure to cut my brown eyes at his lounging figure and hoped he could feel my glare.

Once again, my skin tingled as the cool night air caressed my legs and arms. To keep myself warm, I folded my limbs across my chest, rocking on the balls of my feet. My eyes managed to follow Dodger’s sniffing silhouette in the darkness but as soon as he began the squat for a number two, I looked away.

By now, Chris had shut off the loud tv. Finally.

“I thought you said we would be hanging out for my Fall Break?” I questioned with my back facing him as I kept my eyes on the dog.

“What?”

“I thought you wanted to hang out with me for my break. Week-long, might I add.”

“We are.”

“No we’re not, Chris. And you know it.” I sighed as I moved to slide the door closed but ceased my movement to leave an opening for Dodger in case he finished early. With my hands on my hips, I rotated around to stare down Chris. “You’ve spent every single day downstairs taking care of business with A Starting Point and work, which I have no problem with. It’s what you do afterwards that bothers me. Barely talking to me or not at all and then you sit down here to do whatever. I was trying to be positive and give you your space but now—”

“But now your little feelings are hurt, right?” he snapped. “You’re hurt because I can’t devote 100% of my attention to you on your little break? News flash: everything isn’t about you, Y/N. So, stop your whining and actually think about what I’m going through.”

This would’ve shattered a younger version of myself. But after years of reflection, I realized I was always given the opportunity to fight back instead of wallowing in my tears.

First, I glanced to my left. Then to my right. No sign of life. I grimaced at my boyfriend. “You must not be talking to me.” I indicated with a point towards my chest. “You must be talking to this goddamn wall.” I sassed, jabbing my thumb to the wall behind me.

Suddenly, for the first time in the year Chris and I have been together, his eyes were size of saucers as it dawned on him what he’d done. And how I responded.

Tonight, was his first time taking his anger out on me. Yes, we’ve had our arguments, but those moments were different. This happened to be the time where the world was against Chris and rather than rely on me to comfort him (as I usually would), he was victimizing himself. He probably expected my body to rack with sobs at the harshness of his words, but I was through with that shit tonight.

“Since you wanna pull a Karen on me, your ass can sleep on the couch tonight.” I punished him. In that moment, I felt the softness brushing against my legs. Dodger was finally in. I pulled the door closed all the way this time and locked it. “Come on Dodger, your dad is being an asshat. You can sleep with me.”

Chris was frozen in his spot as the both of us moved past him. I made sure to give him a little bump on the way with my shoulder.

While waiting for Dodger to grasp his animal in his mouth, I observed him throw Chris a quick glance as if telling him that he fucked up. Funnily enough, our dog was the first to exit the scene and hold his head high as he trekked to the bedroom.

“I’m locking that fucking door tonight. Don’t even try it. You made your bed, now lay in it.” I dictated.

~*~

Surprisingly, I slept like a baby. Maybe it’s because I finally said something to Chris about his behavior lately. The previous nights, he would slumber away while I laid awake wondering if we would even spend time together before I headed back to work. Calling him out felt right.

I took care of my morning routine before unlocking the bedroom door and calling for Dodger to wake up. What I didn’t expect on the other side was the tray we roll out for sick days to be standing in front of the door.

Dodger was planning on being difficult as he hadn’t moved from his spot. This gave me ample time to study the tray with a covered meal placed on top and a horizontally folded card with my name scribbled on it.

“You were right last night. I have been distant throughout your break and I’m sorry for ruining the plans I promised. It’s a short amount of time left with you but we’re going to get started early. Eat the breakfast I made for you and then freshen up by putting on your favorite dress. Meet me at the car by 11.”

I chuckled at the message but decided to follow his set of instructions, nonetheless.

~*~

As promised, Chris drove us to the pumpkin patch further away from where we lived for more privacy and intimate time together. We spent the whole ride discussing last night’s events and catching up on the conversations we were meant to have throughout my week in our house. When he parked the car, he suggested we snap as many couple selfies but made sure to emphasize the idea of him taking pictures of me.

“They’re for my phone.” He lied through his teeth as I raised a brow at his idea.

The truth: Chris yearned to share pictures of me on his Instagram. At least half of his feed consisted of me, Dodger, or nature and rarely ever himself. I worried he would lose followers for never updating them on how he was doing but he dismissed my worries with a kiss to my forehead and a, “It’ll be fine, who cares?”

For a while, we explored the farm with our hands linked and eyes moving about at the pumpkins of all shapes and sizes. It wasn’t until we’d reach the halfway point did I realize we didn’t have an exact clue as to which type of pumpkin we were searching for.

“I was thinking one of those big, tall pumpkins.” Chris answered after I asked him what our goal was.

“The ones that look like an orange squash?”

“Yeah.”

“Why…?”

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted one.” He shrugged. His face held a gentle look of content.

“Well, if a squash-lookin’ pumpkin is what my big baby wants, then a squash-lookin’ pumpkin is what he shall get.”

Chris released my hand to wrap it around my waist and pull me closer to him. I felt my cheeks heat up as he placed a kiss to the crown of my head. After all this time together, he still managed to have me acting like a schoolgirl that somehow caught the attention of her longtime crush.

“Thank you baby.” He answered. “I know I already said this twice; through the note and in the car. But, I’m truly sorry for how I acted last night and the days before that. I was stupid in bottling everything up and not confiding in you like I normally do. Doesn’t justify any of what I said last night but I figured you had a lot on your plate and didn’t want to bother you with my own.”

I paused my walking to glance up at him with what I hoped was love in my eyes. “Chris, you could never bother me. As a couple, we talk to each other. Even if we’ve got problems of our own at the same time? I want you to come to me and I come to you so we can figure things out.” I stood on my toes to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw due to his towering figure. “I love you and accept your apology.

“I love you too.”

“You better. Because my ass wouldn’t be helping you find that ugly pumpkin to make you happy.”

“Hey!” he pouted before I shut him up with a kiss.

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @daddyslittlecaptain @tantricevans @liquorlaughslove @nina-skyee @pinkgirlinablueworld @norababora @bakarilennox @rubyy98

#chris evans #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x woc reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader

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bpro-cardstories · 3 years

Text

Tomohisa Kitakado SSR

2019 ー New Field [新境地]

“Say, Tomo, are you really alright with it?”

『Event: Pirates of Legend (1st - 9th August 2019)』

Part 1

ーKitaKore’s apartment.ー

Tomohisa (surprised): ‘A request for me….. To write a script for a drama series?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes. Because it’s in the form of a competition it’s unknown if your script will actually be used. You were supported by a famous script writer and invited to “co-write” a script.’

Tsubasa: ‘The theme will be “battle”, but outside of this, you are free to write anything.’

Ryuji: ‘Hee, so far there have been writing requests such as columns or comments….. Scriptwriting for a drama series is a first, isn’t it? It sure is an unusual offer, Tomo.’

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah, I honestly was surprised. Why did he nominate me, I wonder?’

Tsubasa: ‘The client is a TV station producer who worked on many hit dramas.’

Tsubasa: ‘It seems that while he was watching Kitakado-san’s appearance in a program, he took notice of the atmosphere and your speech which was intelligent and had a good feeling to them.’

Ryuji: ‘Hehe. That producer must be watching Tomo closely.’

Tsubasa: ‘He also read the columns published in magazines by Kitakado-san, and said that you have excellent writing abilities and sufficient topicality. Therefore, if you are interested then you are asked to get in touch with him.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘I see….. I appreciate that he even read my columns. And to be valued to such an extent makes me happy.’

Tsubasa: ‘It’s not often that I hear of said things, so I think he is not simply complimenting you, but they do really like Kitakado-san’s writing.’

Tsubasa: ‘Since it’s a rare change, would you like to try it out?’

Tomohisa: ‘You’re right….. I’m very grateful for the consideration. By going beyond acting there will be a lot of things I will be able to learn through standing on the side of production for one time in the future.’

Tomohisa: ‘Since I like writing, I’m interested in putting together a story. If I can challenge this, it might be a really great stimulus.’

Tsubasa: ‘If so, thenーー’

Tomohisa: ‘But I will turn down the offer this time.’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh……’

Tomohisa: ‘There are many wonderful professionals in this industry. It feels wrong for an amateur like me to suddenly take part in a competition. If I participate just because of topicality, it’s rude toward the contestants that earnestly submit a script I think.’

Ryuji: ‘........’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Should turning down the offer become an inconvenience then that’s a different matter, however….. There’s no problem I hope?’

Tsubasa: ‘Of course, please don’t worry about it. You are right, because it’s of a different nature than your usual work, Kitakado-san’s feelings are most important regarding this matter. Then I will later inform him of your rejectionーー’

Ryuji: ‘Wait a minute, Tsubasa.’

Ryuji: ‘Say, Tomo, are you really alright with it?’

Tomohisa: ‘Ryuji…..?’

Part 2

Ryuji: ‘You actually…… don’t really think that joining the competition is rude, do you? That thinking is even more discourteous I think.’

Tsubasa: ‘R-Ryuji-kun……’

Ryuji (angry): ‘I mean it’s the truth, it’s like saying you all lose to a script of an amateur’s topicality.’

Tomohisa (baffled): ‘........’

Ryuji: ‘That producer must know that it’s natural that there will be lots of scripts from professionals. As a producer for programs even more so. Yet, he purposely gave you an offer, Tomo. Isn’t it better to think more thoroughly about the meaning of it?’

Tomohisa: ‘........ The meaning of purposely choosing me, huh?’

Ryuji: ‘Exactly. …… It’s true that Tomo may be an amateur in relation to scriptwriting. But doesn’t the feeling to try it out apply to both professionals and amateurs?’

Ryuji (upset): ‘If you seriously are prepared to work hard, then you ought to take this chance.’

(It may be the first time I see Ryuji-kun persuading Kitakado-san about work in such a manner. All the more as Ryuji-kun might feel that this work will be meaningful for Kitakado-san.........)

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘........ Thanks, Ryuji. You’re right, maybe I was a bit conceited here.’

Ryuji: ‘I- I didn’t say that........’

Tomohisa: ‘No, it’s fine. Thank you for making me realize. It kind of opened my eyes. It seems like the offer itself was unexpected for me and my mind didn’t catch up.’

Ryuji (sighs): ‘........ I thought so. It was unlike Tomo to find a reason to not accept even though you had an interest in the offer.’

Tomohisa: ‘Haha, it’s as Ryuji says.’

Tomohisa: ‘........Tsubasa, I’m sorry, but ignore my answer from earlier. Would it be fine if I think about the offer a bit longer? My own feelings included, I want to properly think about whether I have enough time to face the production.’

Tsubasa: ‘Kitakado-san........ Of course!’

Tsubasa: ‘These are the materials for the competitions. I will contact the other party, so please take your time to consider.’ ________________________

ーAnother day. In the meeting room.ー

Tomohisa: ‘ーーHello, Tsubasa.’

Tsubasa: ‘Kitakado-san, hello.’

Tsubasa: ‘It has been one week since then....... Did you come to a decision about the scriptwriting competition?’

Tomohisa: ‘Yes. I faced myself and........ Came to a decision.

Tomohisa: ‘I want to participate in the competition.’

Tsubasa: ‘........! I’m glad to hear that........ I thought that it was a really good chance so I am happy as well.’

Tomohisa: ‘Thanks, Tsubasa. I got excited when I read the material for the competition and was able to convince myself once again that this is what I wanted to do.’

Tomohisa: ‘Besides, it’s important for us to open up new work fields from now on I think.’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu, I am certain that this will be a big step. If you have decided so, I need to start adjusting your schedule........ I wonder how much time you will actually need to write a script?’

Tomohisa: ‘About this…… When I read the materials I tried to write one. Won’t you look over it for me?’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh........ You tried to write a script, you said?’

Tomohisa: ‘Yes. I wanted to test to what point I’m able to write alone. I thought that it’s important to let the producer know what writings other than columns I can produce.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Since I jumped into the world of professionals, this much preparation and readiness is a must.’

Tsubasa: ‘Amazing........ But is it fine that I will read your script beforehand?’

Tomohisa: ‘Of course. If possible, I want to hear your honest thoughts and impressions on it.’

Part 3

(Kitakado-san’s first script........ Just what kind of story could it be.)

Tomohisa (laughs): ‘Since the theme was “Battle” I wrote a story with “Pirates” as the motif, which I associate with the theme.’

Tsubasa: ‘ “Pirates”........’

(So, it’s probably mainly intense action. ........ Oh, it takes place in Japan.)

(........Huh? There are........ no battle scenes. The “pirates” appearing in the story are at the checkpoint that’s on the sea.)

Tsubasa: ‘........ How strange.’

Tomohisa: ‘Hm? Is there perhaps some inconsistency?’

Tsubasa: ‘Ah, no........! This story is very interesting. The appearing characters are charming and the dialogue is lively. It’s possible to become engaged in the story because thanks to your stage directions the scenes naturally emerge.’

Tomohisa: ‘I see, glad to hear this.’

Tsubasa: ‘But ........ This work is different from the usual “Pirate story”, is it not?’

Tomohisa: ‘Haha, that may be true, indeed. Pirates are pirates, but I chose “Murakami Kaizoku*” as the motif.”

Tsubasa: ‘ “Murakami Kaizoku”?’

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah. When you hear “pirates” the image of a group that gloriously steals the treasure with showy swordplay and firefights comes to your mind. But Japan’s pirates........ The “Murakami Kaizoku” are a group that fights to “protect” the important things.’

Tomohisa: ‘They seem to have been a group, also called the Japanese feudal lord of the sea, that was working for the sake of “protecting” people’s lives, livelihood, and above all, the peace of the sea.’

Tsubasa: ‘So that is why they do not start a fight by themselves.’

Tomohisa: ‘Exactly.’

Tomohisa: ‘........ Modern and extreme “battles” are perhaps better suited for entertainment and entertainment for drama series. But I think “fights” aren’t not only there to mutually hurt or steal from each other. To protect what’s dear, one overcomes their weaknesses. Everyone faces this kind of “battle” everyday.’

Tomohisa: ‘I want to write the kind of story where the viewer sympathizes and is inspired, even if the time or circumstances are different, is what I thought.’

Tsubasa: ‘A “battle” that does not leave the viewer behind........ That is incredibly like Kitakado-san. This is why you can feel a soft warmness despite the heart-breaking scenes.’

Tomohisa: ‘Fufu, if it’s how you feel, then I’m happy.’

Tomohisa: ‘It’s worth writing just because Tsubasa said that.’

(To be able to produce such a wonderful script in a mere week, Kitakado-san really is extraordinary........)

Tsubasa: ‘I would like to continue reading your script without a rush, but........ More importantly, I would like to quickly submit it to the producer. I am sure it will be more than what they expected.’

Tomohisa: ‘That’s good to hear. But if this script isn’t what they wished for, then don’t hesitate to tell me, I will rewrite it.’ ________________________

ーAnother day. During a photo shoot.ー

Tsubasa: ‘Uhm........ Ah, Kitakado-san!’

Tomohisa: ‘What happened for you to be so flustered........ Wasn’t it a different location today?’

Tsubasa: ‘That is true, but there is something I need to tell you as soon as possible. It’s about the script the other day, I received a reply from the producer.’

Tomohisa: ‘........! What did they say........’

Tsubasa: ‘It was praised that the result was beyond their imagination. And they were pleased about the subject at hand, which was like Kitakado-san. Moreover, it will be adopted as a solo script by Kitakado-san, instead of a co-written one........’

Tomohisa (surprised): ‘Solo script?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes! It was decided to make it into a drama, outside of the competition. It seems that it will be in the frame of a two hour special drama.’

Tomohisa: ‘Made into a drama........ This time everything really is beyond your expectations.’

Tomohisa: ‘But I’m incredibly happy about it. I wonder if it’s fine that there are no problems with the content of the script and to receive such a big chance?’

Tsubasa: ‘It looks like there will be some corrections needed, however, they said that they want to go with the content as it is. And........’

Tomohisa: ‘There is more to come?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes. When the production of the drama happens, if possible, they want Kitakado-san to be involved with the castings as well.’

Tomohisa: ‘Me........ Involved in the castings?’

Part 4

Tomohisa (baffled): Is that true? I didn’t think it was possible for me to choose the actors.’

Tsubasa: ‘If you wish, they will move to make it come true as much as possible. For this reason, should you have a performer in mind, do not hesitate to........’

Tomohisa: ‘........ If so, then there’s one person I’d like to ask.’

Tsubasa: ‘Is that so?’

Tomohisa: ‘Since he’s a veteran, it might be difficult. However, when I was writing the main protagonist, he came to my mind. So I was thinking to myself that I would be delighted if he plays the role........’

Tsubasa: ‘In this case, it will not hurt if we let them know! The producer is eager to gather a good staff and performers as well.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Thanks. ........ How do I say, there’s a mysterious feeling I have never felt before. The world I imagined inside my head becomes reality........ The actors and actresses will bring the lines I wrote to life. They’re just ordinary letters, but I’m able to witness the moment they turn into living words.’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu, even I am getting excited myself.’

Tomohisa: ‘Tsubasa, you also read the script, is there someone you imagine to play this particular character?’

Tsubasa: ‘Let me see, I ........ Ah, before that, I have an important matter to tell you.’

Tomohisa: ‘Hm?’

Tsubasa: ‘It’s regarding the casting, they also like to ask some B-PRO members to appear.’

Tomohisa (surprised): ‘From B-PRO, too?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes, as Kitakado-san’s name will be listed, they want at least two other names to be listed as well.’

Tomohisa: ‘I see........’

Tomohisa: ‘........’

Tsubasa: ‘Uhm........ is something wrong?’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Yeah........ I just thought about how it’s a bit troubling, because it’s not possible to have everyone appear, I assume? It’s a given that, no matter who I choose, they will deliver a good performance. And yet, I have to choose from them.’

Tsubasa: ‘You are right........ Choosing among the members does feel awkward. However, this is not about the quality of their acting ability. If you choose them based on whether they suit the role or not, then it should not be such a worrisome matter I think.’

Tomohisa: ‘That’s true........ Then........’

Tomohisa: ‘........But, what to do. The role that suits Ryuji this timeーー’

Ryuji: ‘What about me?’

Tomohisa (surprised): ‘Ryuji! What about the shooting?’

Ryuji: ‘It just finished. I heard your talk from the middle on....... Tomo, are you worrying about me by any chance?’

Tomohisa: ‘That’s.......’

Ryuji (sighs): ‘Haa....... As I thought. Listen, do you think I will sulk if I can’t appear in the drama?’

Tomohisa: ‘No, you’re wrong. It’s just that this work is my first script. Since Ryuji encouraged me so much....... Besides, I do really love Ryuji’s acting. So if I am choosing from B-PRO, I want it to be Ryuji after all.’

Ryuji: ‘But there’s no role for me, is there?’

Tomohisa (dejected): ‘Uh.......’

Ryuji: ‘Good grief.......’

Ryuji: ‘There must already be a set image inside Tomo’s head. You absolutely can’t stray away from it. I won’t forgive it if Tomo’s important work will be ruined by such a thing.’

Tomohisa: ‘Ryuji.......’

Ryuji (smiles): ‘And in the first place, if I was appearing in the drama Tomo penned then I’d be the leading role, am I right. The content as well must be even more refined.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Heh....... You’re right, When casting Ryuji, it has to be a script that was written for Ryuji.’

Ryuji: ‘Exactly. So for now, concentrate on producing good work. That’s also part of a professional’s work, no?’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Yeah. Thanks, Ryuji.’

Tomohisa: ‘.......Say, Tsubasa.’

Tsubasa: ‘Y-Yes.’

Tomohisa (winks): ‘To be honest, when I was writing the script, there were characters for which members came to my mind.’

Tsubasa: ‘.......! Please let me hear about it.’

Tomohisa: ‘Thanks. Uhm....... This role is heroic, fun and soothing. Since he’s a moodmarker I was thinking of Hikaru when I was writing the script. As for the other role, he comes with honesty and seriousness who doesn’t hesitate to throw away his life for the sake of his comrades.’

Tomohisa: ‘So I think this role might suit Kazu.......’

Ryuji: ‘.......’

Part 5

ーDuring the drama production, at the beach.ー

Lighting staff: ‘Put the lighting a bit higher.’

AD: ‘The last location bus is arriving! With this all the performers for today are gathered!’

Tomohisa: ‘....... It’s the start of the filming, huh. From here on out we’ll earnestly start filming now.’

Tomohisa: ‘.......’

Tsubasa: ‘.......Uhm, Kitakado-san. Are you fine?’

Tomohisa: ‘Eh?’

Tsubasa: ‘No, somehow you looked stiff for a second....... Since we are shooting at the sea all day, you will be hit by the salty sea breeze. If you are not feeling well, please tell me right away.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘I’m fine. My body is fit and healthy, there’s no problem.’

Tomohisa: ‘But, perhaps....... I’m a bit nervous.’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh.......?’

Tomohisa (pensive): ‘It sure is unusual for me, I agree. I just don’t know it myself really well, this sensation I’m feeling for the first time. I didn’t feel like this when I appeared in dramas....... Is this what you call pressure?’

Tomohisa: ‘A great number of people are working to realize the script I wrote. It’s been like this ever since this project started to move. Seeing the preparation for the shooting before my eyes now....... It looks like I came to realize this fact at last.’

(For Kitakado-san, who usually is the one who calms down everyone, to be this nervous....... It’s also a first for me. The words I should be giving at this time.......)

Hikaru: ‘Uwaah~ I’m so super nervous~!!’

Tomohisa: ‘.......Hm?’

Hikaru: ‘Did you see, leader? The actress who’s standing by the location bus!’

Hikaru: ‘When I was a child I watched her dramas in the morning, she played the mother in it!? I can’t believe there would come a day where I would be co-starring with her....... Aaaah, that makes me so nervous!’

Hikaru: ‘Leader, write down lots of letters of “person” on my hand** I will drink them! I will chug them down all at once!!’

Kazuna: ‘Calm down, Hikaru. It’s not our turn yet.’

Hikaru: ‘Uuh~! I know, but.......!’

Kazuna: ‘Hm, I do understand you though. There are nothing but talented performers around here, it’s nerve-wracking. But everyone should have the same desire to produce a good drama....... Don’t let yourself be swallowed up by the atmosphere and let’s rise together.’

Kazuna: ‘Let’s fight the pressure and move forward, just like our roles.’

Tomohisa: ‘.......!’

Kazuna: ‘Ahead of overcoming your weaknesses, there’s the future. For this reason, no matter how scary it is, even if your legs are tremblingーー You need to walk without stopping.’

Hikaru: ‘L-Leader.......’

Hikaru: ‘Uuuh, you’re so cool~! I’m mesmerized~!!’

Kazuna: ‘H-Hikaru, lower your voice a bit.......’

Hikaru: ‘You’re right! It’s the lamest to lose to yourself! Alright, I’ll also do my best!!’

Tomohisa: ‘....... Haha.’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu....... Hikaru-kun is just as usual.’

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah. Kazu as well as Hikaru, they both are strong.’

Tomohisa: ‘I....... have to become strong, too. I can’t stay like this.’

Tomohisa: ‘If I don’t fight with the same feeling as the actors and actresses as part of the crew, I can’t deliver good work that many people can enjoy.’

(....... A dignified look. Yeah....... I’m sure he will be fine from now on.)

Producer: ‘Alright, it’s time. Shall we gather once before we start filming? Kitakado-kun, come here!’

Tomohisa: ‘Yes, I will.’

Tsubasa: ‘....... Everything is going well.’

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah, then, I’ll be going.’ ______

Tomohisa: ‘....... Tsubasa.’

Tsubasa: ‘Kitakado-san? Do you need something.......’

Tomohisa: ‘No, just....... Thanks.’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh?’

Tomohisa: ‘I’m very grateful that this gives me an environment and opportunity to continue taking on new challenges. That’s why, thank you, Tsubasa.’

Tsubasa: ‘....... You are welcome. The possibilities are limitless. Let us take on all kinds of challenges from now on as well.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Yeah. Then....... I will go fight alongside everyone.’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes! Please do so, Kitakado-san.......!’

END ______________________

* Murakami Kaizoku (村上海賊): “[....] Murakami Kaizoku was the country’s largest group of pirates. Contrary to the usual activities of pirates who loot ships for money and goods, the Murakami Kaizoku’s primary occupation was enforcing order for the safety and security of navigation, and ensuring orderly trade and distribution in the Seto Inland Sea.[....]” [Source: japan-heritage.bunka.go.jp]

** Writing the letter for “people” (人) on the palm of your hand and swallowing is something like an encouragement ritual in Japan. Perhaps you might have seen it in some anime before, like Shokugeki no Soma, or in J-Dramas. This article explains the history behind this action.

#b project #b-project #tomohisa kitakado #ktkr #myps #card:2019

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH64

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 64: The Queen’s Inheritance (III)

"You are really disgusting, what kind of garbage aesthetics does the person who created you have?" the sacrifice with the tangdao said. He turned his head and felt no guilt about destroying the ceremony.

He stood on the steps and looked at the growing monster. The black mist could no longer cover its body that had swollen after absorbing the blood of the worshippers and sacrifices. Now it was a strange creature like a crawling earthworm standing on the altar, and it was still expanding.

"Come on, eat a little more. When you’re full, we’ll have a good time. But don't eat too much. If you eat too much, I can't clean it up, then I’ll have to run away," the mysterious sacrifice told his plans to the monster in a magnanimous manner. He jumped away from its tentacles and mercilessly cut them off with his sword. The tentacles, that were curled up when they were cut, bounced twice on the steps and fell onto the ground below that was about to become a blood pool.

The mysterious sacrifice stood on the steps, looked up at the eye projected over the hall, sneered, and then looked back at the scene under the steps.

The whole ceremony scene had been completely reduced to hell on earth, and a large number of sacrifices had escaped. The sacrifices that hadn’t escaped before had died very quickly, and the worshippers were even worse. Some of them were crazily and frantically attacking each other, while others had simply committed suicide. Several tentacles that had come down from above the altar were cruising among the bodies, constantly devouring them.

The smell of death is pleasant, the mysterious sacrifice thought carelessly as he took a sniff. Ever since he had entered the Nightmare World from the real world more than two months ago, there were new surprises waiting for him every day, which would be regarded as abnormal things in the real world yet taken for granted here. This world, which completely follows the law of the jungle, was simply a paradise for people like him.

The mysterious sacrifice looked down and looked at the chaotic ceremony scene with great interest. The two people I saw outside also followed me here.

These two people... Interesting!

The mysterious sacrifice’s eyes were bright, and he jumped like a cheetah down from the steps of the altar. The cheetah casually rushed to the man who was trying to wake up his companion who had been dazed by the giant eyeball. He suddenly turned his sword on him, forcing him to loosen his hand and draw his sword.

Qi Leren, barely conscious and losing what he had been leaning against, fell to the ground on unstable feet and looked at the dome of the temple with empty eyes. That huge eyeball was still floating in the void. It seemed to exist there, but it seemed to exist in his imagination. No matter whether he opened his eyes or closed his eyes, the mysterious woman's dreamy voice lingered.

Ning Zhou was fighting head-to-head with the mysterious sacrifice. The person in front of him looked only twenty. He looked like Qi Leren, a foreigner, but his skills weren’t those of someone who had lived in peace—this was the common fault of foreigners. It was almost impossible for this group of people from the peaceful world to undergo years of training, so they more or less all had undisciplined fighting styles. But this man... This man was definitely a trained master!

In a short time, the two people have exchanged more than a dozen moves. Amidst the fierce fighting, the two began to use the original forces in their bodies intentionally or unintentionally. At that time, the terrifying supernatural power caused chaos around them.

"Interesting, I didn't expect some unexpected gains this time." The man with the tangdao grinned and looked very happy.

"...Who are you?" Ning Zhou asked coldly.

"A passerby*." Claiming to be a passerby, the mysterious sacrifice answered casually and drew his sword against the other again.

*{E/N: Pronounced “lu ren”, see end notes}

Ning Zhou didn't want to tangle with this puzzling guy at all, but the other party was not an opponent who could be easily beaten. After a short hesitation, he decided not to pull his hand, and let the surging force of destruction in his body spew out from the depths of his soul—for a moment, the force of destruction spread from him like an explosion, and the mysterious sacrifice who was close to him was flown out more than ten meters away.

"Angry?" The passerby stabbed the ground with his sword.

Ning Zhou looked at him coldly, his originally blue eyes filling with a thin layer of red mist.

"This kind of power is very interesting, but I still like fighting with real knives and guns." The passerby shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, this sword of yours is so lame that it’s totally unworthy of you."

Ning Zhou didn't listen to him, and the terrifying force of destruction was washing over his consciousness. He tried his best to fight against this force that was about to devour his reason.

"Oh, that guy has matured, your friend is in danger." The passerby’s line of sight crossed Ning Zhou's shoulder and looked at the huge mass of meat that was moving down. It supported its body with tentacles full of lesions, slowly crawled out of the black mist, and climbed down from the altar, while the huge tentacles wrapped in mucus devoured bodies in a pool of blood all the way, even those who had not yet died.

Amid the screams and groans, out of the black mist, the monster exposed its true appearance—a giant monster that looked as if it was comprised of worms and clumps of rotten meat, with festering tentacles covered with rotting tumors, emitting a strong smell of rotten meat. And in the middle of the meat, there is a black gap, and deep red eyeballs could be seen faintly in the gap.

Qi Leren, who had fallen into a state of mental disorder because he witnessed the mysterious eyeball in the sky, was unaware of the approaching tentacles. He lied in the pool of blood and stared blankly at the void above his head.

The tentacles were getting closer and closer. They had climbed the steps and come to him, and in that the next second they would roll him up and devour him!

Suddenly, a cold murderous aura passed through the air, and the almost condensed wave of destruction fiercely washed over the tentacles that were ready to eat, and instantly twisted the tentacles near Qi Leren into a pile of minced meat!

Ning Zhou, a few tens of meters away, slowly lowered the hand that had struck out his sword, closed his eyes, and calmed down the extraordinarily strong will to destroy just now, and then stepped on the blood and walked towards the monster that swelled to the point of crushing the altar.

The mysterious sacrifice who claimed to be just a passerby leaned against a column holding his arm, his tangdao stuck in the ground. It was rare that he didn't actively challenge his opponent.

It wasn’t that he didn't want to, or that he couldn’t fight. At the sight of this man, he was sure that he had touched a certain law and he held himself back under the influence of this law. He had only sensed the power of this certain law in the less than three months since he entered the world, and even he was very unskilled in using that power.

However, it was strange that this was clearly a righteous person, yet the strength in his body was so horrible. He could have been stronger if he hadn't been struggling to suppress this force, but for some reason, he tried to maintain his crumbling rationality and refused to be a slave to it.

The passerby appreciated the man's fighting ability, with his flowing movements that were incredibly smooth. In the real world, it was almost impossible to see a warrior who had experienced rigorous training since childhood. His outward strength cooperated with his movements and easily strangled the monster’s tentacles one by one, and he even set foot on the steps of the altar, moving closer to the monster’s body lying on the steps.

The man became a devil. The passerby saw his glowing red eyes and scales gradually covering his skin. However, this demonization seemed to fill him with pain. He had to stop and stand at the column beside the altar steps, breathing while trying to suppress this demonization process.

Taking advantage of the enemy's inattention, this unknown monster was recovering quickly. The remaining broken limbs were healing, and the next round of attack was eagerly brewing.

Ning Zhou didn't give it much time. He barely controlled the strength in his body. He once again raised the Sword of Judgement that was completely contrary to his force. This sword belonging to Maria's protective force and the force of destruction in his body were like fated enemies, but they were intertwined and used like self-abuse.

The losing monster retreated, its tentacles contracted in waves, and it seemed to be afraid of the awakening Devil King. But suddenly, the eyeball floating in the void emitted a scarlet light that centered on the monster's body. That huge piece of meat closed its eyes as if it was inspired by some kind of power, then opened its eyes—

The whole temple suddenly lost its color, as if only the colours black, white, and gray were left between heaven and earth, and the tremendous force or order fell from the sky like a huge mountain, which was heavily pressed on the top of everyone's head.

The passerby looked up and gave an impatient “tsk.”

This was another powerful person, stronger than this demonized man, and was possibly the one who had brought him into the Nightmare World and then irresponsibly discarded him. This kind of person who held a "field" was already regarded as "God" to some extent. And now, he was just a mortal looking forward to the opportunity to kill God.

The demonized man suddenly revealed his original form amid the sudden force—black dragon wings erupted from his back, the huge wings covered his rapidly changing body, scales covered his skin, and sharp talons grew from his fingertips. In less than a minute, he had turned into a black dragon and let out an angry roar against the powerful oppression above them.

That roar pierced through space, causing the courtyard filled with the gentle light of dawn to echo with it.

The woman who was sipping black tea gave a faint "hmm" and smiled: "Is this the force of destruction? It seems that he’s not far from becoming a devil."

"Do you want to get rid of him?" Su He, who looked particularly eye-catching in the light of the Village of Dawn, asked with a smile.

The petite Devil of Power took a sip of black tea and shook her head: "No, let him be. Since Slaughter has been dealt with, there is just one candidate missing to open the Devil King’s coronation ceremony. Let him take this place for the time being."

"Be careful when raising tigers," Su He laughed.

"The time isn’t right yet. Instead of worrying about him, think about the one in the Village of Dawn. He’s the one who will cause us trouble." The Devil of Power sighed lightly. "You know him well. Tell me, do you have any ideas?"

Su He propped up his chin and looked out at the sun rising between the floating mountains, showing a gentle smile: "Don't worry, it's already ready. It won't keep you waiting for long."

"With you handling affairs, I’ve always been at ease. However, the goldfish is still paying more attention. Since Slaughter left, the goldfish bowl has become more and more unstable. If it really lets its body escape... you know the consequences," the Devil of Power said lightly.

"When you’re officially crowned as the Devil King and let Utopia devour the demon world, this will not be a problem," Su He said.

The Devil of Power smiled, and the ambition of power shone in her eyes, making her radiant: "I yearn for that day more than anyone else."

-----

Editor’s Notes:

Did anyone guess right? :) The “passerby” Lu Ren is one of the main characters from BMBL’s previous trilogy The Easter Egg Game, which is set in the same universe as WTNG. I really recommend reading it if you haven’t yet, the ongoing translation can be found [here].

Also a couple things that I’m pretty sure BMBL used as inspiration for these last few chapters, but that I don’t believe she mentions in A/Ns: The fluorescent algae in the underground lake (later retconned to jellyfish) is a real thing and it’s very pretty, pics [here] and [here]. As well, the temple seems to be based off the Pantheon in Rome, which is famous for the “oculus” (eye) at the center of its dome, pic [here].

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sunlit-squid · 3 years

Note

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

#sbsp #my fics #spongebob squarepants #squidbob #spongeward #spongebob #squidward #ask #asks #sunlit-squid

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years

Text

Candy, Canes, and Caffeine

Summary: After Spencer is shot in the leg, Y/N finds it hard to hide her feelings.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Tags: fluff!!! (light smut). Reid-with-a-cane!!! gif by @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: fulfulling this request!

Rating: Mature(ish)

Words: 2,540

MASTERLIST

You didn’t even realize that it was Spencer on the ground when you arrived at the scene. At the sound of his squeaky voice shouting to help the shot man, your blood ran cold.

Forgetting all your FBI training, or, more accurately, throwing it out the window, you bolted onto the green lawn, collapsing by Spencer’s side and examining the wound just under his knee.

You didn’t even realize that he’d been talking until you felt his strangely cold hand on your cheek, lifting your gaze to him.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he assured you, looking far too calm for a man with a bullet in his leg. But, that was Spencer, always doing the opposite of what you expected.

Before you knew it they were wheeling him away to the hospital and you were left wondering why the hell your heart was beating so fast.

It didn’t take you long to figure out. In fact, precisely four days after Spencer’s return. It started rather simply: the team was out of town on a case and Spencer stayed behind to assist Garcia due to his injury. Which would have been fine! If not for the fact that they needed you to stay behind as well to assist the two of them.

In your opinion, it didn’t make any sense. They could have easily had someone else stay behind, but for some reason, Hotch had impressed upon you the necessity of having you there with Reid.

And Garcia! Of course.

It wasn’t like you were just there to babysit Reid. An idea that became more and more enticing as time passed.

“Hey, I’m gonna get coffee, do you want anything?”

Spencer glanced up at you from where he’d been rereading the case file, rubbing his eyes drearily. It was nearly nine p.m. and the two of you were the only ones still in the office.

“Oh, you don’t have to…. Here, I’ll come with,” he muttered, standing up and leaning on his cane to come with you.

“Spencer! You should be resting!”

“Actually, some studies have actually found that it’s better to use an injured muscle rather than slack off. For example—”

“Okay!” you laughed, hooking your arm around his as you walked to the kitchen. “Okay, I believe you. But at least let me make your cup for you?”

With a soft smile, he sat down at the little table, wincing as his weight left his leg.

“Does it hurt?” you cringed at the question. Of course, it hurt! A goddamn bullet went through it.

“Only when I stand on it. Or move it too much. Or too little.”

When you looked back to see if he was joking, you were pleased to find him smiling widely, scrunching his nose at you and tucking his hair behind his ears. God, his hair had gotten long.

Sticking out your tongue at him, you set the timer on the coffee maker and picked out a couple of mugs from the cabinet.

“Hey, are there any more of those little chocolates left? They go so well with coffee.”

You looked in the little tin Emily had brought in that used to contain an assortment of little dark chocolates. Sadly, it was empty.

“No luck. Although….” you reached up to the cupboard above the microwave, cheering when you saw an identical tin. “I knew she had an extra one!”

But, even standing on your tippy-toes, the shelf was too tall for you to reach on your own.

“Ugh, dammit!”

A soft hand snaked around your shoulders, softly pulling you toward the ground and you spun around, face to face with Spencer. You gasped softly at his proximity. He was so close, you could smell his shampoo. He smelled like green tea and autumn.

One hand on his cane, holding him upright carefully, the other hand reached up and fetched the tin effortlessly. You’d forgotten how tall he really was in the past week due to his frequent inclination to sitting.

“Thank you,” you breathed, suddenly painfully aware of how close your lips were, or, more accurately, how far apart they were.

“Sure,” he whispered back.

It was dark in the kitchen. After seven o’clock, the lights get turned off so the only luminance you got was from the wide-awake city just outside the huge glass windows.

Spencer’s eyes were half-lidded, watching you very carefully, neither of you daring to move.

For a split second, it looked as though he was leaning in, but, oh so cruelly, the coffee timer went off and you flinched away, turning toward the machine. When you looked back, Spencer had sat down.

Oh well. It was probably wishful thinking, anyhow.

“Three sugars?” you teased as he proudly poured several packets into his mug. “How are you alive?”

“You know, I ask myself that more often than you might think,” he laughed, glancing down at his leg.

Unintentionally, he’d shifted the mood of the conversation and the questions you’d been holding back were daring to break free.

“Spencer, do you ever….”

“Do I ever what?” he prompted after you trailed off.

“I don’t know…. Do you ever feel like sometimes, it isn’t worth it?”

“No.”

He answered quicker than you’d expected and with a sureness you didn’t associate with him. At your shocked expression, he clarified.

“I mean, there are times when it doesn’t all work out, sure. But… every life we save… that makes it worth it.”

“Yeah,” you leaned back, taking a long sip of your coffee. “I guess I’m just worried about the lives we don’t save.”

He shrugged.

“Sadly, in our line of work, you have to separate yourself from the case. Don’t get attached.”

“What if it’s too late? What if you’re already attached and the person whose life doesn’t get saved is someone you lo—”

Stopping abruptly, you took a deep breath, glancing down at where your hand was tightly clutching your cup, letting the tension melt away. When did that happen?

“It’s very rare that an unsub comes after our loves ones,” it sounded like he was trying to sound calm about it but you felt the weight of his eyes boring into you.

“What if the person who gets hurt isn’t…. What if it’s someone who doesn’t know they’re loved?”

Spencer was looking at you but you didn’t dare to meet his gaze. If you did, you knew he would instantly understand what you were saying.

And yet, the pull of his eyes was too strong for you to not look. As expected, when you made eye-contact, his expression shifted to one of understanding. He was the first to look away.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you stood, clearing your throat and placing your cup in the sink.

When you turned back around, Spencer was there.

“Why would someone you love not know that they’re loved?”

He was closer than he’d been before, the air between you charged with the many outcomes the next few minutes held for you. When you spoke, it was barely audible but you knew he heard you.

“Because I haven’t told him.”

His hand moved to your cheek so, so slowly it felt like an hour passed. Once his skin met yours, you couldn’t help but lean into the feeling, eyes fluttering shut and pushing your face against his calloused palm.

Two little words was all it took to make you lose all sense of resolve. Two words that shattered the glass barrier between you that you hadn’t even known was there.

“He knows.”

Letting out the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, you slid your hands slowly up the front of his suit jacket, resting on his shoulders. He was so tall.

“How do you know?”

He hesitated for a split second, glancing down at your lips and then back up at your eyes. But suddenly, he pulled back, a wince ghosting over his face and shifting on his feet.

“Sorry,” he muttered, glancing down at his cane reluctantly.

Your finger moved to his lips, silently telling him to be quiet as you walked forward, slowly backing him up until his legs hit the seat of his chair and he sat down in it, staring up at you. Now that he was sitting, you moved to stand between his legs, holding the eye-contact with every ounce of energy you could spare.

“Does it hurt?” you repeated, fingers danced lightly over his left knee, touching just softly enough to tickle but not nearly hard enough to hurt. He kept watching you the whole time.

“No.”

“Can I see?”

He clearly had not been expecting that. It took a bit of stuttering before he was able to form a coherent sentence.

“How-how would you…? I’m-I can’t-I’m not supposed to roll up my pant legs.”

His eyes followed your hands as they slowly made their way up his leg to his belt, hooking underneath it.

“Like this?” it was more a question than an answer. He looked at you like he couldn’t quite figure out what you were planning. There was a wariness he was trying to cover up. As if you’d pull down his pants and start laughing at him. Then, he seemed to realize your intentions were— for the most part— pure.

He nodded curtly and you got to work unbuckling his belt, slowly popping open the button and sliding his zipper down. He lifted his hips so you could pull his pants down his legs.

You had to stop yourself from gasping at the sight of his thick thighs. He was much more muscular than you’d been expecting. Normally, he looked so skinny under his tight work shirts, you’d thought there wouldn’t be a trace of muscle beneath.

Pulling the fabric down, you let it fall to the floor, exposing his bandaged knee. Your hand was drawn to the wrap like a magnet, hesitating before making any contact, eyeing him questioningly.

He nodded again, watching you intently the whole time.

Gently, oh, so gently, you stroked the soft skin of his knee, running your fingers everywhere but where you knew the bullet had gone.

The tension in the room had risen considerably and you felt the urge to break it.

“Must be a hassle, huh?” you laughed softly, resting your hand just above his knee at the end of his thigh.

“Yeah,” he chuckled back, “makes it really hard to do lots of stuff.”

You crooked an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Oh? Like what?”

He seemed shocked by the question like he hadn’t actually thought about it.

“Just simple stuff. Mostly standing. Actually, it’s made it harder to use my right arm as well. Since I use it to hold my cane all day, it gets really tiring.”

“So you can’t really use your right arm? Aren’t you right-handed?”

He smiled sadly.

“I said it makes things harder.”

“Harder to brush your teeth and stuff?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, looking away and muttering, “and stuff, for sure.”

“What?”

“I have trouble…. Nothing, nevermind.” He shifted in his chair but his leg stayed still like he didn’t want to disturb your hand.

“Spencer, you can tell me! What, you can’t masturbate?” you joked, punching him playfully in the arm.

But his face went blank and his gaze snapped away from yours, cheeks turning a soft pink in the darkness.

Oh?

Ohhhhh.

You were suddenly painfully aware of how close your hand was to his….

Hmm.

Maybe?

No.

Well, it’s worth a shot.

“Spencer?” he reluctantly looked at you again, an embarrassed expression on his face. It didn’t stay that way for long, though, as your hand slowly inched its way further up his thigh and his eyes went wide, snapping to where your hand was.

“Do you want some help?”

He looked at you again, eyes slightly glazed over and you swore you could feel him shiver where your hand was placed on his inner thigh, inches from his underwear. When he realized what you meant, he softly gasped, looking around the room quickly.

“W-what did you say?”

Your fingers danced across the bottom hem of his boxers, coaxing a gasp from him as you trailed up to the waistband, hooking your fingers underneath and gently tugging.

“Do you. Want. Some help?” with each word you slid your fingers deeper in his boxers. You weren’t going to touch him, though. Not yet. You needed permission.

“Spencer?”

All too quickly, his hand wove through your hair and yanked your face up to meet his lips, crashing together in a mix of teeth and tongues. He tasted like bitter chocolate and sugary coffee. It took you a moment to comprehend that this was even happening. Your hand was still halfway inside of his underwear, so close to touching his….

He pulled back and instantly began to apologize and backtrack but you weren’t having that.

“Shut up,” and you climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs, making sure to avoid his injury, dedication all of your energy towards pulling his long locks and placing his arms on your hips, gently urging him to move you. His boxers were so thin and your skirt had ridden up so your panties were pressed firmly against something hard. You didn’t think too much about that, more focused on deepening the tender kiss into something more.

But you had to pull back to look at him, lips plump, red, and thoroughly kissed, a glaze over his eyes and a dopey smile on his face.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Spencer,” you admitted, breath ghosting over his neck, a spattering of goosebumps appearing in the wake.

“Me too,” he mumbled against your lips, hands carefully roaming up and down your back as you arched into him. The movement jostled his leg and he sucked in air through his teeth.

You froze atop him, pulling back to ask, “Are you okay?”

He nodded tightly, eyes clenched shut and you smiled softly at him.

“I hate that it took you getting shot for this to happen,” you joked, sliding your hands across his stomach under his shirt, reveling in the way he shuddered.

“I don’t mind,” he chirped happily, clasping his hands behind your back and giving you a dazzling smile.

“Listen, I know it’s late but… Do you maybe want to get a coffee? A proper one,” you added, nodding towards his discarded cup.

Clearly excited at the idea, he perked up a bit in his seat, wincing at the way your butt bumped his knee.

“I’d like that. One condition?”

You nodded.

“Help me up?”

Smiling, you stood up, pulled up his pants, slowly redid his belt, and held out a hand to help him stand. He picked up his cane from where it rested against the table.

“So long as you’re buying.”

He laughed, leaning on his cane and taking your hand in his, gently limping toward the elevator, you at his side.

“When don’t I?”

“Come on, moneybags,” you gently moved his arm so it was around your shoulders so that he could lean more of his weight onto you rather than the cane. “I think we’re gonna need lots of caffeine for the night I’ve got planned.”

“I can’t wait.”

TAGLIST

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss @happyiidiot @cielo1984 @thupidalethea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid @aloha-ashley-taylor @justchiara-02 @spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin @matthewreid @brokenanxiety @thatsonezesty13 @psychedellic-phase @beautifulalmondstudentduck @awhollandx @baddreamsandbrokenhearts @simp-for-mgg @swagdaddycam @gejatume @url-under-construction @radkryptonitepeanut @idontneedalltheseemotions @krymson182 @addie5264 @pinkdiamond1016 @gublergirls @georgia4287 @thineeminnie @untainted-memories @cm-is-kinda-cool

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid fic #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fandom #reader insert #cane spencer #reid #cane reid

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