#and like popular fics tend to get more attention because they’re passed around | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wincore · 3 years

Text

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan.

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly.

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that.

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you.

You shake it off.

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer.

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks.

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates.

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue.

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile.

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes.

“Sungchan?!”

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!”

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face.

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity.

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.”

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns.

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on.

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention.

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys.

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes.

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling.

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love.

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile.

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation.

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on.

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones.

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts.

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you.

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm.

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes.

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls.

"Do you have any bandaids?"

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.”

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you.

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind.

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers.

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans.

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him.

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade.

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan.

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead.

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly.

“Hm?”

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that.

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field.

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding.

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave.

“You should,” he responds, honest.

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile.

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties.

Only one more match, you remind yourself.

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this.

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all.

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile.

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty.

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you.

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading.

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care.

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk.

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild.

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct x reader #sungchan x reader #nct fluff #sungchan fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios #nct x you #sungchan x you #nct sungchan #jung sungchan #nct oneshot #sungchan oneshot #nct fanfic #sungchan fanfic #moonwrites

1K notes · View notes

bokettochild · 2 years

Text

SMASH Bros. Part 1

There is a part two but I might rewrite it, who knows!

Any'ays! This fic is to be blames on @tortilla-of-courage for their amazing art that made me go 'what if Sky and Wild' and thus this was born. (Please check out Tort's stuff, they literally inspire me so much and never fail to produce laughs)

When Link first met the kid, he was leaning up against his kart and chatting with a few of the other Smashers. The last race of the season had just finished, and after offering Peach his sincere congratulations, he had paused to chatter with the rest of his fellow racers. It had been a good day; he’d come in third place, much to the joy of himself and his friends, and he was looking forwards to going home and helping Zelda finish the house they’d been building on the surface.

As the other racers waved goodbye, heading off to their karts to settle their things, he was just turning to do the same when there was a flash from what Master Hand called ‘the loading zone’. All eyes turned to the stone stage; they’d all been intending on heading over there anyway to be ‘loaded’ out and back to their own worlds, but they hadn’t expected anyone else to be loading in.

Something he’d learned was that each racer loaded with a different sort of light. Mario (the annoying gremlin) and his crew tended to enter the field in a flash of red or green, Villagers tended to come with a swarm of blue and the occasional stranger, who usually identified themselves as being from the land of Mii, come with a white light. Link himself was the only one to come with the gold of Hylia’s favor, and he’d never seen someone else transport the same way. Well.... Until now.

The kid, because until they had an age Link figured it would be safe to call him a kid, was Hylian, dressed in a blue tunic and with short cut blonde hair, he stood on the stage staring down at the rest of them, his entire being the definition of uncertainty.

“Well look at that, they do switch you guys out for racing.” Samus quipped, raising a brow.

Her words gained an instant reaction, and over half of the field turned to him with varying expressions of disappointment.

“Nice knowing you, Link. We'll miss you.” Luigi called over, looking particularly sad. They’d bonded a lot about being boys in green and their shared annoyance with Mario’s need to be the center of attention most of the time. So, it was nice that Luigi looked disappointed about whatever they thought was happening, but that didn’t change the fact that Link had no clue what they were all talking about.

“Guys, I’m coming back next season, no need to get upset.”

“That’s not how it works, lil’ dude.” Samus sighed. “Links rotate. When a new one shows up, that means the old one has to leave or switch up his act.”

Hang on, what? “Links? Plural?”

“That’s right,” The Smash fighter groaned. “We never told you about that, did we? You see, Link, when you guys leave, the Smash team is gonna be coming in and setting up for our games, and it’s well known among all Smashers that when a new Link shows up, the old one has to pack his bags and leave. It’s a popularity thing, fans always like the newbie best and having two around just confuses people unless there’s a clear distinction, like with Mask and Tune; you couldn’t confuse those two even if you wanted to.”

“Who are they?” He’s only heard about those two in passing, and only in the end of a racing season when most of the players from the Mushroom kingdom are getting ready for the Smash Tournaments. He’d figured they were just more fighters, like all the other countless names he’s heard them all say, but apparently, they’re relevant to him?

“Links.” Samus chuckled, no small amount of warmth in her tone. “You’ll understand in a couple years or so. Anyways, good luck going forwards, dude.” And with those words the fighter was grabbing her helmet and moving towards the main track, likely to set up the fighting stages with the others who’d just arrived or who were staying.

Link found himself frowning, gaze turning to the kid on the loading platform. He’d never heard of there being multiple Links, but there was always a chance that someone else’s parents had been crazy enough to name their kid the same thing as him. It wasn’t entirely impossible, but for not one, but apparently four people with the same name to be called to attend Smash and Kart races? Well, that was a bit of a stretch.

Samus wasn’t the only one to wish him luck as he moved to loading zone. Slaps on the back and warm hugs were offered by almost everyone (Bowser nearly knocked him on his face with how hard he smacked his back). It was... nice, knowing they all cared about him, but he was still confused as to why everyone thought he wasn’t coming back. He was coming back, right? Maybe that was something he needed to talk to Master Hand about.

When he finally reached the loading zone, the presumed Link was still there, looking utterly and completely lost, and while a tired and maybe slightly annoyed part of him wanted him to just let the kid figure everything out himself (he liked racing and he was more than slightly upset at the idea of being made to stop), the other part of him, the part that was entirely incapable of letting a someone go without help when they needed it, made him stop and offer the other a smile.

“You good there?”

Cornflower blue eyes turned to him, wide and lost and so entirely reminiscent of Zelda's own that they gave him pause for a moment. The kid didn’t say anything in reply to him, just stared as if he could see into his very soul.

He shuffled slightly in place, uncomfortable with the attention and even more so with the silence. “Uh, I’m Link.” That sounded a bit rude, as if he was proclaiming himself the only one, and if Samus was right then he wasn’t so he added on. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Link.” The kid mimicked, head cocking and eyes narrowing slightly.

For an uncomfortable amount of time, the only sounds were those of the racers below bustling and chattering. Distant laughter sounded, making the new kid’s ears twitch towards the noise, but his gaze never left the confused Hylian Hero.

“Goodbye, Link.” Peach’s voice startled both of them, although the kid didn’t jump nearly as much as Link did at the princess’s sudden appearance, instead edging away with a wary look on his face. The princess offered the newbie a smile and then darted over to give Link a hug. “We’ll miss you, dear.”

Peach’s hugs were always a sort of uncomfortable affair, but he returned it the bast he could without becoming trapped in her hair. “I’m not going anywhere? Well, I mean, I’m going home, but I’ll be coming back soon.”

Peach’s pulled back with a smile that he’d only ever seen people give someone utterly clueless, and he felt it rather pointedly. “If you say so. I’d best head back to check on things in the kingdom before the Tournaments get started. Toodle-loo.” A wave of a gloved hand and the princess was moving to start on the ‘loading dock’.

The stage flashed red, light pouring down and doing whatever it did that made them form and disappear. The new kid (new Link) started, jumping backwards at the sudden flash. It would have been fine, and not entirely unexpected, but the kid’s jump distance was impressive and his foot skidded right off the edge of the stage, body following quickly after with a startled yelp that was cut off just in time as Link’s hand closed around the kid’s wrist.

Breathing heavily, both at the sudden movement of darting forwards to stop the newbie from offing himself, and at his own adrenaline spike, he found himself meeting the faintly glowing blue gaze of the other. “Careful.” It was a bit of a late warning, but it got the faintest twitch of a smile out of the kid.

He’d hauled the other up, leaving the both of them sitting on the stage as the new Link stared back at where Peach had just been a moment ago. “I’ve never been on this side.”

“Of teleporting?” Link asked, and at the kid’s nod he smiled. “Yeah, it’s pretty odd the first few times. You’ll get used to seeing people do it though, don’t worry. Just make sure to give them space when they do it so you don’t get carried off too, and-” He chuckled breathlessly. “Maybe avoid standing too close to edge.”

A firm nod and a glance at the offending drop-off assured him that the kid understood and would, hopefully, take his words to heart.

“So...:” He trailed off, unsure of what to say after that. The kid just stared at him, head cocked to one side and openly curious. The cagey stare was gone, perhaps in wake of having his life (or one of them anyway) saved by the other man.

“Where are we?”

The words startled him a bit, but he offered a lop-sided smile to the other and motioned to the tracks below. “Kart tracks. We race around and after the season is over, they turn it into a fighting arena.”

“Arena.” The kid repeated, nodding firmly. “I- I know that. But what-” A flush of pale and scarred cheeks. “What are karts?”

“I’ll show you.” He offered, jumping to his feet and offering the other a hand. “I don’t have to get back home right away anyways.”

Hesitation glimmered in cornflower blue as they darted from Link’s face down to his offered hand and back.

“Come on.” He urged again. “Unless you’re scared.”

The kid scowled, taking the hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet. “I’m not scared.”

“Good.” Link grinned, taking off towards his kart. The kid followed after.

Maybe he should have questioned where the kid came from; he was hylian but Link had never seen him on the sky islands before. Maybe he should have asked why the kid was there, or why the master sword was embroidered on his tunic. Maybe he should have put two and two together and recognized that the kid must be a hero like himself. But he didn’t, neither did, instead, they went down and spent an hour or more marveling at the wonders of karts and the playful racing going on by competitors for one last time before the track was taken down for the season.

“Link?”

Sky blue turned up to meet cornflower hues. “Huh? Oh! Hey kid! What’s up?”

The new Link (does he still count as new after a week?) shuffles his feet, standing in front of the older boy as Link works at mending his sailcloth. Technically, he should be home, Zelda is still waiting for him, but then he’d found out that this kid is essentially unfamiliar with everything and his bleeding heart made him stay. It’s not like Zelda would notice; time stopped altogether when he was in this place, so he could help The Kid out as long as he needed to before heading back and no one but he would be any the wiser to how long he’d been away.

“I-”

“You can sign, I don’t mind.” he reminds the younger. He’s learned that The Kid is more fluent that way, and easily more comfortable. Just because he himself isn’t as familiar with the dialect doesn’t mean he won’t make an effort for the teen.

‘Everyone is saying that I’m part of a smash? I talked to the big hand and it said I am smashing something. What does that mean?”

“Oh!” So, The Kid was a Smash hero, not a racer, maybe Link would get to return next season after all! “Here,” He pats the ground in front of him, smiling up at The Kid until the younger boy is sitting criss-cross in front of him. “I can explain. Smash is an event, what they’re getting ready for now. It’s a big game where a lot of warriors spar against each other and practice their powers. It helps them train their abilities and it’s apparently a lot of fun.” He shrugs. “I never joined, it’s not really my sort of thing, but I’m friends with some of the Smashers.”

‘We fight?’ The Kid cocks his head, one ear raising while the other droops slightly, it’s not something The Kid can help, he’s found, but the droopy ear makes his expressions far too endearing for a heavily scarred warrior. Still, it also makes him sad that The Kid can’t express himself properly anymore after whatever happened to make him like this.

“Yeah. Not to hurt each other of course, just to have fun.”

The Kid blinks at him, still not understanding.

“Have you seen foxes?” He tries, because if there’s one thing this kid seems to know it’s every single animal that appears in the stadium, and it’s only with his help that Link has learned as many as he has, so maybe this will work.

‘Red? Pointed ears? Soft tail?’

“Yeah, those ones!” Fi had to explain them to him but he’s picked up a bit from the other people he’s talked to. “Fox babies like to fight when they play, so they can learn to fight bad animals when they get older.”

‘No bad animals. Bigger animals.” The Kid signs, brows furrowing. ‘Bigger isn’t bad, just a predator.’

“Yeah, they learn to fight off predators by playing with each other. The Smashers do the same thing. They play so they can fight. Is that better?”

The Kid nods, tapping his fingertips to his chin in a sign of thanks and turning back to stare at where Pikachu and one of the other new Smashers are tussling in the grass. It’s not an uncommon sight right before the Tournaments, but the new Link stares at it curiously before walking away.

Link watches him go, curious, but willing to let the newbie explore on his own. When he needs something, he’ll be back.

He’s back.

The Kid comes back only an hour or so later looking confused and more than just a bit feather-ruffled. It makes Link laugh as The Kid sits down in front of him, brows furrowed. “I don’t like fighting.”

He raises a brow, dropping the repairs to his sailcloth. “Oh? Did you try it?”

“Orange lady.” The Kid points towards where Samus is standing and stretching near the newly erected fighting stage. “She made me fight her.”

“Oof.” The wince is in no means fake as he thinks of that. The Kid is only about his height, maybe a bit shorter, and in her boots Samus is easily a foot taller, and considerably more built than either of them. He can only imagine how that ended for the younger hylian. “Yeah, Samus is pretty scary, even if you have a weapon.”

“A weapon?” The Kid cocks his head, face blank as if the thought had never occurred to him.

Link blanches. “You fought her barehanded? How- Are- You’re-” He splutters for a moment more before dragging a hand through his hair, a startled chuckle rumbling out of him. “Wow. Even I can’t do that, and I-” And he’s killed a god, but he doesn’t really want to say that. The only reason it’s on his lips is because he and Groose have joked about it so much. It’s easier to process a joke than reality, so it makes thinking over his adventure less of a struggle if he can laugh at it all, but it’s not something he really wants to go spreading around. “Well, I’ve fought a fair share of monsters. Are you a brawler?”

The Kid shrugs. “What’s a weapon?”

Oh, so not a brawler, he just doesn’t know what a weapon is. Okay, that’s not concerning, Nope, not at all. “A weapon is a tool you use to protect yourself and others.” He explains. “Like Princess Peach uses her umbrella or a frying pan, or how Samus has those little cannons on her arms.”

The Kid just stares at him and before he knows it, he finds himself explaining as much as he remembers about weapons from attending the academy. The Kid nods along, a light turning on in glowing blue hues as one of his ears twitches. “Like the Master Sword?”

That gives him pause for a moment, but he nods. “Yes.” His voice is almost dreamy to his own ears. “Just like the Master Sword.”

The new Link nods, and again he stands, moving off into the crowd. Link lets him go.

The Kid loads out the next day, and Link has every intention of doing the same; he’s no longer needed and he’s dying to see Zelda, and Crimson, and even Groose (okay a lot Groose), but Master Hand holds him back (almost literally) and tells him to wait. And after spending a whole day either napping or helping to keep the Pokémon out of trouble, he realizes why. The golden light of Hylia’s favor shines on the loading stage, and then The Kid is standing there, hair singed, clothes filthy and face weary. He drops what he’s doing without question and moves towards the stage, only just managing to catch The Kid again as the younger hylian almost trips right off the stage rather than going down the stairs. The Kid just sags in his arms, looking defeated and exhausted.

Ah, a bad day. He doesn’t speak as he lifts The Kid up, startling big blue eyes open to stare at him, but when he smiles down at him The Kid relaxes in his hold, and while he doesn’t look comfortable with being carried over to the Smashers’ resting station, he doesn’t fight against it either. The Kid is out like a light once they’ve been sitting for a bit, and had Link not been napping much of the day he would have surely followed, what with a warm weight pressed against his side like a baby loftwing and all. He manages to stay up though, chatting quietly with Luigi while the other green-clad racer finishes touching up the extra karts one last time before they’re put away.

The Kid wakes an hour later, and after Isabella shoves nearly four plates down the kid’s throat he finally speaks.

“I found the Master Sword.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that. “Really?”

“Yeah.” The Kid wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and Link has to resist the urge to remind him that there are napkins available if he wants. “Impa said I would need it, but I-” cornflower blue become shaded with clouds as slightly charred brows furrow. “I’m not strong enough yet.”

He nods. Fi can be quite picky about things, and if she, in her sleeping state, could sense that The Kid wasn’t ready, she likely wouldn’t let him touch her. He’s surprised that the kid even needs her though, or that he can supposedly wield her at all. Isn’t it only meant to be the goddess and her chosen that can wield the sacred blade?

The Kid goes onto explain, in far more words than he’d ever used before, although it’s intermixed with quite a bit of sign, that he’s been adventuring for almost a month now, and it’s both the most amazing and most frustrating thing in the world. He likes exploring and gathering and working towards a goal, but he’s struggling with dealing with the ‘red people’ that keep attacking him, and monsters are also tricky. Knowing what he does though, Link can make a decent guess as to what the problem is.

“Maybe I can help.” He offers, and his breath is nearly stollen by the hopeful look in the Kid’s eyes. “Here,” He offers his hand. “I know you said you don’t like sparring, but let's try it the two of us, I’ll teach you a bit about swords, maybe it could help you!”

And it does. The Kid is a natural, and he picks down what Link offers him almost immediately. Before he knows it, they’re dancing around in a mock battle, the Kid’s eyes shining as a bright grin stretches over his face, wider with every clash and swing. When they collapse onto the grass beside the fighting stage, they’re both gasping for breath but laughing, adrenaline pumping through their slightly sore bodies as they lay there.

“Thank you, Link.”

“Any time, kiddo.” He smiles in return.

It’s a month of days before the Master Hand tells him he has to leave. In that time the new Link has been in and out, and Link himself has been able to watch as the Kid took on his first Smash Brawl, he’d cheered loudly the entire time and congratulated the kid when he’d tripped back over, sore and a bit bruised from facing off against one of the princesses, but grinning up at Link excitedly, hands dancing with words that the skyloftian is only just able to catch a few of.

He’s proud of how far the Kid has gotten, and he’s said as much, but he’s also homesick and all too glad to be told her can go.

The Kid isn’t nearly as happy as he is though.

“Do you have to?”

“Yeah,” He tries to smile but it’s bittersweet now to be leaving. He hasn’t seen his friends in months and he’s itching to do something useful with himself, no matter how nice his little impromptu vacation has been. But on the other hand, leaving means leaving the behind, and he doesn’t even know when he’ll be back, if he will at all. He got so caught up in helping the Kid that he forgot to talk to Master Hand about whether he was being replaced or not.

The Kid stares at him, sorrowful blue eyes nearly make him want to cry as the teenager tries to put on a brave face, doubt glimmering past the mask regardless. “I’ll miss you.”

He chokes backa slightly teary laugh, throwing his arms around the kid and hugging his tight. “You too. I’ll try and come back to visit though, even if I don’t race. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do us proud.” he smiles, fidgeting with the Kid’s rumpled tunic and straightening the shoulders out from where he’d creased them by hugging the other. “Show them what we Hylian’s are made of.”

“I will.”

For a minute, he lingers at the base of the stairs, gaze caught on the Kid who stands only a few feet away, the Master Sword no proudly strapped to his back after endless coaching and advice from Link on how to train himself to where Fi would consider him strong enough. The kid stares back at him, expectant and waiting, and while Link knows that what is expected is him to say a final goodbye and march up the stairs to the loading zone, something inside of him (his inner wish for a little brother maybe) has him doing the opposite. He darts forwards, catching the kid in his arms a second time and promptly undoing all the adjusting he’d just done.

“Last hug.” he whispers into the one droopy ear, before pulling back and once more adjusting everything the way it had been. The Kid grins at him, and while usually he’d be being swatted away, the other let’s him fuss until he’s quite satisfied.

There’s so much he wants to say, and no words to say it. He wants to tell The Kid he’s proud, that he’ll do great and to always have faith in himself. He wants to remind him that when he goes back to adventuring, he can handle whatever journey it is that he’s undertaken. He wants to offer a last piece of advice, because who knows when next The Kid will need it and he won’t be around, and he wants to hug him again and again to make sure that The Kid knows it’s okay to touch other people, it’s okay to love and it’s okay to care.

There’s so much that goes unsaid as he climbs the stairs to the loading zone. And when Hylia’s golden light dances around him and the world starts to dim, the last thing he sees are cornflower blue eyes staring at him from the edge of the loading platform, one hand raised in a simple sign that makes his heart clench.

‘Love you.’

When Link first saw the portal appear in the center of the new surface village, his first thought was that Ghirahim must have reappeared to cause shit. The skyloftians had all stopped what they were doing to stare at the thing in worry, confusion and not a little fear. Link himself had had his head up a chimney coating the stones, and it had been Groose kicking him that alerted him that something was wrong. And how wrong!

The black triangle floating in the middle of town was being avoided at all costs as people flocked towards Zelda, trying to ask the goddess incarnate what was happening and what they should do. Over their heads, cornflower blue locked with his own, a resigned yet desperate expression as she glanced over at the portal. The message was clear; investigate while she calmed everyone down. He nodded, pulling himself up and wiping clay off of his hands before moving towards the thing, Groose following behind.

The big man squawked in surprise when Link’s first action had been to try and touch the thing, and the Chosen Hero had been promptly yanked back by his friend as golden eyes had stared him down like he was crazy.

“You’re just gonna touch it? You don’t even know if it’s safe!”

“Well, it isn’t hurting anyone.” He mumbled, flushing slightly. It wasn’t his fault his first thought when seeing something new was that he wanted to touch it!

Groose had kept a sharp eye on that, murmuring about ‘stupid, curious little twinks’ until Zelda had finally joined them. It had taken much staring and even more discussing before it was finally agreed that this portal like thing must be explored, and that the best way to do that was have someone who knew this sort of thing handle it. Thus, Link found himself standing outside the portal with a packed bag of all his items (who knew what he’d be needing for this) and the sailcloth slung carefully over his shoulders. Zelda offered him a light kiss as she buckled the baldric of the Master sword across his chest.

“Good luck, Link. Be safe alright? I know Fi is sleeping, but with her you should be able to protect yourself from anything over there, but if it gets too much, come back for us, okay?”

“Okay.” He chuckled, pulling her in for another kiss, and pointedly ignoring how Groose rolled his eyes at them. “You guys stay safe too. Hopefully whatever this is won’t take too long.”

Zelda nodded, stepping back and folding her hands in that way that reminded him too much of her time preforming her duties as the Spirit Maiden. The thought was knocked out of his head though as Groose pulled him into a hug, lifting him straight off the ground for a moment as Link felt his ribs creak slightly.

“Good luck, Twink,” Groose offered by ways of a farewell, releasing the hero and holding him at arm's length as he leveled him with a sharp glare. “Don’t die, okay? Because if you make Zelda cry I will personally come find your body and kill you.”

“Okay.” He chuckled, something inside of him sighing relief as he was set back onto his feet. He started though when Groose grabbed the ends of the sailcloth and untied it, taking instead a fabulous blue brooch from somewhere and using it to fasten the fabric again.

“For luck.” The ex-bully explained. “Because I sure as anything am not giving you a kiss.”

That earned a laugh from both himself and Zelda, and Groose finally broke down and grinned in return, offering his fist for a bump before stepping back to stand next to Zelda, one big hand coming to cover her shoulder.

“You two look after each other for me, okay?” He tried to joke. “And don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“Hurry up and come back soon then!” Karane yells at him, grinning widely even as concern flickers in her eyes.

“All right, already!” He yells in return, and with a final look towards his friends he dives into the blackness.

What he isn’t expecting is to tumble out into a forest among eight other people who look equally confused and cautious at the existence of the others. He isn’t expecting to meet armor clad warriors and grouchy teenagers and short people who claim to be adults and a kid with a hood covering his face. He isn’t expecting to find out that they too are servants of the goddess when all of them recognize the sword on his back. He isn’t expecting to bond with these strangers and get to know them so well. More than anything though, he wasn’t expecting to see The Kid.

In the moment there’s no time to say anything, not when they’re all trying to figure out what to call each other and why they’re here, but later, after a few days, when things have settled down enough that they all feel safe sleeping around each other, he sits awake to watch the camp, gaze falling on the Kid, the Champion, Wild now, sitting a short distance away.

Neither say anything, but Wild waves a bit and Sky beams in return. They both go back to what they’re doing after that, but it doesn’t stop joy from flooding through both at finding the other again so unexpectedly.

#smashbrothers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu wild #link is sky btw #kid is wild #if i didn't make that clear #inspired by art #linked universe fanfic #idiot write crack #sorta #linked smash verse

28 notes · View notes

foreverfallingforthestars · 3 years

Text

Don't Say No

I'm super excited about today's prompt because it's something that I think is really fun and I got inspiration for this from a pjo fic I read months ago and I can't remember the title so, uh, woops. Either way, I hope you guys like it!

Word Count: 2068 Read on AO3 Rowaelin Month Master list

Day 3 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: Secret Relationship

~~~~~

Nox was tired. Everything at work had become mundane, and there was nothing interesting ever happening anymore. People came into work, tired and complaining about how it was the start of yet another week, and they would chatter about their weekend and any plans for after work. All Nox desperately wanted was to not be mind-numbingly bored as he read through yet another manuscript.

Thankfully, this Monday turned out to be slightly different than all the other Mondays. Nox knew something was up when the low toned chatter turned high pitched and excited as people wandered about the floor where Ashryver Publishing was located, pointing to the open door that led to their boss’ office. The layout of the floor was fairly open to allow people to easily converse with one another and move about the area while the higher ranking members of the company had closed offices, but Aelin tended to leave her door open to allow people to come in and speak with her.

Nox was fairly friendly with Aelin, and it was because of her that he’d gotten the job as a publisher reader when he couldn’t find a job, so he was understandably confused when there was nothing different about her when she walked out of her office. Her blonde hair was out as it normally was, and her makeup was done perfectly as usual. Nox’s eyes scanned over her as he tried to figure out what people were so huffy about this particular Monday until his eyes landed on the folder she was holding in her left hand.

“Holy shit, you’re engaged?!” he blurted out, seeing that diamond glinting off her left hand’s ring finger. Aelin looked down at her hand as though she were seeing it for the first time before rolling her eyes at him.

“Yes, Nox,” she responded with a small smile that was almost teasing. “I am.”

“I didn’t even know you were dating anyone,” he answered, leaning his elbows against his desk.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly something to publicize at work. I was dating someone, and now my boyfriend is my fiancee,” Aelin answered. Her eyes glanced about the room before she sighed. “Alright, everyone has two minutes to ask me questions.”

It was like a pack of hyenas had been given their first meal in days with the way the questions were thrown at Aelin, but she answered each one quickly and with her usual dose of sarcasm that made Nox smile.

“Have we met him?”

“Maybe, maybe not, and that is a serious answer. I don’t know if you’ve ever run into him on the sidewalk or in a restaurant or bar.”

“Is he good looking?”

“Yes, I have standards.”

The two minutes seemed to fly by with the way people barely got any information about her fiance, and Aelin looked way too pleased with herself that Nox couldn’t help himself. When she had dismissed everyone after giving people work, he made his way over to her office.

“So,” he started, leaning against the doorframe, “the big bad CEO of a publishing company has gotten herself someone who can deal with her.”

“If you’re trying to fish for information, you’re going to have to try much harder,” Aelin responded, a mischievous glint in her eyes that he’d seen way too many times.

“It’s okay,” he answered instead, “I won’t pry. I’m just happy for you, Aelin.” That brought out a genuine smile on her face before a ping on her desktop drew her attention from him for a brief moment.

“Ah, it’s actually good you’re here! We have a temporary hire coming in for the next month, or so, while we try to find someone else who can help you read incoming manuscripts. Let me just go get him.”

Nox chose that moment to sit down in one of the two chairs in front of her desk while Aelin stood up to grab her ID off her desk and walked out of the office. Nox waited for a few minutes, taking in the decorations of her office, including the small mementos she had scattered everywhere. The office had only been hers for two years, but it seemed as though she’d been living in that office for years with the way she had personalized it.

The company wasn’t an insanely big publishing house, but they had quite a few popular authors with best-selling books under their belt, and it was the intimacy of the employees within the company that drew aspiring authors and people passionate about books to it. Part of it had to do with the fact that it was a family business, Aelin’s mother owning it before she did, but part of it had to do with how much Aelin loved what she did. The photo of her parents, cousin, and sister-in-law alongside a photo taken at one of the staff dinners two years back was enough proof of how much she loved her work family as much as she loved her blood family.

The sound of Aelin’s heels and the sudden lack of chatter indicated to Nox that she was back with the new hire, who must be definitely impressive enough that his entry topped Aelin’s engagement news.

“Okay, Nox, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to introduce you two, but Nox Owen, meet Rowan Whitethorn, our new temporary hire.” Nox turned around to find himself looking at a man that he worked with for nearly a year before he left the company two years ago. Rowan was a tall man with platinum silver hair and a handsome face, even from Nox's perspective. The tattoos swirling down his arm definitely also helped with his popularity amongst women.

When Nox made eye contact with Rowan, the man smiled, and Nox nodded back in greeting.

“Isn’t that technically rehiring someone?” Nox asked, looking at Aelin and raising an eyebrow.

“That’s what I said when she offered me the position last week,” Rowan responded, sitting down in the seat next to Nox while Aelin took her seat across from them.

“It’s temporary!” she protested. Nox sent her a look that he knew she’d be able to read perfectly for that doesn’t matter, and with the way she groaned, he was sure that Rowan might’ve sent her the same look.

“Ugh, both of you get out of my face. Rowan knows what he’s doing so I doubt you need to do anything, Nox, but just give him a new manuscript that came in,” she grumbled, waving them off and going back to her computer.

Nox stifled a laugh as he got up.

“Hey, is it just me or did she get a lot hotter over the last two years?” Rowan asked quietly, and Nox had to stop himself from tripping and falling on his face.

“Man, she’s engaged. Like very recently too,” Nox responded just as quietly.

“Oh,” he answered, his eyes falling to the ground before snapping back up to Nox’s face, “well, if it’s recent then I don’t really mind.”

“Dude! That’s not okay!”

“Harmless flirting never hurt anyone,” Rowan protested as they sat down in their seats. Ever since the last publisher’s reader quit, that seat had been empty, and luckily enough for Rowan, that was his seat when he still worked at Ashryver Publishing.

“It will hurt if you break up her engagement.”

“If it breaks her engagement because I’m flirting with her, then she was never meant to be with that guy.”

“Oh my god,” Nox responded, turning back to his work.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Rowan spoke, and Nox reluctantly set his gaze upon the man, “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Nox disagreed, but he did his part, so Nox simply shrugged before getting back to work. Hopefully with enough refusal from Aelin’s side, Rowan would get a hint and quit it.

*****

Rowan did not get a hint and quit.

In fact, as the week passed and so did the following week, he only grew bolder in the smiles he would send Aelin, in the side comments, the inside jokes (since when did they even have those?), and Nox was getting frustrated.

“Dude,” he hissed as he pulled Rowan aside before they stepped into the restaurant that they were going to have a staff dinner at, “seriously, quit it. I don’t want you breaking Aelin’s relationship just because you find her pretty.”

“She’s more than just pretty, Nox,” Rowan responded, more serious than Nox had expected him to be.

“Yeah, well, then you know that she’s a loyal person. Don’t make her break that.” With the way Rowan had nodded, Nox figured that he had finally, finally gotten through to Rowan.

Unfortunately, throughout the entire dinner, Aelin and Rowan were sitting next to each other laughing, leaning into each other. He couldn’t believe that Aelin was actually falling for Rowan’s bullshit. It wasn’t even like he was flirting outwardly, either. It was the small things that he was noticing while watching the two discreetly. Rowan would give her a napkin when she needed it, pass her something before she even asked, simply knowing that she wanted it when her eyes had drifted over to it. It was insane how attentive the man was, and it wasn’t fair that the subtle flirting was actually working.

Nox couldn’t even say anything in front of everyone, lest he risk bringing...whatever that was out into the public where he was pretty sure Aelin didn’t want it to be. He was contemplating whether or not he should talk to Aelin about the whole situation with Rowan, and he was doing just that as he leaned against his car, waiting for her to step out of the restaurant. He’d left along with the others so as to not make things suspicious, but he did notice that Rowan hadn’t left the restaurant either.

Nox was just about ready to leave when he heard Rowan’s voice ringing through the parking lot. “Look, maybe we could just tell them.”

“No, it’s way too risky. The whole reason why we stopped going out in public together was so that we could get all the other stuff settled first,” Aelin responded. Nox was definitely intruding on a private conversation, but also, he was incredibly curious about what was happening.

“They’re all about to lose their minds with the way they’re trying to figure out what’s going on between us.”

“That’s because they’re not blind, Rowan,” she laughed as their voices got closer. “I don’t really know what I would say to them, anyway,” she finished just as they were in his line of sight — holding hands.

Nox’s brain stopped working right then because, holy shit, his boss was cheating on her fiancee with her employee.

“Nox? What are you still doing here?” Aelin asked, catching sight of him.

“I, uh, wanted to talk to you...but apparently you...don’t care about your engagement.”

“What?” she asked, clearly confused. Her eyes drifted to Rowan who simply shrugged with a teasing smile.

“You’re cheating on your fiance with Rowan!”

A snort escaped Rowan, and that was the moment where Nox could see understanding shine in her eyes. She turned to Rowan before elbowing him in the ribs, and then turned to look at Nox. “This idiot is my fiance.”

Nox blinked once, twice, trying to comprehend the words that had come out of her mouth. “This man? Your boyfriend?”

“Fiancee,” Rowan corrected.

“Shut up, man. You had me thinking she was going to cheat on you! With you!”

“Not going to lie, it was really funny, though. You were freaking out for the last two weeks.”

“That’s just cruel, dude.”

*****

Despite being incredibly salty about the entire situation, Nox did have to admit that it was hilarious seeing his co-workers’ reactions to the wedding invitations that clearly started that Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, their dear boss, was marrying Ashryver Publishing’s ex-employee (now known as the new literature professor at University of Doranelle) Rowan Whitethorn.

Never had he seen more outrage at the fact that the two had hidden their relationship from the entire company for so long, and honestly, Nox was surprised they had managed to hide the relationship with the way the two couldn’t go longer than five minutes without some form of physical contact.

It was sickeningly cute, and he couldn’t help but think that Mondays weren’t so mundane, after all.

#rowaelinmonth #day 3 #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #nox owen #romance #comedy #throne of glass #poor nox lol he really suffered

114 notes · View notes

herohotline · 4 years

Note

The students finding out Aizawa has a (very popular) hero husband?

A/N: SO... I used the quirk idea i have for an OC for the reader in this fic, since I’m not very creative with quirks. Still a reader insert, tho!! Also i kinda went OFF on this one lmaoooo

Reader’s Hero Name: Nebulous

Reader’s Quirk: Hallucination - Make one or more people see hallucinations, varying in detail and overall size based on how much he’s concentrating. The quirk is nullified if the person realizes what they’re seeing isn’t real.

———

If anyone were to guess what Aizawa’s opinion over the pro-hero Nebulous, they would probably assume it was a sour one. Whenever the hero tended to come up in conversation, Aizawa seemed to get irritated and tense- as if he despised the hero entirely. Personal, close friends, knew why he truly acted this way- but his students did not.

Right before Aizawa had come to class, the students were bustling with energy as usual. This time, it was over the fact that Pro-Hero Nebulous had gone undercover and stopped a human-trafficking ordeal taking place at an abandoned warehouse. Dozens of people were saved, and the fact that the organization had been revealed and busted, hundreds more would be saved as the day continued, all thanks to Nebulous and his quick thinking.

“Did you read the witness reports?” Uraraka chimes in to the conversation that the entire class seemed to be in, all of them sitting at their desks and turning their bodies in their chairs to be included. “Apparently a couple and some others saw the action!”

“Really?”

“That sounds so scary, though! Do you think they were seeing his quirk, even from that distance?”

“They had to! Some of the things that was reported was so bizarre-“

“Oh! Do you have a link to the reports?”

But just as Uraraka begins to bring her phone out of her bag, the door to the classroom slams open. The sound shocks a bunch of them as their heads snap forward, seeing Aizawa looking disheveled and grumpy in the doorway. But that’s nothing unusual.

In her shock, Uraraka drops her phone on the floor and it makes a sharp sound on the tile below before she quickly scrambles to pick it up. Aizawa just eyes her silently.

“You know phone’s aren’t allowed in class,” he says simply as he walks to the podium, placing a textbook on top with a sigh. “Put it away.”

“Y-yes, sorry Aizawa-sensei!”

After that, class silently begins as Aizawa talks about future plans for the class and training schedules. Most days, his class would be learning with at least one eager ear- but it’s not hard to notice he hardly has their attention at all today.

Needless to say, it irritates Aizawa greatly.

“Alright,” he slams the book he was reading from shut, the loud thud making his students jump again. His black eyes scan the room silently- their whispers and note passing has finally stopped, now that they notice how mad he is- until he finally puts his gaze on Midoriya. The one who’s been twitching the most this entire time. “Midoriya. Tell me what’s going on.”

Plus, the boy didn’t have it in him to lie. Especially not to Aizawa.

“M-me?!”

“Yes. Spit it out.”

Midoriya looks nervously around the room, swallowing thickly before he looks back to Aizawa. And then with a shaky breath, he let’s himself speak with a wince- as if he’s stepping right into a bear trap and he fully knows what will happen next.

“W-well, um, this morning there was a really cool undercover bust! Lots of people were saved, and it was... really cool.”

Aizawa squints. “I see.” Slowly, he leans his elbows on the podium as he stares at Midoriya. “Go on.”

The poor boy is practically vibrating from anxiety at his teacher’s cold stare. He has no idea why he’s harping on him like this, but Midoriya hates it. So much. “And the hero Nebulous was there, and uh- there were some eyewitnesses who saw his quirk. And he did a great job?”

There’s a chilling silence once Midoriya finishes- you could honestly cut the tension with a knife. But slowly, slowly, Aizawa leans back up, a frown etching deeply on his lips. “I see. That’s why you’re all so excited?”

The students nod.

“Mm...” The teacher grumbles, still offering nothing but silence until he finally speaks again. “Would you like to know more about the scene, then?”

They don’t know what to say. All of them look at each other nervously, feeling like maybe they shouldn’t know- but then Kaminari opens his big fat mouth. “Yes?”

It earns him multiple glares and harshly mouthed words.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what happened.” Aizawa walks over to his desk, letting the chair screech against the tile as he pulls it out and falls against it. “Pro-hero Nebulous has been working on this undercover case for a few weeks. He had been working on it with his agency, trying to find the best approach with the fewest casualties to confront this organization. But, he saw an opportunity arise. Without informing his agency or any back-up, he confronted the villains early this morning in their warehouse.” As he speaks, his voice is laced with a heavy, angry tone. His words are clipped and chilly as he crosses his arms and looks toward the class. “Can anyone tell me why that was such a god-awful idea?”

Momo slowly raises her hand, and she tries her best to speak evenly when Aizawa gives her permission to speak. But she was truly as nervous as everyone else, especially now that the teacher’s attention was all on her. “...Nebulous had gone solo into, assumingly, their base of operations. He most likely didn’t know the entire warehouse as well as the enemy, and his only advantage was a surprise attack. But the villains had numbers, weapons, and hostages on their side.”

“Perfect, Momo.” Aizawa grins- but it’s not a happy one. “As Momo has said, Nebulous made a very impulsive, stupid decision that could have gone sideways in an instant. This is a mistake that one of you could easily make-“ hey, ouch, “But for a pro-hero to make such a mistake is unacceptable. Does that sound right?”

The entire class agrees with a “Yes, Aizawa-sensei!” Much too terrified to disagree with him, if they even had the guts to.

“I will also tell you that Nebulous did not escape the ordeal unharmed. He is being held at the hospital being treated for a concussion and three gunshots.”

This was obviously news to the class as they look at each other with surprised glances, a few gasps being made. Uraraka softly speaks up, concern in her tone, “is he going to be okay?”

Surprisingly, Aizawa’s face softens, at least a little bit. He nods once, a heavy sigh leaving his body. “He’s a hero, so he's getting the best treatment he can. It is not the worst thing that could have happened, obviously, and more terrible things have happened, but there are more factors to put in place from his idiocy.” The teacher frowns again. “There are consequences for being stubborn and impulsive. There’s the financial side of things like hospital bills, there’s the people worrying about him such as fans and family, and the fact that he’ll most likely get laid off from his agency if things like this continue.”

He’s being unusually harsh, especially towards a random pro-hero, that much is made clear to the class. But perhaps he’s just trying to teach them something? Apparently so, because the next thing he has to say is, “so while Nebulous did his heroic duty... do not idolize him for making such amateur mistakes. Learn from it instead. Class dismissed.”

And the class left home room feeling confused and a little bit scared.

———

Rumors have started to spread ever since that day about Pro-Hero Nebulous and Eraserhead. After it left the classroom, more and more interesting theories came into bloom around the school. Were they archenemies? Did Nebulous do something to Eraserhead? Or were they secretly in love but can’t confess because it’s too complicated?!

The rumors could possibly be the death of Aizawa, and he makes sure to punish his class for starting them by making them train non-stop for an entire day. He supposes he did get a little heated, but at least he put it into some sort of lesson for them to learn from. But no one learned anything- they just tried to sneak into his private life instead. Which he was very adamant on keeping private.

And you, his lovely, stupid husband, respected Aizawa’s wish for privacy. You had since the very beginning- it’s why so few people knew you were married. It was hidden for the sake of Aizawa’s peace of mind and comfort, and he appreciated you greatly for it.

But after being married for a few years and the tense fight you had over your most recent scuffle, apparently you were done being patient with him. Especially after you had heard about the rumors flirting about the school he worked in.

———

You didn’t tell him what you were planning. Things were still a little silent in the house you shared that morning as you got ready for an interview with the press- the two of you kissed goodbyes, but that was about it. Of course, you understood your husbands worry over you, but enough was enough.

Entering the building you were being interviewed at, you searched for the perfect opportunity. For Aizawa’s sake, you wore your rings of promise around your necks instead of your hands, safely hidden. But today you wore it proudly on your finger- but you hadn’t let the camera see it yet.

Then your opportunity came. The girl interviewing you was young and sweet, her face dolled up for the camera with a pretty smile. But her face grew worried as she entered the next segment the casters had planned- “are you willing to talk about the recent trafficking bust?”

You smile at her easily, crossing your legs and nodding. “Yes, I knew it was coming eventually.”

You put your hands atop your knee- your ring now visible, but no one had taken notice yet.

“Well, I can safely say we were all worried when we learned about your injuries. Have you healed up fully, or do you have any permanent damage that might affect your future work?”

“Ah, right,” you laugh from your nose and squint your eyes. “Yeah, I’ll admit, it definitely hurt afterwards. My husband gave me an earful about it, I assure you, but I’ve fully healed up and should be ready to get back to work in a few days.”

“Oh, of course!” The reporter nods her head- and then there’s a shocked silence as her eyes grow wide. You can tell from one of the TVs in the room that the camera’s have zoomed in on you and your wide grin. “Did- you have a husband?”

Your grin grows wider as you nod. “Yes, I do. We’ve been married for a few years- I’m a little shocked that no one’s caught us yet, but Eraserhead is really good at keeping things hidden.”

Her eyes widen even more. “E-Eraserhead?!”

Chuckling deeply, you look at her in mock surprise. “Oh, oops.” And then you look directly into the camera, giving it a wink.

“I- I mean,” the poor interviewer looks at a loss for words as she sits still across from you. She looks at the cameramen, who just shrug at her. “This is... big news. I mean- married?”

“Yeah... Wanna see my ring?”

The interview has possibly the most viewers that the channel has had in over a century, and boy do you feel amazing.

———

The unfortunate thing for Aizawa is that since the students were so worried over your wellbeing, he decided to have them watch the liveshow in class as it aired.

Of course he noticed when you crossed your legs- of course he noticed the ring on your finger. You’ve been hiding your relationship from the public for so long, it was impossible for him not to. And a deep feeling of dread filled him once he remembered the look you gave him before you left the house this morning.

You were planning something. And he wasn’t going to like it.

“Well, I can safely say we were all worried when we learned about your injuries. Have you healed up fully, or do you have any permanent damage that might affect your future work?”

The students- the ones who cared, at least- had sat forward in their seats once the reporter asked this question. Surprisingly, you just smiled and laughed- your left hand twitching, but no one else noticed that but Aizawa.

“Yeah, I’ll admit, it definitely hurt afterwards. My husband gave me an earful about it, I assure you, but I’ve fully healed up and should be ready to get back to work in a few days.”

This is when it started getting bad.

Unlike the reporter, the girls in his class- along with Midoriya- noticed your little ‘slip-up’ right away. Jirou had reached out and grasped Momo’s hand in shock, which in a way was cute, but Aizawa was too busy wondering if he could stop you from what you were about to do if he jumped out the window right now and was just really, really fast.

“Did- you have a husband?”

“Oh my God, is this really happening,” Ashido holds her face in her hands as she stares at the screen.

“Who is it?!”

“Yes, I do. We’ve been married for a few years- I’m a little shocked that no one’s caught us yet, but Eraserhead is really good at keeping things hidden.”

Ah, there it is.

The whole class, as if on cue, starts yelling loudly and staring at their teacher who’s literally sitting dumbly in his chair, hands stuffed in his pockets and face halfway stuffed in his scarf. He hisses long and low as he stares at the screen in front of the class- looks at you and your stupid fucking grin.

“Aizawa-sensei, is he joking?!”

“Aizawa-sensei, let me see your ring!”

“Aizawa-sensei?!”

This is the worst day in history. This is the worst. Aizawa quickly stands up, shutting the TV off. His students are still screaming, some of them getting out of their seats, and the hero is just... he’s done.

“Alright. Class is over for the rest of time. Goodbye.” And then he opens the window next to his desk- the quickest escape route. He hears Midoriya yell at him that this isn’t the first floor, but Aizawa knows that. He just doesn’t care. Using his scarf, he lunges out the window without a care.

He heads straight home, where he knows you know he’ll be waiting for you. And oh boy, once you get home? You are not going to hear the end of it for a long, long time.

965 notes · View notes

deviant3lover · 4 years

Text

‘What kind of wedding (or non-wedding) each member of the shitty teen squad would want with their SO?’

A birthday gift to @rayadraws!

Putting this under Read More, because golly, you know me: it is long.

Garou

I think that, back when he was a child, he would’ve liked the thought of getting married. Back then, he wouldn’t have particularly deep thoughts about it, but he finds the thought of sharing your happiness and your life with someone who adores you a nice thought, and would look at other people’s weddings with wonder filling his eyes, a small smile on his face upon witnessing the jubilation of the newly wedded couple.

Nowadays, and much like before, Garou hadn’t thought much of it, if at all- until his S/O brought it up.

Unlike how he was a child however, he isn’t exactly into the idea of getting married. At least, not for the traditional ones.

Expensive restrictive clothing that he’d have to spend hundreds on? Inviting a bunch of relatives and organising them so that family drama doesn’t pop up before or during the marriage itself? Greeting and interacting with plenty of people he likely doesn’t have close relations to as they congratulate him and shake his hand, entertaining them and keeping them happy throughout the reception until they leave? The taxing and exhausting process of arranging and paying for everything: from the venue to the floral arrangements to the very napkins on each table?

Hard pass. On all of them. Even if he got a wedding planner, the diligent details down to every single thing he couldn’t care less about and needing his approval on them would annoy the hell out of him. And this is all for a ceremony that would take place for one day.

That doesn’t even get into the process of sorting through all the new legalities that comes with being a married couple. If he’s still a fugitive or wanted man, that’d make the process even harder due to his -ahem- status. Garou is a very athletic and energetic man, and odds are, while he definitely seeks some comfort in the familiarity of a domestic life and will welcome it, he’s not all that thrilled at the thought of giving up the more adventurous and exciting aspects of life.

He doesn’t believe in marriage. Especially since he’d know how much of a rip-off the marriage industry is. A genuine, heartfelt connection is a treasure all on its own that not everyone can find.

He was lucky to find you: and he doesn’t need a marriage certificate to prove that he loves you.

But if they insist and are open to still hold something similar to it…

For Garou, Destination Elopements are his bread and butter: where the two of them venture out into the world. New sights, new experiences, new food, new everything that the two likely wouldn’t usually have the time or money for.

All the money that would’ve been spent on the ceremony is instead directed towards an adventure that they’d share without worrying about having to impress or entertain anyone else. Sure, he does have to deal with all the paperwork, but if he seriously sees his partner in his future and has a stable life, he’s willing to suffer it for them.

Genos

Genos on the other hand, would not mind any of the preparations at all. In fact, you may have to stop him from going overboard with him stressing out everyone involved with helping the arrangements.

He’d request Kuseno to make him wedding arms. Some weapons are, of course, included in the engineering. Just enough to kill or throw off any threats that might come their way; be it a monster or nosy and intrusive paparazzi. But for the most part, they’re usually equipped with useful gadgets and gizmos that would cut down on potential stressors. Genos being Genos, some of them can be a little silly or embarrassing. (Installed cooler in his chest for champagne and chocolates? You can bet he has them and more. The rest would be stored into a backpack that he’d carry around if the two will be travelling for the honeymoon.)

Inspired by this fic, first, he’ll settle some legalities and potential problems that would surround him being a popular hero and a cyborg so that the wedding goes off without a hitch. That means making sure that the wedding is protected from monster attacks and making sure that his beloved fiancé(e) is safe from harassment and stalking from sleazy reporters looking to cash in on a big news story.

That means a good portion of his preparations is not only focusing on the arrangements for the wedding itself, it also means that he’d be settling and finalizing arrangements with the H.A as well so that his lover’s privacy and safety isn’t compromised. In the best case, he’d arrange security protocols so that these rights aren’t infringed or attacked, and if they’re willing, he’d arrange a room for them to move into at A-City’s building complex.

The wedding is for him, his beloved, and everyone important in their lives, and he’ll make sure it’s as close to what they envisioned as much as possible.

I’d imagine the proposal and the lead up to the actual wedding day is done in relative secrecy that’s held between a select few people who can keep quiet about the affair to avoid getting harassed too much, despite his pride and fervent passion about taking a big step in their lives. On the Big Day, by the time the news had been released (if at all) it’d be too late for the reporters or fans to arrive at the scene (if it’s held in an accessible place) to feast their eyes on anything juicy.

If there’s anything that needs publicity, such as the legalization for human-cyborg marriages, Genos would be succinct about it and doesn’t drag out the publicity anymore than what’s strictly needed.

However, if his S/O would want more attention than that, Genos would be more careful and meticulous on how it’d be executed. The popularity surrounding the event will attract a lot of attention, and that’s fertile grounds for breeding potential monster attacks and even assassination attempts. (Genos is no fool; he knows that some popular heroes have had attempts on their lives, or those on their loved ones, by commissioned assassins.) So, the security would be even tighter than before to make sure that unwanted audiences don’t get in, and threats are neutralised before they can cause too much trouble.

Genos would like a Traditional Wedding. Elegant, beautiful, and traditional. This is an important event in his life after losing everyone he had loved and lost before: a day won’t go by where he wouldn’t cherish his lover, and that won’t change when he becomes their husband.

Extra note: The ring bearer will be either Badd, Garou, or Saitama. As much as he loves them, he knows that they aren’t particularly attentive to small important details.

No matter which one it is, they manage to lose the rings at some point and will frantically look for them before they have to present the rings to Genos and his betrothed. The success of this and their fates depend on you, reader...

Badd

(It’s no secret that he has a hidden soft spot underneath all that roughness, so I always headcanoned him as a closeted romantic who’s only out to the people he loves and trusts.)

Before we start, Zenko is either the flower girl or the ring bearer. No matter what role she plays in the wedding, she will be in an important one.

Badd would be a mix between Garou’s and Genos’s extremes. Elated at the thought of becoming engaged to his lover and having the event be celebrated, surrounded by family and friends, but groaning at the planning and arrangements that come with it. This even extends to his preferences: he respects tradition and is definitely open to involving it in his weddings, but he also wants to leave a bit of room to be more creative and personalize the wedding for the two of them.

On that note, he likes Western better: Japanese weddings tend to be more private and formal, and while he values the idea of treating marriage as something to treat with reverence, Badd wants to live in the moment with the people that he loves so that this would be something that everyone can look back on with a smile on their faces.

“OI DJ! HIT IT!”

(I headcanon that he has a bunch of long-term childhood delinquent friends with Hearts of Gold that he loved hanging out with. He’d invite them, and they’d definitely get rowdy on the dance floor with the new groom and be playful with Badd’s newly made spouse, much to the endless entertainment of those watching.)

So out of the three, Badd is mostly open to all sorts of options, provided that they aren’t too restrictive, formal, and it leaves room to be rowdy and fun loving with everyone they’ve invited.

Wherever the reception will be, what Badd is set on is a place where there’s enough room to form a dance floor. Dancing and being silly with his friends and family, or having a slow dance with his spouse, Badd would want a dance floor. Ballroom style, on the flattened sands on a beach, on wooden plank flooring in the outdoors, Badd isn’t picky about where it is.

Another thing he’d love is that, though all three in the trio would hire photographers to capture the experiences and would likely keep them between themselves and their loved ones, Badd would love it the most and would want to hire a reputable one that wouldn’t mind capturing the more sillier moments at the wedding. He wants to tell these stories to those whom he holds dear to his heart.

He will cry at some point during the entire thing. Multiple times even. During the vows, he’ll struggle to keep his voice level even as some people in the audience are snickering and cooing over how emotional he’s getting.

And he’ll make this face:

When he sees his beloved walk down the aisle.

So, for him, Badd would at least want an Outdoor Wedding, if not a wedding that at least incorporates some aspects of it.

Oh, and for his childhood delinquent friends that he invited?

#opm #badd #metal bat #genos #garou #zenko #shitty teen squad #hellion trio #headcanons

65 notes · View notes

eclecticwordblender · 4 years

Text

Part 3 of the Mahabharata High school AU:

(I’ll attach the link to the first two oarts below. Check them out if you haven’t uwu <3.)

Junior students in the limelight:

Abhimanyu:

Is everybody’s favourite- seniors, teachers, principal, classmates, juniors- EVERYONE LOVES HIM.

Is literally perfection.

Very popular.

All the dirty politics which makes the people in school hate each other is put aside when it comes to going to the junior section and pampering Abhi.

Ma’am Kunti once saw Abhimanyu hanging out with Arjuna and Subhadra, she clicked a picture because she couldn’t stop uwu-ing.

Has all the good qualities he looks up to in his seniors.

Is a precious baby who must be protected at all costs.

“I’ll be better than the best someday.”- boy isn’t wrong!

Ghatotkach:

Super tall.

Chubby.

Is sick of being taller than all his classmates.

A senior, Hidimbi tends to use him as a comforting source. It is very wholesome.

Often goes to Bheema because he wants to be just as good at basketball.

“Hidimbi didi, thanks for the amazing food. I’ll now go practice basketball with Bheema bhaiya.”

Iravan:

The nice rich kid.

Always puts others before himself even at this tender age.

Stays mostly to himself.

But one knows he’s going to do wonders when he grows up.

Once Shiva cane to school for a guest lecture and say Iravan offering someone else his lunch and staying hungry himself. Shiva gave him a chocolate and told Iravan that whenever he needs help Shiva is just a call away. Fr though Shiva always checks up on this kid.

“Umm it’s okay. You can have my life too if you want.”

Uttara:

Has a twin brother.

Cute kid.

too mature for her age.

Heart eyes for cutie Abhi. Abhi heart eyes back.

Teachers don’t let her and Abhimanyu sit together because they don’t stop talking and smiling.

Is a pro dancer. Already has a diploma in Kathak.

Kind of emotional. Cries a lot.

But is still strong, regardless.

“No Abhimanyu. We cannot have a play date today. I have my dance performance.”

Uttar:

Uttara’s twin brother.

Overexcited but in a good way.

Brave.

Gets into accidents A LOT.

Uttar’s most visited spot is the infirmary. The person who knows him best is the school nurse.

Uttar always finds ways to miss dance and music and English class.

“Ah! A fracture again! At least I get to skip the annoying girly dance stuff though.”

Vrishaketu:

Abhimanyu’s bestf because they’re so similar.

Tends to be a little attention deprived.

Can make anyone a friend, LITERALLY.

Krishna group and Dury group come together when it comes to meeting this kid.

Arjuna and Karna put aside their differences to train him for soccer together. One can say Arjuna and Karna could’ve been very good friends had it not been for coach Drona.

“I wish Arjun bhaiya and Karna bhaiya didn’t dislike each other so much.”

(I didn’t include any more kids because there isn’t much to write and I don’t want to make this boring. I’ll leave footnotes if I use any other kids in the fic stories later.)

Present day staff:

(that I forgot to mention)

Virata:

Being helpful makes up for 90% of his personality.

Very approachable.

Never turns his students down.

Volunteers to take up a substitute class whenever possible.

“Let me handle this!”

Keechaka:

The only person who finds him tolerable is Sudeshna.

Extremely controlling.

Filled with toxic masculinity.

Pervert 2.0 (1.0 being Dushasana and 3.0 being Jayadaratha).

Keechaka was passing lewd comments to Draupadi. She was on her way to make him face the consequences but before she reached Bheema had already taken care of him ;).

Shalya:

Indecisive and flaky.

Messes up his schedule and ends up in the wrong classes.

Speaks a lot.

Stubborn.

Always confused.

“I don’t know what I’m doing dude!Let alone why!”

Sudeshna:

Toxic Gossip monger.

Can be very selfish.

Turns blind to her bestf, Keechaka’s glaring and problematic flaws.

Created a scene when Bheem gave Keechaka the beating he deserved.

Also defended him when Yuyutsu publicly called out and humiliated Keechaka for disrespecting women.

Hates Draupadi.

Intolerant.

Can be narrow minded.

“Keechaka isn’t wrong. You have a misunderstanding! These are the ways of the world”

Indra:

Coordinator but everyone ignores him.

Probelmatic in all caps.

Has to interfere everywhere.

Shows up at the worst possible times.

Creates unnecessary problems and then plays the victim card.

Sexist.

“This isn’t a woman’s work.”

Vichitravirya:

Grossly incompetent.

Old.

Is in school only because Satyavati insisted.

Irresponsible.

Doesn’t show up to classes and even when he does the students decide to bunk. He doesn’t even find out.

Has a history of showing up to classes drunk.

“No I’m not drunk. You are.”- passes out in the middle of a lecture.

Senior students in the limelight:

(that I couldn’t fit in the previous post)

Devika:

Quiet.

Happy go lucky.

Literally an angel.

Only one in class who finds Yudhishthir somewhat tolerable.

Is dating the head boy. Nobody understands why she thinks he has potential.

Vrushali:

Sorted and organised.

Probably has more kinds of stick notes than books in her school bag.

Highlighted text books.

Courageous.

Calm but will fight you.

Karna’s girlfriend. Only one who can scold him and show him the right thing to do, ngl.

Vrushali tries very hard to get Karna out of the Dury gang, however, doesn’t try to manipulate/control him.

Once Vrushali dragged Karna while he was mid conversation with Duryodhana, planning to pull a mischief that would land him into trouble. Everyone just stared. It was very iconic.

Valandhara:

Mountain girl uwu.

Industrious to the fullest.

The friend who can calm down Bheem.

Independent.

Vijaya:

Straight A student.

Gives Sahadev full on competition in topping the class.

Nerd.

Reads a lot.

Vijaya looks so cute with her oversized glasses barely able to rest on the bridge of her adorable button nose.

Sahadev fell for her over a conversation about the meaning of life. They kind of have a thing going.

“*random classic literature reference*”

Karenumati:

Is well aware about how pretty she is.

Nakul talks to her without hesitation.

A word around the campus says that Nakul might even ask her out soon.

Shishupal spread the word though, can’t say about the credibility.

Although for some reason Shishupal is very protective of her.

Plays bass and drums.

Link to part 1 of Mahabharata high school AU: https://eclecticwordblender.tumblr.com/post/625462681921568768/foundation

Link to part 2 of Mahabharata high school AU: https://eclecticwordblender.tumblr.com/post/625553068102139904/senior-students-in-the-limelight

This is the last post dealing witch characterisation. I’ll be publishing fictional stories after this. Will leave footnotes if I use a character I haven’t mentioned yet. Let me know if you want me to write about a specific character (via asks, comments or direct messages).

Tagging fandom mutuals because I need attention to matter in life: @bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams @supermeh-krishnafan @soniaoutloud @1nsaankahanhai-bkr @lemponkoira @incorrectmahabharatquotes @chaanv @hoeticulture @hindumythologyevent

The support on this series has been overwhelming so shoutout to these people for all the validation: @the-rambling-maiden @muralofmyths @starsailororastronaut @blueguardian1306

Also, y’all check out @askhindumyths if you like such content uwu.

54 notes · View notes

quickspinner · 3 years

Note

For the ask meme, how about V and Y? 😊

V: Are there certain comments you’ve received on your stories that have stuck with you?

Lots of comments stuck with me, tbh. Like most creators I love getting feedback. I live the ones that tell me they were having a hard time and I made their day better, and I love the funny ones where someone just loses it or has a funny turn of phrase. I love the ones that validate a choice I made and later questioned whether I should have done that. I love the ones that say they just bungee my work. I really loved the few I got on Hey Gorgeous that were happy to see a stutter that wasn’t played for laughs. A lot of comments float around in my head and I think about them at various times when I need a smile. 🥰

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories? Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?

Let me say that I’ve been really fortunate overall and I appreciate all my readers so much!

I’m literally always surprised at which stories get more traffic vs. others. I’ve had things where I spent a ton of time on them and got really invested, and didn’t get the response I was hoping for, and I’ve had short little things I dashed off on a whim explode. Some of my favorites got more popular than I expected, sometimes I’m disappointed because something I really loved went comparatively unnoticed. Ultimately my satisfaction comes from finishing the story and putting it out there—but nobody likes effort to go unappreciated, either.

With that said, a huge number of factors go into whether something “hits” or not, very few of which are actually within the writer’s control. Some of it is subject matter and reader attention span; people like the short, the funny, the sexy, and frequently the salty. Some of it is timing; what time of day, what day of the week, what’s going on in canon at the time, is it a holiday, etc. It takes time to build an audience, too. A few months ago I reblogged a piece I had done when I first started out posting ml fics; it had maybe 9 notes, and by the end of the day after I reblogged it, that number was significantly higher. The story was the same, but I had more eyes on my blog, because I’ve been writing for more than a year now.

I do pay attention to what things get popular and try to notice the factors involved. I want my work to be seen and read, and I’m not ashamed of that. I try to pass the things I’ve observed on to other writers who are interested in getting more traffic, for what my singular experience is worth. There’s definitely things you can do to build your audience and boost your overall readership. At the same time, chasing the numbers is a frustrating and usually fruitless endeavor, partly for the reasons above, and partly because it’s kind of like a drug? When you first start out, you get excited about any number, and then you get used to having a few views every time and you only get excited when there’s more than usual, and so on...so if you’re trying to find satisfaction in the numbers, it’s easy to get jaded and stop being grateful and start feeling slighted or inadequate, especially if your numbers take a dive for whatever reason—and said reason might not have anything to do with you, as per above.

So, the numbers (which is generally what I think of when we talk about popularity—how many likes, reboots, kudos, comments) matter to me, but they’re only one measure, and I try not to let them be more than an affirmation of “hey, you’re doing good.” I use reader responses to a story, or to a wip Wednesday or SSS, to sort of guide my priorities, but only within the limits of what I’m already planning to work on. I’m a people pleaser and I want to give readers what they want to see, out of the ideas I’m interested in writing.

I don’t write stories I’m not passionate about, and I don’t write stories just to get hits. If I’m not enjoying a story, it’s not going to get finished or it’s not going to be good. I write the stories that I want to read, and for the most part (aside from the appalling number of typos that WILL persist) I enjoy going back and reading my old works.

So, my philosophy is, I’m writing for myself and my closest friends first, and for the public at large second. I write the stories I want to see, and I don’t conflate “this story didn’t get a big reaction” with “this story wasn’t good,” because sometimes both those things are true, and sometimes only one of them is. I take into account the things I’ve observed over time, and I learn what I can from the numbers, and then I try not worry about it. I don’t bemoan the effort I’ve made as wasted just because it didn’t get the response I wanted, and I remind myself that I’m not entitled to anyone’s attention. I try really hard not to compare myself with others; I’m not writing their stories, I’m writing mine, and if theirs are what the readers are wanting today, that’s not necessarily a reflection on either of us. I don’t always succeed and there are days when I mope a little, but I do my best to keep perspective.

All that said, I didn’t get to this level of comfort with myself and my work overnight, and part of that process has been accepting that there are flaws in my writing that I don’t care enough to change. When I sat down to hit that “publish” button for the first time (this time; I’ve been in and out of fandom for years), I had to give myself a pep talk that went something like: “who cares if it sucks? You didn’t set out to write the next great novel. You wrote this story for fun, and the worst thing that happens is nobody reads it. How would that be different than it just sitting in your docs forever? Just put it out there and let it be bad/fluffy/self-indulgent/rambling and who cares?”

So there’s my long and rambly answer to a complex issue that affects a lot of creators 😆 Thanks for asking! 💜

Ask meme

#quickanswers #ask meme

3 notes · View notes

enter-the-nomicon · 3 years

Note

Hola!!! Mi pregunta es la siguiente ¿Cómo serían los Norisu de haber vivido en la época moderna? Y mi segunda pregunta sería la siguiente. ¿ En el Reescribir del fic ETN incluirlas más de la demonologia japonesa? Recuerdo que en el cap donde Randy quemo la máscara salió un pez, creo que era un Namazu... Eso significaría que no solo la máscara esta hecha de las plumas dle twngu sino que también de otros demonios más...

Because of how big this is and because I'm not fluent in Spanish, I'm writing this response in English 😅

1. I think people have done plenty of modern-day AUs, but usually with just Nomi. However, the entire Norisu family? Now that's a bit of a tough question to answer.

I can see the Norisu coming from a fairly wealthy or prominent family, perhaps even on the same level as McFist. They don't like to wave this fact around, and live modestly. They have a huge house with enough rooms for everyone, but otherwise it's not as massive or ornate as the McFist mansion.

Now, I know Nomi's family are all warriors in ETN, but modern day warriors tend to look like soldiers and police (and well ACAB), which no thank you. Instead, they're all traditional martial artists. Nomi's parents would likely be business owners of sorts (don't ask me what since I have zero knowledge on this lol). Meanwhile, Nomi's grandpa would run his own dojo and host classes for kids. :)

I know a lot of these AUs have Nomi as a jock who plays football who has a heart of gold, but it's honestly the most accurate. Nomi would be incredibly popular and intelligent, catching the eye of most people, but they would probably only hang out with Naru, Randy, Howard, and a few of the other kids that join them every once in a while (like Theresa, Debbie, etc.) despite being a sophomore. (Nomi would not care about grade years, and they'd think the entire idea of keeping classes separated is stupid.) Nomi is torn with what he wants to do in the future, but they are considering teaching since they excel at teaching. 😉

Naru, being a year younger, would likely join football with Nomi, if not, I can also see him in soccer. He's a ball of energy and that would be perfect for him hahaha. He wouldn't have the best grades, but he is definitely not failing. He basks in attention and loves causing a little trouble, both in and out of school. He'll usually get himself and Nomi in tight situations, but Yui is always there to help weasel them out. Naru can also be a bit flirtatious, but that's less him being interested and more him loving to tease. He…. Has no idea what to do for a career. He thinks sticking to one job forever is boring, and tends to drop new hobbies relatively quickly. (Something that usually exasperates his entire family.)

Speaking of Yui, she'd be in college at this point, but she would still be fairly good friends with Heidi (who was a freshman when she was a senior). In high school she was basically the most popular student, and she was part of a ton of different clubs, school activities, and events. She also helped kickstart having a school news, something she helped pass onto Heidi. She's still very much the kind-hearted person she is in ETN, but here she isn't bogged down with the responsibility of caring for her family. While Yui might be in college, she still isn't sure what she wants to do for a lifelong career since she can honestly do anything she feels like. Yui has considered becoming a therapist, a news anchor, an online streamer, etc. but hasn't settled on anything.

Daiku was valedictorian in high school, popular, but very uptight. He definitely had a fanclub and broke plenty of hearts with his lack of interest in anyone. Like Yui, he's currently in college and unlike his younger sister, he does have a solid idea of what he plans to do for a career. He studies fitness and health and plans to open his own gym, so he's also studying up on business and finance. He struggles with people, and he comes across as very blunt and cold without meaning to, which hinders him when it comes to wanting to open up a gym. (People get intimidated by his lack of a smile 😔)

Ming and Mei are more or less the same 😅 They're attached at the hip, and pretty much spend all their time together. However, they might butt heads with Naru from time to time. Ming and Mei will sometimes hover around Yui, but that's if she's not too busy.

2. Canonically, the mask is exclusively made from Tengu feathers, but what actually gives it power? That is a bit of a mystery, and I wouldn't be surprised if other demons and supernatural beings were involved.

As for ETN? I don't know how much I would delve into this. I toyed around with the idea a bit-- Howard representing the Tengu, Nomi a dragon, Randy a carp, etc. However, I don't have solid ideas at this point. Plus, the show never makes this a huge deal, and the only demon it focuses on ends up being the Tengu

Idk, feel free to share some ideas, but who knows if I'll actually go into this.

#asks about etn #rc9gn #human!nomicon #nomicon #Norisu Nine

3 notes · View notes

jinmukangwrites · 5 years

Text

Caged Bird

Prompt

Summary: The desert is a heartless place, and traveling unprepared is about the worst thing you can do. Good thing Wild has some friends.

Warnings: mentions of non consensual drug use. Not much else. It's not even that angsty. What a rarity!!!

Notes: once again I stuff a hc into a prompt it has no business being in. Oh well. This one is a popular hc, so I'm sure you'll enjoy it. I've been wanting to write a fic about it for awhile.

-o-o-o-o-

Twilight is missing. It's been twenty-four hours, Twilight is missing, and Time is losing his mind. A lot can get done in a day, especially in the hands of Wild's Hylia forsaken Yiga Clan. He can't stop thinking about it as they search for Twilight, for the Yiga hideout, what can be done to Twilight. Even the slowest of tortures only need a few hours to begin showing effects. Wild insists that the Yiga aren't interested in torture and killing, there is only one person who they want to do that to and he's not the one who's been taken. They'll just keep Twilight locked away, as a trap to get to Wild. He won't be harmed.

Time has a hard time believing it, especially since Wild seems to be saying these things to convince himself more than the others. Time will admit he's also a worry wart and will worry about Twilight whether or not there's proof that he's okay.

When Twilight was first captured, it was after an ambush. They had been attacked by monsters on the way through the canyons to Gerudo Desert and Twilight got injured. The were low on healing supplies so when a man offered to help them they didn't question too much. Time knew he should have listened to that gut feeling he had that the man wasn't all the he seemed, especially when he insisted he needed privacy to tend to Twilight's wound. Even Wild looks a bit apprehensive about it, but Twilight, bleeding out yet still somehow hopeful, said he'll be fine and not to worry.

Then hours passed and Time couldn't take the waiting with no word anymore. He marched up to the cart the man had taken Twilight inside and found it bare, a note with the simple words "You know what we want, Hero" and the drawing of a distorted Sheikah symbol drawn on to it sat in the middle of the floor.

When he told the group, Wild looked like he had been about to grab the slate and teleport to wherever the Yiga hideout was and offer himself as trade at that second, but he thankfully listened to Time when he said they needed to stay together to have a better chance of taking these guys down. Unfortunately, the slate only worked to teleport one person, so they all had to walk as quickly as they could into the desert as the moon reaches its highest point.

There is not a single member of their group not shivering by the time they reach the canyon leading into enemy territory. With most of the group used to warm weather, only Wild, Sky, and Legend ended up prepared for the chill that pierced through skin and bones. Wild thankfully had an extra tunic and lended it to Four, whose small body was shivering within seconds. The rest were forced to wear multiple layers of clothes.

"A small group of us can go in," Wild says as he glares at the surrounding cliff walls, looking for any kind of movement, "sneak in and grab Twilight. The holding cell isn't far from the front door."

"How much experience do you have with this place?" Time asks. Wild looks down from the cliffs and at the ground.

"Too much."

It is decided Wild, Hyrule, and Time would be the ones to sneak into the hideout, with them being the stealthiest in the group. That left Four, Sky, Warrior, Wind, and Legend to stay behind as backup, ready to leap the moment Wild gives Wind the signal through the Sheikah Slate to the necklace Wind wears around his neck. A very useful tool of communication.

They head off, nothing but the sound of their footsteps on the loose, gravelly sand to accompany them. The moon is starting to lower and the temperature rises dramatically, a bad omen of what's to come when the sun rises.

"They don't have many people on watch," Wild whispers, yet in the secluded canyon with an endless amount of ambush opportunities awaiting them, his voice seemed too loud. "We may have to fight one or two of them, but they won't alert the rest until we're actually inside."

"It would still be best not to be spotted," Time says and Wild nods. Hyrule walks besides them with his jaw set in determination.

They chose to walk in silence from then on, to lessen the chances of being spotted, but Time knows better. The Yiga know they're coming. The know Wild is coming. They'll be prepared, if they're smart of course. Time would have soldiers waiting in every nook and cranny, he'd have the hostage where he could see them, he'd make sure he gets what he wants.

Images of Twilight bloodied and tortured flashed in his mind and Time has to physically shake his head to be rid of them. Wild says the Yiga aren't interested in hurting anyone other than Wild. He has to believe that, or at least consider that the first possibility else he will completely break down. Twilight is fine. He's probably in a cell sitting back and waiting for rescue. Not a single scratch on him.

He tries not to think about the previous wound Twilight has gotten and if it has been treated or not.

Wild takes the lead the closer they get to the hideout. He crouches down and silently moves to a large boulder by the cliff wall and takes out his Sheikah slate. There's a faint blue glow as strange pixels and characters surround his body and in the blink on an eye, Wild is wearing something very similar to what the Sheikah wear. To what Sheik wore.

Except... It is pink.

In his hands are two bottles filled with a thick purple looking substance. Time gets a bad feeling that Wild expects them to drink it.

"Unless you have something of your own that makes you stealthier, you should drink this," Wild whispers, confirming Time's fear.

Hyrule wrinkles his nose and is the first to reach towards the potion. He opens his mouth but Wild quickly cuts him off.

"You don't want to know what it's made of."

Time has to remind himself that Twilight is in danger before he reaches towards the potion. When he opens the lid a stench that smells as bad as the potion looks wafts up towards his nose and he almost gags. Besides him, Hyrule pinches his nose and takes the contents down in one swallow, like a shot. He blinks a couple times and then grins. "That doesn't taste half bad."

"Right?"

Time rolls his eyes and takes his share. He almost throws up, yet he also feels more… sneaky. When they begin to creep towards the hideout once again, Time realizes he can barely even hear his own breathing. Both Wild and Hyrule seem to blend into the surroundings despite Hyrule's green tunic and Wild's bright pink, he only knows they're there because he's seen them just a few seconds ago. Granted, they're not invisible, just… it seems the suit and the potions make it a bit harder for them to be noticed. They're more easily slipped over by the eye. Time wishes he had this when he was going through the Gerudo fortress so long ago. Really would have helped…

Wild grabs both Time and Hyrule by the upper arms to get their attention, and when he sees both pairs of eyes on him he points forward to the approaching end of the canyon. Time can see strange statues lining the jutting cliffs with the warped Sheikah design drawn on talismans and hung around the faces. Ropes hung high and low like a system of clothing lines with red papers draping down. Time doesn't have to ask, he knows that now it gets hard.

Wild leads them forward and they follow carefully, hugging the face of the wall. It's clear that Wild has, in fact, snuck around here multiple times if by the way he moves is any indication. He knows exactly where to step and what areas have the smallest chances of allowing them to be seen. In a few minutes time, they are right at the doorstep of the hideout without having met a single enemy.

Time doesn't know whether that's because Wild knows exactly what he's doing or if it's because there's something awaiting them inside. Judging by the way Wild's eyebrows are slightly pulled together, Time won't place his bet on the former.

They walk inside, the walls tower over them and Time can't help but marvel at the architecture, but his anxiety sparks when they reach a large, circular room. A dead end.

"What now?" Hyrule asks, he's showing no effort at hiding his panic and confusion. Wild ignores them and walks towards one of the sections of walls hidden behind a large tapestry.

"On the other side of this," he says as he pulls out an arrow and sets it alight, "could be an army."

"Doesn't matter," Time finds himself saying. "Twilight's there."

Probably hurt. Probably confused. Probably in pain. If the way Hyrule nods and pulls out his sword or the way Wild takes a deep breath is anything to go by, they're thinking the exact same thing.

"The cell is straight up the staircase. If we're lucky, that's where Twilight is." Wild gives them a half smile, as if trying to give them a bit more moral.

"And if he's not?" Hyrule asks.

Wild is silent for a second before he touches the arrow to the tapestry. The flames instantly clutch to the fibers and travel up silent and efficient. "If he's not, I have some bananas."

Time doesn't ask what that means.

Time almost passes out from the sheer amount of relief that courses through his body the moment they get up the staircase. Twilight is there. Time can see him lying there on his side, face turned towards the hard stone floor, halfway obscured by the wooden bars of the cell. It's too far to tell, but he looks unharmed. There's no red. There's nothing indicating injury. If fact, it looks like the Yiga has actually wrapped up Twilight's wound. It seems that the Yiga really are just interested in killing one person.

There's no guards, no anything. It's a clear shot to the cell and even Wind, the most reckless of their group, could tell that that doesn't bode well at all, if he were here of course. Time and the others stand still across the short expanse of room, it's agonizing. He can see Twilight, they've found him, but something is wrong, or well, he knows what's wrong just not why.

The lack of guards is at the top of the "something's wrong" list, how Twilight isn't moving is number two.

Hyrule shuffled over to the ledge to their left and looks over. He shakes his head and shrugs. No guards down there either.

Time can see Wild visibility swallow before he sneaks forward. He holds a hand back, telling Time and Hyrule to stay there. Time almost argues, but he also knows that Wild has done this before. Wild knows the entire layout and most of what can go wrong. He's the most experienced, and just because Time is yearning towards grabbing Twilight himself and getting the hell out of there doesn't give him the right to step on Wild's toes and potentially mess everything up.

It's probably a good thing Time and Hyrule stayed behind, because right when Wild gets a few feet from the cell, a swirl of tailesmens and an excited laugh announces the arrival of one of the dreaded assassins. Wild jumps backwards and instantly has a sword pulled out as a Yiga Clan assassin appears right between him and the cell.

He's tall, Time thinks. Big, muscular, and weilding a pretty wicked looking sword. Time tenses and is about to sprint out, but Hyrule stops him. His lips open, mouthing words.

They haven't noticed us.

More Yiga appear, there are two hanging out in the cell, dangerously close to Twilight, and another three outside the cell, standing in front of Wild, pointing arrows and raising scythe-esque weapons threateningly.

"Welcome, hero," the tall one says. His voice is deep, surprisingly deep. The other Yiga are all smaller, yet their laughs at those two words are just as intimidating as the big one. "I take it you're willing to trade?"

"I want proof he's okay," Wild says. His voice is calm. Dangerously calm. Like there's a storm about to hit.

One of the enemies inside the cell chuckles and roughly kicks Twilight in the gut. Twilight lets out a groan and curls in on himself. Wild seems to visibly relax while Time tenses up more. Just wait until these guys get a taste of his mind. Oh they'll be sorry.

He doesn't realize he's verbally growling until Hyrule slaps his shoulder, thankfully both noises are hidden by the laughter that sounds in the room.

Wild drops his sword and lifts his hands up in surrender. "You promise you'll let him go if I give myself up?" Wild asks.

Time's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What is he doing?"

"Watch," Hyrule whispers, grinning.

So Time does.

The faces of the assassins are obscured by masks, but the grin on the big ones face can be heard as he steps forward, hands twitching with excitement. "Of course."

The others approach too, to do what Time doesn't know. And he will never know, because the moment they get close enough, Wild snaps.

Lightning surges from out of nowhere, Time can feel it run up his spine to the base of his skull, filling the very air with electricity. The Yiga scream as green bolts of pure fury rain down upon them. It only lasts a few seconds, but it's enough for Wild to pick up his sword and slice at the leader across their chest as they're still dazed. Wild drops down when an arrow flies past his head. Wild is outnumbered and he's probably majorly pissed off every Yiga assassin in the room, but his also grinning wide enough to crinkle his eyes. He turns before anyone else can make an offensive move against him and launches himself off the platform onto the ground below. He sprints off with a sarcastic solute.

"Get him!" The big Yiga screams, his chest is bleeding but he seems too angry to care.

With the rustling of paper and laughs that can only be described as a hound dogs call, Time and Hyrule are left alone.

Time rushes forward with Hyrule following close behind not even a heartbeat later. He doesn't know what Wild's just done with the lighting or whatever, but he does know that that's not important right now. What's important is that Wild looked confident enough to take on the whole base, and he's left the path to the holding cell wide open.

There's an explosion deep inside the building that shakes the floor as Time grabs onto the wooden bars and forces the cell open. Twilight is still, not reacting at all, which is not a good sign. Time lowers himself down and cuts the rope holding Twilight's hands together behind his back and then lifts him up so he's somewhat sitting against Time. His body is like a ragdoll, limp.

Twilight blinks lazily, his eyes not quite focusing. Time can feel his heart painfully tug because something is not right. He puts a hand against Twilight's cheek and Twilight seems to lean into it.

"Pup?" Time asks. Hyrule bends down and he instantly goes to the bandages wrapping around Twilight's chest.

"Hmmm?" Twilight asks. He blinks more and it takes a few seconds for his eyes to finally somewhat focus. He opens his mouth and says a word, it sounds close to Time's name but it's all slurred and mumbled with groggy vocal chords. His pupils are dialating.

"Hey, pup," Time says again. Besides them, Hyrule is now checking the wound, it's surprisingly stitched up and looking good. Something else is making Twilight woozy.

The sound of another explosion meets their ears. Wild must be having a field day, and while Time has complete faith in Wild's abilities as a hero, he knows that the longer they stay in the cell the bigger chance they have of getting caught.

"Okay, up we go," he grunts and slings Twilight's limp arm around his shoulders. Twilight is forced to his feet as Time struggles to lift his dead weight, Hyrule quickly takes the other arm and lessen the load.

Twilight doesn't even bother to get his legs working beneath him, and if the way his head is lolling like a bobble head says anything, he probably wouldn't be able to help them walk even if he were coherent enough to. Hyrule shoots Time a worried look and Time sets his face in grim determination. Get to safety first, then check what's wrong with his charge.

The walking goes by slowly, too slowly. Time feels like he's barely managing to go a snail's pace. All he wants to do is more thoroughly check over the pup and then return to the hideout to help Wild burn it down, but at this rate Wild is going to burn it down himself and come out the help them before they can reach the others. Time readjusts his grip on Twilight's arm and pushes himself forward. Hyrule is panting, and Time realizes he is too. The back of his neck is burning with the rising sun, he's almost surprised with how much time has passed.

He pushes forward.

Finally, finally, they reach the others, and thankfully they all run up to help take the weight of Twilight's limp body. Time thinks Twilight fell asleep, he's not sure, he's too busy grabbing at the straps of his armor and letting them drop to the ground before he lifts the undershirt above his head.

He's hot. He's so hot, the sun is smoldering and the shade by the cliffs hardly do anything to help. The rest have also stripped their clothes and have moved closer to the shade, dragging Twilight along with them. He leaves his armor where it is, the thought of going back is forgotten when he sees Twilight isn't responding to the slight slaps to the face from Warrior. Time stumbles forward and drops down into the sand and sees that Twilight is just staring, nothing else, just looking at the sky or something further away with no reaction towards his comrades.

"What's wrong with him?" Legend asks.

"He looks drunk," Wind replies. Time is too worried to ask Wind how he knows what drunk looks like.

"He's not drunk," Warrior says and sits back onto his legs. His face is grim. "He's drugged."

"What kind of drug?" Time asks. He ignores the way his stomach seems to tie itself into a knot. Drugs… drugs are dangerous, and judging by the way Twilight is completely uninterested in the land of the awake, he's as high as a cloud.

Warrior shrugs. "It's Wild's Hyrule, it can be anything. I don't recognize it."

Time looks away towards a city in the distance, dancing like an illusion from the heat of the rising sun. That's their best bet for help, but it's so far away and the heat of the desert alone will kill them before they make it, nevermind any possible monsters.

Yet, a miracle happens right then. In the distance, Time sees sand being kicked up by a small creature swimming through the sand as if it were water. There are multiple of them, and behind each are taller figures with flaming red hair. The Gerudo warriors skid to a halt next to the group and dismount the strange seal creatures. Time stands up and walks forward to greet them.

"Look what we have here," one of the Gerudo women says. Her skin is as dark as chocolate and her eyes blaze gold. She looks weary of them, but also confident, wearing an easy going smirk.

"Our friend," Time explains, he moves so the can get a clear shot of Twilight, "he was taken from us by the Yiga Clan, we came here to rescue him."

Another Gerudo snorts. "You aren't dressed for the desert," she says, "you're lucky we were told you'd be here."

The third Gerudo drops a heavy looking bag onto the sand, bringing up a small cloud. Time remains where he is, confused. He looks towards the others and they're just as lost as he is, so he turns back to the warriors and clears his throat.

"Told... we'd be here?" He asks.

"Yes," the first one says. "By our little Hylian Vai. Ah, There she is now."

She looks past the group and Time follows her gaze towards where a figure dressed in blue silk is running down the canyon towards them. Time recognizes the scars on her body, her long hair, her blue eyes. The outfit she wears also sparks a vague memory in the back of Times head.

"Sav'otta, friend!" The Gerudo calls.

The girl… it has to be Wild… waves and calls back. "Sav'aaq."

His voice is surprisingly feminine, and Time would love to go and get more information, but Twilight is a matter of more importance. Wild seems to think so too judging by the way he stills when he sees the pup.

Time turns to the Gerudo, knowing now that Wild has somehow called them over and has decided to trust them completely. "He's mostly unharmed, we think he's drugged."

One of the Gerudo nods and hefts a bag over her shoulder before she strides over to Twilight. The others scoot slightly away to give her room to work, but not enough that she can do whatever she wanted without them watching. It seems Time isn't the only one a tad bit weary to let Twilight of their sight.

"There's heat proof clothes in the bag," the third Gerudo says and Time turns towards where the bag is discarded on the ground. "If you want to travel the desert, you'll need them. Don't worry about paying us back, it's the least we can do for our little bird. We also have way too much Voe clothes to handle, so really you're doing us a favor."

While the Gerudo tend to Twilight, Time and Wild both step forward to dig through the pile of clothes. "Got into Gerudo Town the same way I did, huh?" Time says, grinning slightly. Wild shoots him a glare, but Time can see the small blush forming on his cheeks.

They pass out the clothes to the others and quickly change. The heat of the sun instantly seems to go away, allowing their skin to feel the surprising cool breeze.

The Gerudo tending to Twilight identifies the drug as a pretty tame one, the only side effects Twilight has to look forward to is some natural nausea and shakiness when it starts to wear off. For now, all they can do is make sure he doesn't overheat.

"We can escort you to the Kara Kara Bazaar. Since you are Voe, we cannot allow you into our city."

"That's alright," Time says, "you've already helped us a lot. We do not wish to impose more than what we already are."

"It's not problem," one Gerudo says. She steps forward and slings her arm over Wild's small body. "For our little bird? Almost anything."

-o-o-o-o-

The cold air running through the in at the Kara Kara Bazaar is a blessing on so many levels. Even with the Voe armor, the heat of the sun still eventually managed to latch it's scalding fingers onto their skin. There's not a single member of the group that's not sunburned in some way, but Wild thankfully manages to make some potions to chase away the worst of it. They thank they three Gerudo women and they reassure them that it's no issue to help the friends of their little bird, and then they ride off before the other men at the Bazaar can try to mob them.

Twilight is laid down on one of the inn beds and Time sits besides him on a chair he has pulled up, he's sleeping somewhat peacefully. He woken up in the middle of their journey spilling the contents of his stomach everywhere as his body slowly cleansed out the drug. He's been given a small dosage of a health potion a Gerudo warrior had with her and then passed out not long after. He should wake up with a hell of a hangover, but he'll be clean of the drugs. Time can't be more thankful for that, it could have been worse.

Time sighs and brushes at the hair sticking to Twilight's forehead from the sweat. It could have been so much worse.

"I'm chopped some melon," Wild's voice says. Time pulls his hand away from Twilight to see Wild approaching, still dressed in the beautiful blue silk, in his hands is a tray of cut fruit. "Was wondering if you wanted some, it'll cool you down."

"Sure, and while I eat, you can explain some things."

Wild blushes slightly but hands Time a melon anyway. Time takes a bite into the surprisingly cold fruit as Wild pulls up his own chair.

"After I fought the Yiga, I used my slate to go back to Gerudo Town to ask for help. Then I came back to make sure you guys were out. Simple as that," Wild says. His hands are wringing around each other in his lap, and he's looking down, not making eye contact.

While Time was wondering about that, both he and Wild know that's not what he meant. He gives Wild a look and Wild sighs.

"It feels… natural," he... she says, her breath barely above a whisper. "Better... Right. Especially here."

Time smiles and places his hand on Wild's shoulder. "It's alright. You look comfortable in your own skin."

Wild gives a half relieved, half nervous laugh before she turns to where Twilight still lays. "I didn't know if you guys would… how you would react, so I've kept it hidden. But, back at the hideout, I knew that your opinion of me wouldn't matter at all if you all died in the sun. It feels good, though. Everyone has said they're okay with it besides…"

Time smiles and looks back towards his charge. "He'll always accept you, no matter what. We all will."

"I know, it's still… a bit…"

"Nerve wracking?"

"Yeah."

"He will always accept you, and if he doesn't, he has me to answer to."

#jin writes #fan fiction #linked universe #hero of the wild #hero of time #fan fic #hero of twilight #hero of warriors #legend of zelda #hero of legend #hero of the four sword #hero of the wind #hero of hyrule #hero of the sky #we all know twi accepts her #gender fluid wild

565 notes · View notes

kegareki · 4 years

Text

dameamaryllis replied to your post “every time i work a bit on my ‘verse based on chinese BL system...”

Oh, I really like what I've seen of this so far! Would you tell us more about your protagonist and his relationships with these characters? (And am I reading the hints right, that the "light" has some sentience and/or is influencing human thought?)

:D i am always up for talking about my stuff

answers under the cut!

to answer your second question first: yes to both!

in the setting of the story, the vast majority of humans follow the church of the ever-living light. there are some pockets of surviving, older religions, but the church of the ever-living light is pretty much omnipresent.

it’s been in existence for... less than a thousand years, i’d say? with it rising to prominence during a large-scale war. its main tenets haven’t changed much in the years since.

the ‘ever-living light’ is something of a god and something of a transcendence: it’s not exactly a person, but it’s personified. saints of the ever-living light are mortals that have been ‘chosen’ and ‘blessed’ by the ever-living light to carry out its will as listed by the church; they’re generally exceptional and used to increase the church’s influence and advance the church/ever-living light’s agendas.

the ever-living light ‘grants’ holy/light magic to its believers. saints and popes are the most powerful, magically. this magic is exhaustible, however: what the ever-living light gives, it can also take away.

(several saints have died throughout the years because their magic depleted fully at a crucial moment. their deaths, although tragic, were used to reenergise the population and reaffirm their course.)

inspiration about this comes from ‘western fantasy’ settings in system novels--it’s unrealistic to me that an entire species would fall under the umbrella of one religion (i mean... look at Real Humans, lmao). one of the specific ones is the light god arc in “quickly wear the face of the devil”. there’s another specific one, but i. unfortunately do not remember it. r.i.p

the truth of the ever-living light is that, rather than being innately divine like you’d expect a god to be, it lifted itself up to the position of a god and is using faith as fuel to keep itself ‘godly’ in the eyes of mortals. the holy/light magic ‘gifted’ to its followers are portions of its own power, loaned out for as long as the person in question will follow its will, and as a result there’s a sort of ‘link’ between the ever-living light and the mortal that allows for greater influence in the person’s thoughts.

it passes itself off as a kind, compassionate being, but it’s more true that it’s greedy and vicious. it’s enacting a centuries-long campaign to rid the world of demons because it harbors resentment for the species; it doesn’t directly yank back its power from its followers when it realises that they’re straying and instead waits for the most opportune moment.

it wants humanity in good shape basically just to be a robust population to throw at the demons. and, like, honestly? being followed because people love you feels a lot better than being followed because people fear you. love and faith can be turned into swords against your enemies, but if you use fear instead, those swords will be turned on you as soon as they can manage it.

the upper echelons of the church are more or less partners-in-crime with the ever-living light. they’re not a PR tactic/expendable tool like saints are; they’re PR and the hands that wield the tool.

... and, in the ‘original story’, sheng qinghe is absolutely oblivious to all of this!

two of his followers/group members--his childhood friend, sen sizhen, and the scholarly male friend that he makes later on, mo yunxing--are not. i think mo yunxing’s family tends to be church members, and sen sizhen has a unique perspective of “being close with the person cultivated to be a saint while not being valuable herself except as leverage,” so they both end up sort of intuitively grasping that there is danger in sheng qinghe’s position and that it’s imperative that he serve the church of the ever-living light well.

when sheng qinghe questions what they’re doing, they divert his attention so that he stops thinking about it. when he’s staring in silence at the bodies of the demons he’s just felled, they take his arm and lead him away. when sheng qinghe wonders if the violence they’re doing is justified, they’re quick to remind him of all of the atrocities that demons have done.

i had intended sen sizhen to act as sort of a love interest for sheng qinghe, since Girl Childhood Friend is popular for that, but she’s ended up in a sort of older sister role to him, wanting to protect him from things that he doesn’t yet understand--that, under her watch, hopefully he will never understand. she cares about him a lot, but there’s a slowly widening gap between them because she feels like she has to shield him from ‘the cruel reality of the world’. neither she nor mo yunxing think that he is capable of facing that reality.

OH i don’t know if it could be inferred or not, but: sheng qinghe, in his role of a saint, is being used to spearhead “a final war” against demons. that’s why he ends up fighting against the demon king--it’s the “final step” in defeating the demons.

in the ‘original story’, he succeeds. with their backing gone, the rest of the demons soon follow their king to the grave. sheng qinghe is touted as the hero of humanity.

in the fic i’m writing, the main character transmigrates to stop this.

so, for the relationships question:

the main character transmigrates into zhu yixian, a fox spirit who is more or less one of the demon king’s most prominent lackeys. in the original setting, xi youtian had rescued zhu yixian from fur traders when he was a kit and raised him up in the absence of his parents, and in return zhu yixian devoted his life to serving him.

that’s more or less true here, too, but. mc zhu yixian is an entirely different person, so of course things change.

see, the thing about the mc is: they love sheng qinghe, and they think of him as their idiot son, so of course they want to get personally involved in his upbringing so that they can stop him from... (gestures to sheng qinghe forcing down his conscience, again and again, and culminating in literal genocide) that

so here, we have a demon who has more or less been adopted into the demon king’s family ............ more or less adopting in turn a saint of the ever-living light

zhu yixian is, of course, not being upfront with their identity--revealing that they’re a demon would NOT end well at this stage--but they’re kind to sheng qinghe, and they help him out in some situations, and scold him and tell him to think, and sheng qinghe really does end up viewing them as something like an older brother/uncle who’s looking out for him

unlike sen sizhen and mo yunxing, who try to protect sheng qinghe by shielding him from the things that they think/know will hurt him, zhu yixian instead wants to make sheng qinghe think. they don’t want to give sheng qinghe the option of just. closing his eyes and ears to the world. they want him to be better than he would be otherwise

... but, of course, you can’t make anyone do anything. you can only give them the tools with which to make their choice and hope that they make the choice that’s right for them

uhhh, other relationship stuff that i don’t know how to sort:

it’s not uncommon for demons to mix in with humans--they do share the same planet, after all, and even the same continent--so it’s not really strange for zhu yixian to traipse around in human territory. it is a little strange for zhu yixian to cultivate a relationship with a human

xi youtian doesn’t probe about it, though. he doesn’t interfere in his followers’/friends’ personal lives much.

he thinks it’s funny that zhu yixian talks about sheng qinghe like they’re his long-suffering parent, though

xi youtian has three other prominent lackeys; they’re pretty much close as family. one of them is the Mom Friend, who’s warm and likes taking care of people; there’s the Enabler Friend, who is always so down with whatever idea someone has; and there’s the Snark Friend, who has a bad mouth but a good temper. although xi youtian is their king, they’re privileged enough to speak to him as equals

zhu yixian is younger than all of them. although they’re a young adult by the time they meet sheng qinghe, they’re still viewed as the baby of the family

zhu yixian gets indulged A Lot. they can get away with all sorts of things and even be looked at affectionately while they’re being a brat or acting spoiled. on one hand, they’re like “guys! you need to discipline children more!” and on the other hand, they’re like “this is great, actually”

zhu yixian’s original life may not have been the greatest, so like. second childhood with people who love them and will also give them all the hugs they want? talk about relationship security

fox spirits can transform into human form when they reach adolescence. i have a scene written about zhu yixian’s first transformation; they come careening out of the room in one of xi youtian’s childhood robes and happily babbles at xi youtian about how they have hands! and can finally see over the table when sitting!!! and xi youtian laughs a little like “those are what you’re most excited about?” and zhu yixian replies very seriously “i have things to say, and most people don’t listen to tiny foxes who have to stand to see over the table.”

later, Snark Friend is like “huh. i was expecting you to be taller.” and zhu yixian is like “I’M STILL GROWING”

the atmosphere at home is really warm, haha. they all care about each other a lot, and you can feel it

(which is another reason on the ever-increasing list for why things CANNOT go as they did in canon. it’s not just that sheng qinghe’s canon behaviour was wildly out of character as they understood him to be--it’s that they want to preserve the lives of these people.)

zhu yixian thinks sheng qinghe’s friends Are Not That Smart. sheng qinghe doesn’t have to worry about school entrance exams or anything like that, but they’re still a little concerned that stupidity is contagious

sheng qinghe is easily influenced, after all, if canon is anything to go by

sheng qinghe doesn’t really understand what zhu yixian is talking about until his jock friend realises zhu yixian’s identity as not only a demon but one of the hands of the demon king and yells it in the middle of a restaurant and all of sheng qinghe’s friends follow suit in immediately becoming hostile and assuming that he’s been tricking them and zhu yixian, aggrieved, is like “WHAT are you talking about? when did i lie? when did i try to hurt sheng qinghe???” and sheng qinghe is like ... (thinks back over years of interactions) (zhu yixian literally gave their real name) (zhu yixian has helped sheng qinghe and co on more than one occasion, at no benefit to themselves) (My Friends. Might Be Stupid After All.jpg)

that is... all for now, i think

thank you so much for being interested in my stuff <3 <3 <3

#dameamaryllis #keg wrecks #keg writes #this is. a very long reply my gd #i hope that it's. uh. coherent. i don't know how long ive been typing #bl verse

4 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 5 years

Text

BOO-lieve in Me [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 15k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Spirit Marriage!AU

➜ Summary: A Spirit Marriage - in which two deceased people are wedded together. In your life, you wouldn’t have ever imagined yourself married. Much less to mommy’s boy, Min Yoongi.

➜ Warnings: ghosts, discussion of death, swearing.

➜ Notes: istg the titles for my fics are getting shittier and shittier. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this small series! and happy birthday to the one and only Min Yoongi!!

You’d rather die than be here.

“During the late eighteenth century, there were many trade issues with tea as European control over trade with China was very limited. On page two-hundred sixty of your textbook, it says that the merchants were under the direction of local officials who made all decisions of the selling process, leaving little for negotiation….” The teacher drones and on and on. Sitting here at the very back of the class with your legs comfortably popped up on the desk, you feel like slamming your head against the wall. But even if you did that — no one would notice. Luckily enough, you’re not the only one bored out of your mind. There are students passing each other notes, giggling and spewing spitballs at one another. It’s terribly childish and juvenile, so with a roll of your eyes, you keep your vision trained forward to the person you’re sitting behind, burning holes into the back of Jungkook’s head. Jungkook’s a little shit. He’s fairly popular amongst his peers for his good looks and personality, and he knows it too. He likes to talk back. He’s a brat. He’s competitive and rambunctious too. But you beneath it all, he’s a good kid — getting good grades, friendly to those he meets, athletic and talented in drawing. But lately, he’s been quieter. Reclusive even. Jungkook has become timid and he’s been distant to his friends. It’s obvious that he’s having a hard time. “Do you want to go to the movies after school? They’re playing a new movie!” “The one with Won Bin?” “Yeah! It starts at five. It got good reviews too and apparently he has a shower scene.” The two girls are giggling together, snickering underneath their breaths. And when a spitball flies past from a guy sitting across from you, your brain nearly blows a gasket. You glare into the back of their heads, mouth drawing open to say something, but you don’t need to. The teacher at the front of the room turns on his toes. “Who’s talking?!” Silence ripples throughout the room. The girls turn right back around and the boys hide their straws in the laps, all looking down at their open textbooks simultaneously. Only those who have their head rested on their desks, drooling on the wooden surface as they sleep, are caught for not paying attention. Fortunately for all of them before the teacher can yell again, the bell rings. It chimes throughout the entire building and the students get up, dismissed from the day much to the teacher’s dismay. “Make sure to finish all of your assigned homework!” he screams and gives up, packing his own things to leave. Unlike the others, you’re in no rush, instead turning to look out the window. There are students already running out the school gate, laughing with their friends, racing home, or strolling to their after-school activities. Jungkook is slow, languidly packing up his belongings, picking up his bag, putting on his jacket. As you redirect your gaze towards him, he ignores you. The boy is a ghost, caught in a trance and only brought back to the ground when someone pops their head through the door and shouts his name. “Jungkook! Are you coming with us? We’re heading down to the—” “No, I’m fine.” He throws his bags over his shoulder and walks out the door while Jaehyun is left helpless, unable to persuade him. “I have some things to do at home. Maybe another time.” What an idiot. You finally get up from your own seat, hands dug in your pockets, following him out. Jungkook walks alone, each of his steps dragged down by a weight on his shoulders that you cannot see. His head is downcasted, arms by his side and as you shadow his strides at a distance, he doesn’t notice the girl who comes from the opposite direction. Her shoulder collides with his as she speed walks and at the exact same time as she spews out an apology, he mumbles his own. “Oh.” The female stops and turns herself back, nearly whipping him in the face with her high ponytail. “You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?” “Umm...do I know you?” “At the beginning of the semester, I gave you a pack of ramen.” “You….did?” “Yeah. I was promoting the gardening club. The ramen had an advertisement stapled to it,” she reminds him in exasperation and you approach close enough to read the nametag on her uniform — Yeeun. She’s definitely an interesting character, you muse. Very loud and bubbly, having no sense of boundaries as she invades in his personal space. This is the most you’ve seen Jungkook talk recently and it’s quite funny to watch him so taken back. “You even signed up to receive information. I remember because you gave me a FAKE email!” “Oh…” Jungkook ducks his head, finding her overwhelming. “Sorry. I must’ve made a mistake…” “Yeah, sure. Listen, I’ll forgive you if you join the gardening club. We actually need more help—” “I’m good.” “If you weren’t interested in it in the first place, then you shouldn't have taken the ramen and given me a fake email! I could’ve given that to someone else instead. I know gardening seems lame but it’s actually a lot of fun and it doesn’t take that long to learn—…..are you walking away from me?!” “I have some place to be.” Jungkook is backing away with his palms up. “Sorry, not interested.” Yeeun’s mouth draws open, baffled. You laugh, snickering openly and when you brush past her, you catch her muttering about his rudeness and how she feels like a salesman going door to door. You continue following Jungkook, but not without musing that the girl seemed cute. Jungkook could’ve totally made a move or at least got a new friend, but he blew it like a total dork that he is. Though the image of him kneeling in dirt as he tends to tomatoes is all too humorous. Your feet trail after him at a distance, steps matching his. Your eyes watch his backside, too curious for your own good. He goes down three blocks, deeper into the suburban area, turning a left then a right. But as you tail him, you’re suddenly disrupted by an urgent bark. Head drooping to the ground, you find a brown poodle dog yapping at you, having leaped out from the alleyway. “Go away.” You walk over the stray, but it follows, throwing itself in front of you once more. “I said go away!” At your shout, the dog remains undeterred. His tail is still wagging, tongue out as he pants. The more you pay attention to him, the more he reacts. You look up quickly, finding that you’ve lost sight of Jungkook. Damn. With no other choice and a sigh of frustration, you pick up the damn dog into your arms. “What do you want from me? Where’s your owner, huh?” You look at the dog’s small blue collar, catching the name tag. “You’re Holly?” The poodle barks and a tiny smile sneaks on your lips before you repress it and set him down. “Go away. Leave me alone,” you tell the stray. “I’m not in any condition to take care of you, alright? And I don’t want to!” He follows you, stubby legs teetering from side to side to match up with your wide strides. A discontented inhale is stolen through the seams of your lips and you swivel around on your toes. “Stay!” Holly yelps at your command, but ultimately obeys. He stays in one spot, watching you march off. Your speed picks up and you follow Jungkook’s direction. That is until the road splits off into four and you don’t know where he’s gone. There are people coming from all directions, kids walking home from school, mothers pushing their strollers, elders holding their groceries from the store nearby. You’re lost. After a moment of watching, you sigh and give up. The sun begins to fall as the evening hour arrives. It becomes dark out within minutes, black rippling through the city slowly and engulfing the sky into nightfall. You wait at a bus station, sitting underneath the glass shelter on a bench, examining the way the wheels roll on the road. You watch the way the buses stop, how steam puffs out of their engine, how the creaking doors open and people get on and off, students and workers alike. Sitting in a single spot, you listen to the sounds of the city, the white noise, the distant cars in the back, the bustle of synchronized steps and conversations. You observe the people out and about, catching taxis and cabs or entering the cozy restaurant from across the street, those that shuffle away from the coldness, arguing with loved ones on the phone. You watch how alive they are. But finally, after hours of waiting, the bus you were expecting stops in front of you. You stand up and after three or so people hop off, you find the older lady bumbling onto the road again. She doesn’t look at you. The aged woman has wrinkles around her eyes, her steps slow, fatigue permanently etched in her muscles. She exhales every so often and you follow after her as she drags her feet from the exhausted day. Your eyes trace her slumped shoulders and thin legs, watching her backside and chasing her shadow. You stroll behind her like some sort of child lost on her way or much like Holly, a stray dog desperate for attention. The woman turns down the dark street, opening the gate to her house and you catch up behind her as her keys rattle and she opens the door. You slip inside behind her before it shuts. The entire house is consumed in darkness, but the television is on, screen casting a blinding glow around the room, walls bathed in the static. The woman turns on the lights and the boy laying on the couch, watching mindlessly, doesn’t even blink. “Have you eaten yet?” He ignores her. She moves to the kitchen, sighing again and you follow. “Mom,” you call out, but she ignores you. “Mom…..” Your mom scoops up a bowl of rice from the cooker. But she doesn’t eat it even if her stomach is growling. Instead, she sets it on the table by the front door, right beside your picture frame. “You must’ve been hungry, huh?” A sad smile graces her lips as she speaks to you. “I’m sorry for working all day. I hope you weren’t lonely. Things haven’t been too bad around here—” The boy on the couch gets up, sitting straight. His hair is a mess, eyes weary, and he turns his head. “Can you not talk to her like that? It’s creepy. And stop giving her food. I have to throw it away after. It’s annoying.” “Jungkook….” He gets onto his feet, footsteps padding down the hall before the door slams shut. The walls rattle on impact, hinges squeaking and she winces. You scoff. “What a brat.” But your mom is less angry. She merely sighs, returning to the kitchen to get her food, only to end up sitting alone at the dinner table without knowing that you’re right beside her. And she barely eats, putting less than a spoonful in her mouth before he cries into her bowl. The woman sobs quietly to not disturb her son. It’s heart wrenching and you can’t bear it for a full minute. You peel yourself off the chair, going down the hall into Jungkook’s room. Passing through the door, you find him laying in bed, facing the wall. “You’re a brat, you know that?! Mom’s crying because of you! You’re such an ass!” “You think just cause I’m not here anymore means you get to disrespect mom?! Yeah right. Not on my watch, punk!” Jungkook doesn’t hear you of course, but it still feels good to get it off your chest….until something catches in your ear. It’s the quietest of whimpers, muffled and only when you see Jungkook’s shoulders begin to tremble do you realize he’s crying too. He digs his face into his pillow, pulling his covers up over his head and you fall to the floor, leaning back at the foot of his bed. It really sucks to be dead. // Yoongi would agree with your sentiment — if he knew you. It sucked to be a wandering ghost, but even then it’s an understatement. He doesn’t get to haunt people and scare them or go around like Casper the Ghost. There was nothing exciting about being invisible to the people alive or having limited objects he could touch and interact with. But he doesn’t dwell on it too much. What’s more pressing on his mind is that he knows he’s going to hell. “Can you stop hovering over me?!” His mother shrieks and dusts off her shoulder furiously like there’s a pet cockroach perched on it. “No.” Yoongi continues to hover beside her. “You can’t make me.” “Go away!” She grieves, throwing down the tarot cards from her hands onto the clothed table. She appears absolutely psychotic as she screams and scolds to an empty space. But she knows he’s there. “Stop bothering me! Don’t you have something better to do?” “Actually, I don’t,” he bites back, refusing to go elsewhere. The woman can’t exactly hear him, but feel his presence and read his aura. Even so, she is annoyed. She gets up, moving past the beaded curtains and moving through the narrow halls. Her steps are heavy, body tired from constantly feeling him over her shoulder. It’s the pressure of an anchor. “I have a client coming over soon. For the love of all things good, please stop haunting me, Yoongi. This is my last request to you.” She is begging and ranting to the empty air. “Didn’t you always want to move out? Why are you sticking next to me like gum? You’re not four-years old anymore. Let me work in peace!” Yoongi is childish. Stubborn. He refuses, especially now that he hears a client is coming. It only provokes him, making his eyes narrow and he comes even closer. She mutters curses, a hand pressing on her forehead and decides it’s better to just ignore him. The woman grabs a binder off the shelf and marches into the main living space, right as the doorbell rings. She opens it. Yoongi’s mom has erratic hair and although she has a sophisticated demeanor, she is very much witch-like. It makes the woman on the other side startled despite having met her before. Still, that doesn’t stop her from giving the woman a warm hug. “Welcome! Welcome, come in, come in!” “O-oh, thank you.” “Don’t be shy!” she laughs. “What kind of tea would you like? Do you want any refreshments?” “I-I’m fine, thank you.” Yoongi leans back against the wall with his arms crossed. He watches the arrangement and how both get settled down across the table from each other. The black binder is opened and his crazy mother flips through the pages. The woman across from her is the first to pipe up. “I want to apologize about how I acted last time.” “Nonsense. I completely understand why someone might hesitate to do this.” She looks up at her with a sincere gaze and reaches over to put her hand over her’s. “You’re still in grief.” The woman nods. “I thought it over like you said and I really…..just want her to have peace. I’m scared that she’s lonely.” “I’m glad that you called me then. It’s my mission to make sure that everyone is matched up with someone suitable and that will give them happiness in the other word.” Yoongi scoffs. It’s a bunch of bogus and bullshit. He despises her and her scamming career — a matchmaker for ghosts? What a joke. She’s hurting these people suffering in grief and it’s unforgivable. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me yet.” She smiles and looks through her binder before slipping a paper out. Yoongi strolls over, dipping down to look over his mother’s shoulder. Her muscles seem to stiffen as if she can feel him right there, but he remains focused on the profile he sees. Middle class family. Tragedy struck halfway through university years. Bus crash. It’s unfortunate, especially considering how young you were. Yoongi’s eyes skim over to the picture of just you, a headshot from high school, and he finds you fairly pretty when you have a smile on. It’s a shame you died so early on in your life. “So I’ve taken a long look over your daughter’s profile...and I assessed other profiles in all my binders and I believe I’ve found a match.” “Really?” The exuberant woman throws the entire binder backwards onto the last page. She fiddles with the sheet protector and takes out the page, sliding it over the wooden table like a secret contract or Satan persuading a clueless human to sign their soul away. “My own son!” “Pardon?” “WHAT?!” Yoongi goes pale. His jaw is slack, eyes bulging out from his sockets, mortified. His mother laughs, feeling his aura turn into a furious red. “I’ve met many souls and I haven’t found a better match than now. They were around the same age when they passed away and you said your daughter was feisty, right?” She stares at Yoongi’s picture — at how soft his features are and kind his smile is. He looks like a cute boy and a good son-in-law. “Yes.” “Well, I know my son very well and he’s….lively too. They would be a couple who would challenge each other, but ultimately rise above. At least that’s what my intuition tells me.” “No, no, no!” Yoongi is in hysterics and he’s shouting to no one. “Is this your ploy to try to get rid of me?! You’re marrying me off?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You’re fucking sick!” “He seems very hardworking,” your mom says after reading over his profile, noticing how many jobs he’s had, how he’s traveled around the world despite being at such a young age. “Yes. He’s very particular and meticulous too. A very well-mannered boy…” when he wants to be, but she doesn’t add that on. “Do you really think they’d go well together?” “Well, I only really know once they meet.” “Once they meet?” “I can summon her into the room. Luckily, my son is already here.” She smiles, unbeknownst at how that very same son is ready to jump out the window and hope he can die a second time. “Would you like me to bring your daughter here?” “S-sure.” Yoongi is losing his mind. He can’t pay attention, slumped to the wall, sliding down to collapse on the floor. His hands are in his hair, shaking his head and in denial. In the meanwhile, his mother lights six candles and places out six cards, beginning a ritual. She murmurs bullshit underneath her breath and burns a picture of you to the candle beside her. It goes up into flames, photo turning to ash. Then, there’s a gust of wind. Your mom is startled when the candles are blown out and Yoongi’s mother shuts her eyes tight, fingers rubbing against her temple. In the dimension they cannot see, there’s a mist and then a shrill scream. You’re pulled away from Jungkook’s classroom, surroundings warped and soul stolen away from your control. You fall from the ceiling, landing on the carpet in a splat. “What the fuck?!” You get up and Yoongi watches you in distaste as if observing spiders hatching from their eggs. You look around before your eyes meet. He’s a random ass dude, rounded cheeks, brown eyes, reminding you of a cat with plush cheeks, but a stern stare. There’s also a woman in red robes, necklaces draped on her head on top of her untamed curly hair. Across from her and the tall candles is…..“Mom?!” “She is here.” “She is?” Your mom looks around into every corner. “Y/N?” The woman hums. “She’s here. Standing right there.” She points right at you and you’re startled, barely managing to get to your feet. “What the fuck. What’s going on?” you ask to no one in particular before turning towards Yoongi, noticing that he’s in the same state as you are. “Who are you?” “Yoongi.” His deep voice rumbles against the walls and he wears an unimpressed expression as he scans you from head to toe. “Can she see me?” You don’t look away from him, simply pointing to the woman. “No. But she can feel you.” “What?” You’re still flabbergasted, mind reeling and Yoongi feels just as numb. “What in the fucking hell….How?” “She’s psychic.” You’re befuddled, confused out of your mind. But the woman continues to speak. “I can feel her. She is….sad.” “Sad?” Your mom’s eyes are rounded, brows knitting together, looking hurt and concerned. Yoongi scoffs as his mother nods. “Deep sadness. You’re not taking care of yourself, are you? Neither is your younger son. She’s been following the both of you for some time now, watching over you.” You’re surprised, taken back by her accuracy. Your mother also comes to cover her mouth with her hand, broken sobs tearing through her throat. “C-can I talk to her?” Once she’s gotten the signal to go ahead, she turns to the empty space, missing you, but still in the general vicinity of where you are. “Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you’re still worrying about me and Jungkook. But you don’t have to be worried about us anymore. We’ll be fine. Go on in peace, okay?” A lump forms in your throat, keeping your words from spilling out. “She won’t be alone anymore. They’ll be a good match.” “What...is she talking about?” You look at Yoongi again, whispering, but the stranger doesn’t respond. He appears defeated, knees propped up and arms openly rested on them. “Y/N, you and my son are going to be wedded together,” the woman explains openly, answering your questions, “so neither of you have to be alone in the other world. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” “Wait….what?!” Your reaction is similar to Yoongi, mouth dropping to the ground, eyes doubling. But you don’t fully understand the extent of what’s occurring — not as well as Yoongi does. He’s the one who’s truly devastated at this news. “I’m marrying you?!” “Nice meeting you too,” he chuckles lifelessly. You don’t appreciate his joke whatsoever. “What in the ever living fuck?!” “Hmm….I see it.” Yoongi’s mother bobs her head up and down, stuck in a trance as she stares at her ceiling. “They’re upset and angry.” Your mom is immediately worried. “A-angry?” “Damn fucking straight I’m angry!” You’re screaming and no one hears except Yoongi who covers his ears and scowls at your shrieking volume. “Since when am I getting married?!” // It’s unbelievable. Even when you were alive, you questioned if you ever wanted to be married to someone. The thought of forever being tied down to another human being for the entirety of your life somehow brought a bitter taste in your mouth. You found everything and everyone annoying with enough time — surely, marriage didn’t suit you. But being married to a total stranger after you’re dead for eternity?! This was some kind of living hell….and you couldn’t even escape via death by running into traffic. “We have to find some way to stop this.” “How?” Yoongi questions with a raised brow before scoffing. “We’re dead. It’s not like we can say anything.” “You said she could sense us, right?” You chase after him in exasperation. “Can’t she tell that we’re against this?” “She’s already made up her mind.” His gaze is firm, eyes cold and pinpointed on yours. “She won’t change it.” “How do you know?” “She’s my mom.” Yoongi turns on his heel one last time, challenging you to keep trying to test his patience, just so you’ll see what will happen. “The living has always been selfish, don’t you realize that? People will always be selfish. It doesn't matter that we’re dead. It doesn’t matter what we think. They don’t want us to rest in peace — they want their own comfort.” You scoff, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “So you’re just going to let this happen?” “There’s nothing else we can do,” Yoongi repeats himself. “And we’re dead, right? We’ll pass onto the other side eventually. Marriage is a human construct. It doesn’t matter anyways.” “Yes, it does,” you persist. “It matters to me. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t even know who you are!” “I don’t want to marry you either.” With that said, he makes his move, strolling off. “W-where the hell are you going?!” “Away. Fuck off.” You scoff, not bothering to chase after him anymore. “What an asshole.” “I heard that!” “Good!” You shriek after him childishly, repeating yourself and making it loud and clear. “You’re an asshole, you know that?!” His voice becomes fainter, but you still hear his spiteful insults. “You’re an annoying bitch.” “What the fuck did you just say? Get back here! You coward! Yoongi!” You’re left breathless and defeated, fists crumpled together and face twisted in anger. A scream of his name comes out of you one more time before you’re left in silence with no choice but to collect yourself and pick up the remains of your diminishing sanity. You don’t know who he is or who he thinks he is — but you’ll never marry a bastard like him. Before you can stomp off, the psychic lady who brought you into this mess enters through the doorway. She pushes the beaded curtains away and stops several meters away from where you’re standing, staring at the space you occupy as if she can feel your presence. It’s astounding how similar she looks to her son, rounded cheeks and cat-like eyes, only older and with untamed hair. “Hello. I’m Min Chaerin. It’s nice to meet you.” There’s a pause. “I know you’re upset.” “That’s an understatement,” you spit out, even if she can’t hear you. “I promise you I’m not scamming your mother. I don’t know what Yoongi might’ve told you, but this is my job. I’m a matchmaker for the dead and I help the living with their grief. He never respected my profession when he was alive and I’m sure he still doesn’t respect it while he’s dead. He’s always hanging around on my shoulder to tell me that...But rest assured, I don’t have harmful intentions….” She walks off slightly as if trying to get closer, but she misses you by a few inches, staring off towards the painting of sunflowers. “I know you might not want this, but I believe it can help you too. You’re scared of passing, aren’t you? I can sense it.” You have no idea what this lady is going on about. “You’re wrong.” And within seconds, you vanish into thin air. Your aura disappears and Yoongi’s mother sighs, finally left alone in her own peace. // It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to find out what happens. On his way home from school, he looks through the mailbox and when he finds it empty, he goes through his mom’s bag to see if she picked up anything important. Instead, he finds a manila envelope and upon turning it the wrong way, the thin sheets of paperwork slide out onto the table, along with your profile and Yoongi’s. It’s enough for him to go berserk. “What is this?” “What are you talking about?” “This.” The high-schooler whips the papers around in his hands, his boyish features scrunched into wrath and giving him premature wrinkles. “You’re marrying Y/N off to some dead guy?!” “Jungkook…” your mom approaches with an outstretched, gentle hand. “....sit down.” “Don’t touch me!” He shoves her back, causing the older woman to stumble, gasping. “This...this is disgusting!” He screams like it physically pains him, like he’s appalled by his own mother; like he is grossed out by himself and how he’s laid hands on his mom, how he’s losing control of his emotions completely. He feels disgusted by everyone and his own hands. “Why don’t you just let her rest in peace?! Why do you have to do this?! Why is this necessary?!” “Jungkook.” Her eyes plead with his. “I don’t want your sister to be alone—” “Do you think she would want this?!” he cries out, tears streaming down his face without him even realizing. Seldom has he been so openly upset. “Do you really think Y/N would want to get married?!” “I can’t bear the thought that she’s alone!” she finally shouts back at him, breaking down and slumping on the floor as if begging for repentance. “I can’t sleep at night. I can’t eat. I keep thinking about it...how I...I should’ve been the one to die instead.” The fatigued woman beats her chest as she sobs. The last thing she ever wanted in this world was to bury her own child. “She never got the chance to love, to live, to be happy…..I am her mom and I couldn't even protect her. I...I don’t want her to be lonely!” “She’s dead. So let her die.” Jungkook’s fists shake and he throws the papers to the ground, coating the cold floorboards in white. “You talk to her picture when you get home, you put food out for her like she’s still alive. I was the one who had to clean out her stuff! I was the one who had to do all the funeral arrangements. And you think doing something like this will make you feel better?!” The woman calls out to him, repeating her son’s name on his clips, crying for the old child she has left. But Jungkook is cold and his gaze is full of disdain. “Why don’t you just let her die already?!” He stomps hard enough to bruise his own feet. The door slams, hinges trembling. The two of them cry in different rooms, tears that dissolve the bindings that held this home together. This time, you stay with your mom on the floor. Knees gathered and leaning against the wall, you watch as she weeps into her hands. From the corner of the room, someone passes through the furniture, another ghost that wanders in. It’s not Yoongi or a stranger, but Holly. He doesn’t bark or yelp for your attention, merely approaching, sensing your sorrows. He curls up in your lap and you accept his affections, holding him close. You cry with your mom and she never knows that you’re right beside her. // “Marry me.” “No.” “Please, Yoongi?” You never thought you’d resort to begging and it’s beginning to take a hit to your pride. “I promise I’ll make you the happiest man ever.” If looks could kill, you’d be lowered into your grave for a second time. His glare is cold, eyes cat-like and made of ice. But it doesn’t deter you for a second. “Over my dead body.” “You said it didn't matter! We’re dead, marriage is a human construct, sound familiar?” “Doesn’t mean I’d agree.” Yoongi isn’t even a bit curious as to why you’ve changed your mind so quickly. He truly doesn’t give a shit about you. “Your mom’s going to delay the marriage if she knows we’re still upset over it. I don’t want it to be delayed. If you accept now, we can get it done and over with. Then we can be out of each other’s way.” “I don’t think you understand something, kid.” Yoongi sits up from the bed, craning his neck to lock his eyes with yours. “Marriage is a human construct, yes. But a spirit marriage is different. We’ll be bounded together. Tied.” “So?” “I don’t want to be connected to you in any way.” “Oh, fuck you too then.” Your fist balls up. He has the most punchable face in existence. “Listen here, Min. I don’t know who you think you fucking are, but let me make this clear to you. I don’t want to marry you, alright? Not in any way. Shape. Or form. I’m doing this for my mom, alright? The quicker our marriage happens, the quicker she can move on with her life.” You want peace for your mom and for her to have an eased mind, even if it means you have to go through with this stupid thing. This….this marriage means nothing in the grand scheme of things. When it comes to your family — Jungkook and your mom — you’ll do anything that you have to. But to your dismay, Yoongi scoffs and lays back down. “Yeah, no thanks. Go ask some other ghost to help you out.” “Fuck you!” you shout at an ear-splitting volume and he grimaces, covering his ears. “I didn’t want to marry you anyway!” With the last word in, you trample out. Rather than vanishing, you make sure to physically trample out as loud as you can so he can hear. Half of you expects Yoongi to run out of his room and accept your proposal and you would whip around with a curt ‘damn straight’. But of course not. Instead, you end up marching into the main living area, right as there’s some meeting going on. There’s a boy sitting at the round table next to a girl, in the middle of a union being discussed. The two of them look up at you and even Yoongi’s mother becomes startled at your presence, stopping mid-sentence to look around the space you’re in. The only person who is clueless is the affluent woman with pearls around her wrinkled neck. “A-are you alright?” The old woman’s vision strays to where the shamaness is staring. “Is...is there something there?” “N-no. It’s alright. It’s nothing.” “Sorry for interrupting,” you mumble and duck your head. The two ghosts don’t respond and you go out quieter, exiting the house in embarrassment. Before you can take a sigh of relief though, one glance to your left and you're nearly scared to death. “Holy fuck! You scared me!” There’s a young female ghost staring into the window. She’s startled when she sees you, inhaling a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry!” And before you can ask any questions, she disappears, body dissipating in front of your very eyes. “What in the ever living hell.” You’ve never met so many ghosts before. This house was definitely haunted…. With a sigh, you’re on your way, walking across the lawn before you realize what you’re even doing and you spin around. “Is he really not coming out?!” Goddammit. With zero shame, you march back in, interrupting the meeting for a second time. The two ghosts watch with wide eyes, and even Yoongi’s mom hitches her breath for a moment, stopping mid-sentence yet again. But there’s no time for any more apologies. You pass through the walls until you’re in Yoongi’s bedroom again. He’s still in the same palace where you left him two minutes ago — laying in the single bed on top of the train-printed blue bed sheets, staring up at his ceiling. You never got a good look the first time around. His childhood bedroom is quite cute and cozy. There are knick-knacks on top of the wardrobe and on the shelves, toy cars and superhero figurines with pictures of his younger self that are cuter than you’d like to admit. The music posters on his walls and the stack discs are traces of his teenage years. But his room is fairly neat and organized, empty even, as if he had cleaned up before moving out and didn’t have plans of coming back. “Fuck off, will you?” Yoongi drags a hand over his face, ignoring the way you’re standing with your hands on your hips, glaring down at him like you’re a disapproving mother. “No, you.” “Real mature,” he chides, less angry and with a speck of amusement in his low voice. “Why are you fighting against me? I thought you already accepted this?” “I thought you didn’t want to marry me,” he throws right back at you, using his words like a boomerang. “I changed my mind.” “Then I changed my mind too.” There’s a ghost of a smirk on his mouth and you release a frustrated exhale, holding back on throttling Min Yoongi to the ground like your instincts are telling you to do. “Just agree, goddammit! You’re lazing around anyway!” Your arms shoot up, motioning to how he’s lounging on his bed with his arms folded underneath his head like he’s sunbathing on some beach. “We have no choice either way. Like you said, your mom’s going to go through with it — so better now than later!” “Hmmm….” Yoongi pretends to consider it. You want to strangle him so bad and it’s not like there’s a ghost police to arrest you either. The only thing is...he can’t die a second time and you really can’t afford pissing someone off bad enough that they’ll enact revenge on you. “Let me think about it…...okay…..” “Okay?!” Your eyes widen in excitement, lips beginning to draw upwards. “Okay, I’m thinking about it,” he corrects with a shit-eating grin. Your own mouth falls into a straight line and he turns his head to stare at you. “No.” “Fuck you, mommy’s boy!” “What did you just call me?” Instead of being offended, Yoongi is even more amused. Your insults keep having a reversed effect on him and it’s driving you crazy. “A mommy’s boy!” you scream at him indignantly. “You still live with your mom! And she told me you’re always perched on her shoulder like some kind of bird! You obviously got mommy attachment issues!” He scoffs, finding it utterly ridiculous to the point that it’s humorous. “Are you done?” “Yes!” you exclaim and his grin widens, having not expected an actual answer. You’re absolutely humiliated from having your proposal rejected. You’ve been slapped across the face by his apathy too. There’s nothing you can do, but stomp out for the hundredth time. Yoongi yells something that you better not come back to bother him, though the pair of you are perfectly aware you’ll come back sooner or later. But luckily for you, you’re not interrupting the meeting for the third time. The wealthy lady as well as Yoongi’s mom are outside, ending their long conversation together. The female ghost seems to have gone too. There’s only the male left, standing at the window and staring out at the front lawn. Your steps slow, tired from being angry. The tall male turns slightly from his spot. “Umm….hi.” “Hi.” It’s awkward. You didn’t expect to be stopped by the ghost and you’re especially taken back by how handsome he is, even with the sickly colour of his skin that every dead being seems to have. There’s something mischievous about the way he looks and carries himself as if his youth hasn’t quite passed on yet despite his body being gone. “Are you getting married too?” It’s complicated — but with a clenched jaw, you answer in determination, “Yes.” “Cool.” His smile is sweet. “I’m Taehyung. You are?” “A ghost.” Taehyung bursts out laughing, mouth moving in a slightly boxy shape as his eyes crinkle. “Same.” You haven’t talked to a lot of others since you’re passing. Aside from Yoongi, this has been the only interaction you’ve had. You act like you don’t care and most of the time you don’t, but you didn’t realize how much you missed interacting with someone else, having them see you as you see them. “My mom’s marrying me off,” Taehyung tells you, looking out the window towards the lady in the driveway. A wistful sigh leaves the seams of his parted lips. “She says it’s for me, but I think it’s really more for her….so she can get a sense of peace.” You feel him on a spiritual level and you’re a few centimeters away from giving him a pat on the back. Dead laughter streams out his chest, never reaching his eyes. He murmurs his thoughts like he’s speaking to himself, “She’s controlling even after death. Can’t escape an arranged marriage, huh? Till death do us part, my ass.” You snort. “Tell me about it.” Before anymore can be said, something catches the corner of your eyes again; but you’re more prepared and not so startled. Your head turns and you find the ghost once more. This time she’s standing in some bushes on the side of the lawn and you wonder if she’s some sort of stalker. Your forehead nearly passes through the glass of the window and a muscle in your cheek twitches as your eyes narrow. Her vision is pinpointed on the male beside you, but once she finds you looking right at her, her sad expression becomes surprised and she vanishes again. “Huh.” “What is it?” “There.” You point off and Taehyung shifts. “But she’s gone again.” His brows furrow. “Who?” “I don’t know.” You shrug. “Some girl who was looking through the window earlier. She scared the living daylights out of me…..” You smile at your own joke. Taehyung doesn’t laugh. “W-what did she look like?” “Short hair. Almond eyes. About...this tall.” Your hand juts out, matching the height you remember and suddenly, there’s a ripple of recognition that comes across Taehyung’s beautiful features. “Yeonmi?” “You know her?” Your eyes move to look at him, but Taehyung is preoccupied, staring into the distance with a slack jaw, a frown marring his visage. “Hey! Where are you going?” The ghost jogs straight through the wall, away to the garden and out of sight. You sigh. Goddammit. You were just about to ask him to marry you too. But they always run, don’t they? In life or death, you’ll never be popular. // She is heavy, weighed down. It’s an inch on her back that she can’t reach, a tickle at the nape of her neck. Goosebumps erupt and the hair on her arms raise all over her flesh. No matter where she saunters off to, she constantly feels like she’s being watched. “Min Yoongi, if you do not leave me alone, I will exorcise you from this house.” He scoffs. “No, you wouldn’t.” Yoongi’s mom washes her dishes at the sink, scrubbing her plates with passion as if trying to release her annoyance on the porcelain. “You can hate me all you want, boy. But at the end of the day, you’re hurting yourself more than anyone.” He watches her in silence and he can’t find it in himself to disagree. Yoongi does hate his mother. He hates what she believes in and stands for, resents how he never felt her love while growing up, despises how she plays with others’ grief. But he can’t argue or throw tantrums. So he’s made a resolve to never stop plaguing the woman and making her life miserable. The middle-aged woman’s hands halt on scrubbing. The sponge falls to the bottom of the sink and she turns to her right where he’s hovering, feeling the pressure of his aura that’s increasing in intensity. Yet, instead of being bothered, a long exhale is released from her lungs. “Yoongi,” she calls him gently with sad eyes. “You’re lonely….aren’t you? That girl that I matched you with, she can help you. You can help her. The both of you are similar in more ways than one, I feel it.” Yoongi doesn’t want to hear any of it. It’s the first time he admits defeat and walks off. But his mother has his persistence and wipes her hands quickly on a tea towel to follow him as he drifts away. “If you trust me this once. If you believe in me and my work this one time, then you’ll see I’m not wrong. She will help you to peace and you will help her, I am certain of it.” “I don’t want peace,” he responds calmly, but she can’t hear him. “You didn’t believe me when I said I could sense ghosts.” She stops and his own feet halt. An extended inhale is taken through her lips. “And now you’re on the other side, you know I wasn’t lying. Why do you think I’d be lying about this? Stop being so cynical and skeptical for once and trust me.” “I won’t marry her.” Yoongi disappears, dissipating from his spot. His mother sighs, losing sight of his soul and she returns to the kitchen to finish her chores, mumbling incessantly about her good for nothing son. In the meanwhile, half across the city in a tiny home, you’re bored out of your mind. “Hey…..” You’re curled up on the armchair, leaning over to the wooden desk. “Are you going to do anything exciting any time soon?” “Go, go, go,” Jungkook mutters excitedly with his pupils wide, fingers tapping on the keyboard like his life depends on it. This is the most lively you’ve seen him in the past few months. “Don’t you have any homework to do, brat?” you nag him even if he can’t hear you. “What about your history assignment? If your grade drops even more, the school’s gonna call mom and you’re gonna be in a world of trouble. Since when did you become so irresponsible? I’ll throw your computer away!” Jungkook continues to game in the dark. He has no life. No friends. But at least he’s not watching porn. You wouldn’t be able to stick around for that — you’d probably have to poke your eyeballs out and jump on to oncoming traffic. Still, you didn’t know your dork of a younger brother could get any lamer. He’s been playing all day, eating chips instead of having a real dinner, hasn’t showered at all….god, if only you could give him a noogie. Suddenly, there’s a whisper in your ear, hot breath skimming on your skin— “Boo.” “AHHHHHHHH!” You’re scared to death, chilled to the bone, nearly falling out of the plush armchair. Your hand is over your chest, an absence of any heartbeat underneath your palm. “Wh-what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Yoongi is laughing like the little shit that he has. There’s a gummy grin plastered on his face, the biggest goddamn smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Are you scared of ghosts?” “Shut up! How the fuck did you find me?!” His hands are digging into his pants pockets, lips pouted. The only light is from Jungkook’s computer screen, the white hue casting a soft glow on your skin. Yoongi leans against the wall and stares at you. “It wasn’t hard looking for your address when my mom’s written a thousand details about you from your mom. I thought you’d be here….turns out I was right.” You get up, blocking his view from Jungkook. “Get out. Go away.” But he doesn’t move, merely tilting himself and jutting his chin at the boy seated in the chair that you’re being protective of. “That your boyfriend?” “Ew. That’s my brother, you idiot.” “And you’re calling me a mommy’s boy for following my mom around?” “Shut the hell up.” You walk through the wall into the kitchen where your brother left on several dim lights. Yoongi follows you out where you can both talk without the noise of guns firing and bullets spraying. “What are you doing here? Did you change your mind?” “Not particularly.” He shrugs. “I was bored?” “You were….bored?” “Yup. My mom was annoying me with her nagging and I have no one else to bother except you.” “Wow. I’m so honoured,” you deadpan with an unimpressed expression. Yoongi smiles softly, the corners of his mouth curving and his skin bathes in the warm light of the standing lamp. It brings a lump to your throat, but you ignore it. “Did you at least think about it?” “My answer hasn’t changed.” “So if I got down onto one knee right now and proposed, you wouldn’t accept?” “I’d be amused,” he says as if it’ll make you feel any better. It doesn’t. Yoongi takes a long moment to look around your house. Your home is small and sad, falling apart, though he never makes any comments on it. It makes you uncomfortable that he’s prying into your private family life, looking at the pictures and how you lived when you were still alive. But you guess it’s fair he takes a look around considering you’ve been to his house and bedroom a number of times now. “Listen—” “Hello?” He’s interrupted by another voice, deeper and growly. A ghoul emerges from the white wall, floating and pale. Yoongi yells. You scream. The two of you stumble back, scared at wit’s end. The ghost’s eyes are big and he spits out apologies for not making any noise beforehand. At the presence of a new guest, you blink thrice. “T-Taehyung?! What are you doing here?!” “I was looking for you and I followed him here.” He points to Yoongi and the latter man recognizes him as one of the clients. They’ve seen each other briefly before, though never exchanging more than a slight nod of acknowledgment. You turn towards Yoongi, glaring at him for leading ghosts into your house. You’re the only one who should be haunting this place. He doesn’t say anything, solely putting his hands up like it wasn’t his fault and you sigh, turning to the taller ghost. “What do you want from me?” “I need your help. That girl you saw before. Yeonmi.” “What about her?” “I want to marry her.” You exchange a look with Yoongi. What the hell? // Apparently he’s been searching for this girl desperately, going to every place that he could think of only to come up short each and every time. But you’ve seen her….twice. “How am I supposed to find her, Taehyung?” You don’t know anything about this girl. It was all a coincidence. You only saw her because she was following him. For all he knows, she could be right under his nose. You decide to shun him, but his desperate beginning continues. Yoongi bids farewell, making it clear that this isn’t his problem. He’s an idiot if he thinks you’re about to let Taehyung pester your family, so you follow him while Taehyung follows you. It’s a conga line — not of dancing, but of haunting each other. “Please, please, please, Y/N. Help me.” “I can’t.” “Can you two be quiet? I’m trying to rest.” “You’re dead.” You hover over Yoongi’s body that’s laid on his bed again, flat on his back with his arms to his side like he’s a vampire in a coffin. “You don’t need rest.” “Haven’t you heard the saying ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead?’ I’m following through with it.” “I love her.” Taehyung drops down to his knees. It’s difficult to ignore him and you shift on your feet uncomfortably. “We knew each other since we were kids and we dated for a while, but then we broke up and I….I still love her. I still think about her. I didn’t know she was still here.” “What would it take for me to marry you?” you ask Yoongi. “Do you want a dowry?” “I can’t take anything with me when I go to hell.” “You’re already in hell.” The corner of his lip lifts into a smirk. “If you’re here, I’m definitely in hell.” “Wow, bitch. Be like that.” Taehyung swallows hard and his rumbling voice drops down into a whisper, “She’s the one I want. No one else.” You stop, lips falling into a straight line, turning to look down at Taehyung. You take a seat, leaning against the wall with your knees propped up. Yoongi’s eyes flutter open, staring up at his ceiling and Taehyung continues to weep with his head downcasted. Aside from the ghost’s soft sobs, the three of you linger in the silence. “I don’t know how I can help you. I...really don’t.” “Y-You’ve seen her before.” “That was by coincidence.” “She won’t let me talk to her. She’s running away….but if I could just...if I could just tell her I’m still in love with her….” You turn your head towards your supposed fiancé. “You should make yourself useful, Yoongi.” “Die.” “I’m already dead,” you spit at him, serious and no longer joking around. “I get if you don’t want to marry me. But shouldn’t we at least help someone out who wants to get married? I can’t do this by myself….please?” There’s an extended moment of silence. It draws on and on. You continue to stare at Yoongi. He sighs. “......you’re so goddamn annoying.” He gets up and you smile. Taehyung is relieved, looking at both you and Yoongi with a grateful gaze, but your fiancé tells him not to be thankful yet. // Yoongi searches through his mother’s profiles. He can’t pick things up from the shelf, but luckily no one in his family has ever been particularly neat. There are things sprawled out in organized messes and he uses the wind to flutter the pages back and forth, searching for the girl’s picture. You’re on lookout duty, keeping an eye out and following Taehyung closely. She could be anywhere, but you caught her following Taehyung, so there must be something she has to say to him or at least there’s something she wants to do. You suspect her last wish is what’s holding her back. “Is she in the binders?” “I’m still looking.” Yoongi flips through and Taehyung tries to help, looking over his shoulder. Yoongi becomes a little uncomfortable and finally understands what his mom feels constantly when he’s hovering over her. Nonetheless, hours pass until—…“found her.” Yoongi’s mother is humming a song underneath her breath. After a long day, she’s finally able to wind down and relax. The older woman is stretching her shoulders, patting the skincare cream into her cheeks as she prepares for bed. She’s walking over, ready to slip into her toasty covers, but then freezes mid-step, chills sweeping up her spine. She cranes her neck over and souls emerge from the walls. “Y/N? And...Yoongi.” A grin pulls onto her face. “What a lovely surprise. It’s nice to see you two together. Have you changed your minds—?” She’s cut off when you’re accompanied by a third.. “Who is this?” The woman squints as the tips of her fingertips tingle. She feels the air around her and stands straight. “I recognize you….you’re that young man from a week ago...Kim….Taehyung….I’m right, aren’t I?” “Yes, I am!” he chirps, confirming her belief, but she can’t hear. Yoongi apathetically waves his hand into the air and the slip of paper comes out from beneath the door. Her eyes stray off and when she walks over, she bends down to pick it up. “Park Yeon….mi? This is a girl from a while ago…..” Yoongi’s mother is confused, but Taehyung approaches confident and firm. “I want to marry her.” “What do you want me to do with this?” she asks and looks towards the spaces you occupy. Her intuition sings to her and she is quick-witted, catching on fast. “Perhaps...you want to marry this girl, Taehyung?” His aura morphs into a bright yellow, confirming her suspicion. She sighs. “I don’t know if your mother will accept this. We’ve already agreed to have you with another girl….” Taehyung begins to pour out his protests. Yoongi scowls, turning away. But you stay in your spot, trusting in the woman. She inhales and nods. “But….I’ll see what I can do.” You smile, full of relief. Even Yoongi appears surprised, shifting slightly with a lifted brow. But even with things going smoothly, you’re on alert. If possible, you want to get to the girl before she’s summoned. “I don’t know what my mom will say,” Taehyung admits nervously. “She wasn’t ever approving of our relationship…” “Well, there’s nothing we can do. They’ll take it from here,” Yoongi brushes off. “You can only hope for the best.” “I guess….” The three of you walk down the hall, making your way across the manor and back to Yoongi’s bedroom. You wonder if he died in his bed since he has such a damn attachment to being in that same spot. It’s practically his coffin. “Do you have nowhere else to be? Are you going to keep bothering me the entire day?” Taehyung pouts. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.” You trail after the pair of them until something passes through the wall. A small animal with stubby legs causes you to stop. “Holly?” The puppy yelps in response and the two males are too caught up in their banter to notice that you’re left behind. They walk through the doorways, disappearing from sight and you lower yourself to the poodle. The ball of fluff has his tail wagging, happy to see you and a smile itches up your lips. “What is it?” Your arms extend, about to pick Holly up, but he jumps back and totters the way he came. You frown and he spins back to look at you as if asking for you to come along. You follow the puppy, passing through the walls until you’re outside and you hear tinkling giggles. “You’re back, puppy?” a light voice sing-songs and you step into the sunlight. The girl you’re looking for is sitting meters away in the garden. “Yeonmi?” She gasps, eyes wide and looking up at you. “Um...is this your dog?” You glance down at Holly. “Yeah…I guess...” “I’m sorry.” She stands, smoothing out the floral print of her dress and nervously tucking a strand of her hair behind her ears. “I didn’t know. I-uh…” “Wait. Don’t go.” Your hand is extended and you force yourself to remain calm. “Please, listen to what I have to say.” Her teeth sink into her trembling bottom lip and she takes a glimpse over your shoulder. You reassure the girl, “He doesn’t know you’re here. Don’t worry.” After a beat, she nods, deciding to trust you. The both of you take a seat on the bench, watching Holly wandering around the gardens, teetering from side to side as he circles butterflies and the tulip flowers growing with weeds and untamed grass in between. “I’ll cut to the chase.” You’ve never been good at sugar coating things or easing in. It’s better to lay it on flat. “Taehyung wants to marry you.” “W-what?” She is astounded and blinks hard. You’re endeared by how sweet her personality seems and how pretty she is. She’s soft-spoken, but her eyes are bright and despite being dead, they have life within them. “I-I thought he was marrying someone else!” You shake your head. “He went looking for me to try to search for you. He still loves you...a lot...enough to bother me even after I told him to get lost.” “I…” Yeonmi toys with the hem of her dress, wrinkling the chiffon fabric in her hands as she bunches it up. “I was the one who broke up with him all those years ago. I broke his heart. I didn’t mean to….I just want him to be happy….and I thought this time, he’d finally be with someone who deserves him.” You watch her, the way regret has etched itself through her thoughts, words and actions. “I don’t deserve him.” “That’s bullshit and you know it.” You turn fully to her, almost angry at her reasoning. “Look. You’re dead, alright? There’s no changing that. You’re dead. I’m dead. There’s no point of having regrets now. Don’t make up excuses, okay? If you don’t want to marry him, then say so because there’s nothing stopping you now except for yourself and your insecurities.” She blinks hard, taken back by your bluntness. “I….” “Do you love him?” Yeonmi looks into her lap and she confesses, “I do.” “He loves you.” You don’t get it. It’s so simple. Why can’t love and romance be straightforward? “But I just can’t do that to him,” she whispers. “To throw him away and then take him back again. Taehyung doesn’t deserve that.” “That doesn’t matter to me.” A voice interrupts out of the blue and the ghost materializes from the wall. “Jesus, motherfucker! Oh my god! You almost killed me!” For the millionth time, you’re nearly scared to death at his appearance, a hand put over your chest out of reflex. Yoongi follows after the taller male, strolling into the scene with a smirk. You really wish these ghosts would stop sneaking up on you. “How did you find me? I thought you didn’t notice.” “You were gone.” Yoongi shrugs with pouty lips. “Of course, I would notice.” Unlike you, Yeonmi isn’t startled or fazed. Both her and Taehyung ignore you and Yoongi, stuck in a small bubble of only them, locked gazes that make the moment all too intimate. She stands and begins to back away. “T-Taehyung….” “Please don’t run from me,” he begs her with saddened eyes. “Not again.” “I...I’m sorry.” “I love you!” He shouts before she can vanish in front of him. Taehyung’s fists crumple and he doesn’t back down to what he’s been thinking about for the past several years, the thoughts that have been plaguing him day and night, regrets that he lived and died with. “I still love you, even after all this time….I haven’t stopped thinking about you, even after you died.” A ripple of sadness strikes across her features until she’s shattered, breaking down into sobs and rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hands. “I...I broke your heart.” “You did. But that never once changed how I felt about you.” It’s sappy and you’re eating it all up. While you’re standing back and next to Yoongi, you watch the beautiful moment like it’s part of The Notebook. “Y-You don’t care that I hurt you?” Taehyung shakes his head. “You’re my best friend — you’ll always be. And I can’t imagine marrying anyone other than my best friend.” “Taehyung…” “I don’t want to marry anyone else. I want you. I will always choose you.” Yeonmi is the one who steps forward, taking three strides to close the distance between their forms. His arms are stretched and they wrap around her waist. They embrace each other, holding one another close and she cries into his chest and he digs his nose into her hair. “I never thought I’d get to see you again.” He laughs tearfully, staring up at the white clouds in the sky that’s oblivious to them. “When you died….when you died…” “I never left.” “We didn’t get to spend our lives together, but we can spend eternity together,” he murmurs to her and when the words melt your own heart, you realize what a sucker you are for this kind of thing. You lean over to Yoongi. “What he said.” His chuckles are muffled and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, making Yoongi look younger than he usually does. “Your attempts at proposing are getting worse and worse.” “Would it ruin the mood if I dropped down to one knee right now?” “I’d walk away without looking back.” You scoff, the two of you whispering back and forth to each other. “You already do that.” Usually watching a couple blissfully in love would make you feel somewhat bitter and you’d become cynical, knowing that it wouldn’t last and imagining them breaking up and being better off alone. But knowing Taehyung and speaking to Yeonmi, you have a sense that this is meant to be. And you don’t feel so lonely when Yoongi is right beside you. // There’s only one thing left. Everything on the side of death has been reconciled. Now you wait for the side of the living. “W-what do you mean?” Taehyung’s mother is confused, baffled, and her brows are furrowed deep. “He came to me and he told me who he really wanted to be with.” She slides the paper over the table. “Do you know her?” The woman gasps, hand lifting to cover her mouth. Sobs choke out of her throat and she glances up at the shamaness. “Ye-Yeonmi…? But...I...I…” She never once approved when they were both living. “It’s what he wants,” she conveys the message. “He’s always loved her.” The words are spoken with truthful sincerity and even Taehyung’s mother knows it. For minutes, it is silent. Both Yeonmi and Taehyung are seated across from each other, nervous and patient for her response. Would she still disapprove after his death? Even after his last request? You observe the way a multitude of emotions washes over her face and after an extended moment, she puts the paper down, peeling her eyes off of the deceased female. If Taehyung’s mother even had a trace of skepticism towards Yoongi’s mother, she doesn’t have any anymore. “If that’s what he wants…” A wistful smile graces her visage. “Who am I to say no?” It takes one single sentence to hurl the two of them from worry to happiness. They grin at each other, reaching over the table to hold one another’s hands. You’re standing beside Yoongi, leaning against the wall and watching with a smile. It doesn’t take long. Their pictures are brought together and Taehyung’s mom brings a photograph from home as well, an image of them when they were still children. The ritual begins and you help Yeonmi doll up, twisting her hair, albeit awkwardly, but she still appreciates it. They sit together in front of Yoongi’s mother, candles lit all around. Taehyung’s mother sits back with you and Yoongi. The shamaness murmurs incantations, letting a warm breeze sweep over the room as the pages in her books begin to flip. Yoongi seems bored, full of distaste, but you make him stay to watch. Deep down, you’re a sucker for sappy things and you can’t help but clap when it’s all done. The pair of them are overjoyed, content smiles pressed against each other when they kiss one another, trying their best not to giggle when they seal their bonds. They hold hands, fingers interlaced as he teases her for the way her kisses have gotten sloppy. Yoongi’s mother senses their bliss and tells Taehyung’s mom — the latter woman which has her own content smile, satisfied when the weight of her regrets and part of her grief are off her shoulders. The old woman nods and tears spring from her eyes, crying from happiness. Taehyung holds his mother without her knowing. Peace is brought and when it’s all over, you swear Yoongi’s mom turns around to look at you, gratitude present in her smile. “What are your plans now?” you ask the newlywed pair, trying your best to not let your jealousy show. While marriage never appealed to you, you’ve always wanted to be as happy as they appear. “Going on any honeymoon?” “Actually…..” she glances at Taehyung. “We...we talked about it…” He squeezes her hand comfortingly. “And we think we’re going to cross.” “Cross?” Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Y-you don’t want to stay here at least a bit longer? You can’t come back if you cross over. It’s a one-way ticket!” “We know. But there’s nothing for us here anymore.” The corners of his mouth lifts, doting gaze redirected to his wife. “We already have what we want,” she reassures and exchanges loving grins with her husband. “Well…” Yoongi rolls his shoulders, getting rid of the tension that appeared while he was watching the ceremony. He lazily nods and waves them off. “If that’s what you’ve decided…” You flash a frown in his direction, unable to understand why he’s telling them to go for it. But it’s ultimately their choice and you know you can’t stop them if they’ve already made up their minds. If they finished all the things they want to do on this Earth, then there’s really no point in being here. “We really can’t thank you enough.” “If it weren’t for you, this idiot would still be standing in the bushes and stalking me.” He laughs, flicking her forehead and causing giggles to bubble from her chest. “Stop, don’t remind me! It’s embarrassing.” Taehyung grins, ginormous smile plastered on his face, and looks off at you two. “I hope I wasn’t too annoying. Thank you, Y/N. Thank you, Yoongi. And tell your mother I said thank you too.” “I’m sure she knows,” he grumbles. “We’ll see you on the other side?” Taehyung asks, knowing that it’s not goodbye forever, or at least that’s what he hopes. You’re a bit uncomfortable, unable to give a definitive answer, but Yoongi nods again. “Maybe. Have a safe trip, you two.” “We will.” They laugh, walking off together down the street, hand-in-hand. It’s their last stroll together before crossing. You stare at their backsides, how their shoulders are weightless, having fewer regrets than before. You wonder if that’ll ever be you someday. It scares you to think about it. // The strip of paper flutters in the air back and forth, rolling around in the air like it’s a piece of confetti that was just popped in the midst of a celebration. You’re sitting on the ground, slumped against the wall, playing with the feather-light piece of white paper and watching it twirl back and forth. You wish you could touch and maneuver heavier things or fiddle around with other objects. You already have invisibility down — if you had other powers, there would be no limits to what you could do. But at the end of the day, you’re not a superhero. You’re just a ghost wandering the planet. There’s shuffling across the small room. Yoongi rolls onto his side, arm dropping over the edge of his mattress, his lethargic gaze pinpointed on you. The strip of paper floats to the carpet, your attention preoccupied on him. You look at him. He looks at you. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes and you wonder if he’s sleeping with his eyes open. “Why are you so quiet?” “‘M not.” You’ve been hanging out with Yoongi more frequently. When you’re not, you’re following Jungkook and your mom as usual. But nothing’s changed with them — they still haven’t been talking to each other, your mom still grieving, your brother down in the dumps. It makes you feel bad and guilty watching them all the time. It’s a nice change to stop haunting them for a while. If guarding them is your main job, then Yoongi is your break. And while it’s hard to admit, you enjoy his company. Sometimes nothing needs to be said and you bask in the comfortable silence, lingering in one another’s presence. Nothing feels too awkward anymore. “You are.” He blinks tiredly, sounding almost concerned. “You’re always yapping off into one of my ears.” “Fuck off, Yoongi.” You twirl your finger and the tiny paper begins to drift again. “No, seriously. What’s up?” he asks again, persisting. “You’re weirding me out and I can’t rest properly when I’m thinking about you.” You’re not sure what to tell him. “How did you die, Yoongi?” His brow lifts, caught off guard. “That’s a personal question.” “I think we’re past the point of personal.” You offer a meek smile, locking your stare with his again and the paper lies beside you. “You’re my fiancé.” “That’s debatable,” he banters back with a soft smile and then there’s a pause before he tells you without any reservation. “It was a plane crash.” “Oh. Did it hurt?” His arm folds underneath his head and even if your question is stupid, he answers truthfully, “Not too much. I just remember...people and a lot of….” “Screaming.” “Yeah….lots of screaming.” You were in a bus crash yourself. The vehicle skimmed across the road, tires screeching aloud. While the memories are vague, going by too fast that it felt surreal, you remember looking into children’s eyes, how scared they were as their mothers and fathers held them. The bus teetered from side to side before flipping several times and you recall having no control of your body, hitting against other people, against the walls and floor, against glass windows until it stopped. Then your eyes saw fire and you felt warm. But most of all, you remember the screaming. The terrified, agonizing screaming of people dying and calling out to their loved ones for help. It’s terrifying to think about it, but somehow it comforts you to know that your experience with death is not so different from Yoongi’s own experience. “You know…” He breaks the silence, swallowing hard. “You don’t have to marry me.” You lift your head, locking your gaze with his once more. “Screw family and what they feel. You can be selfish. It’s okay. Your mom and brother will recover whether you marry me or not. Time heals wounds. You can leave all of this behind, not worry about them, and cross…” There’s a thick lump in your throat and you divert your vision away from his. “Why don’t you cross then? You’re sticking around because of your mom, right?” “I’m not here because I want to be,” he tells you. “I made a promise to myself to haunt her.” “Haunt her?” “To make her life miserable,” Yoongi says simply, yet you still don’t understand. She’s an odd and an undoubtedly eccentric woman, but you’ve never questioned her kindheartedness. He seems to read your expression and rolls on his back, eyes shutting. You suspect it's the end of the conversation and he doesn’t want to reveal anymore, but the corner of Yoongi’s mouth moves. “My relationship with her was never good. She told me she could see ghosts and I never believed her. As I grew older, I thought what she was doing was gross — scamming people, the helpless, the grieving…” “But when I died, I found out she wasn’t lying.” His eyes flutter open again, looking up at the ceiling and the way the paint has chipped in the corner. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s still forcing these ghosts to get married and it’s wrong.” “Taehyung and Yeonmi…” He cranes his neck over to you, irises darkening. “We had to intervene to get them married. Can you imagine the amount of souls that were married to each other when they didn’t want to be?” “.......She wouldn’t marry them if they didn’t want to be….” Yoongi scoffs. “I’ve been around way longer than you. I’ve seen the things she’s done. I won’t rest until she stops so...you shouldn’t try to marry me. I’ll be here for a really long time.” He almost laughs as he tells you, words bitter, and you twiddle with your fingers in your lap, head downcasted and unsure how to respond. “I...I’m not leaving either.” “Don’t wait for me.” “I’m not,” you murmur. “You don’t have any reason for sticking around,” he says easily like he knows you. But he doesn’t. “If you’re worried about your family, then don’t be. There’s not a good reason why you or anyone dead should be here. You’re the one who’s suffering at the end of the day. And doesn’t your mom want you to find peace? I’m sure she’d be happy if you crossed over.” “I don’t know what’s on the other side,” you confess in a quiet voice, slightly annoyed that he keeps pushing you. His brow lifts and he questions— “Does anyone?” “I just don’t want to leave all of this behind.” You gather your knees together, hugging them to your chest, protecting yourself against your own vulnerabilities. “Look, I never got to experience life. I never got to travel and see the world or fall in love or any of that. I never had any fun while I was still alive, so sorry I’m not eager to cross over to the dead any time soon.” “My life sucked. I didn’t get to do anything. I didn’t get to enjoy what I worked so hard for.” You hate how overly emotional you’re becoming, how your deepest thoughts are spilling out for him to hear. You’re an over pressurized capsule with the lid blown off, fists clenched, looking down onto the floor. “At least as a ghost, I can be around my family and go to school and go home and do all the things I’ve wanted to do.” “I get it.” Yoongi finally understands — you’re regretful and full of self-pity. He empathizes and sympathizes more than you’d think. But what comes out his mouth is condescending, “You feel sorry for yourself.” You glare. “Fuck off, Yoongi.” “You’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself.” His lips are pouty and he rolls onto his side again to face you. “I think we’ve both earned that right. But at some point, we just have to ask if it’s doing anything anymore. You feel wronged, but so what? No one cares.” “Gee, thanks.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “That makes me feel a lot better.” He shrugs. “If you stopped caring, it’s a lot more...free.” “It’s hard not to care.” Years of your youth were wasted. You never accomplished anything and you can’t help but feel you lived an empty, unfulfilled and useless life. Everything was taken from you before you could do anything. It’s unfair. “And that’s easy for you to say. Why don’t you just not care about what your mom is doing?” “Because that’s something I know I can change. But how I lived my life….what I did or didn’t do...what’s done is done. We can’t change that no matter how much we want. We just have to keep looking forward.” “But we’re dead, Yoongi.” You meet his gaze for the hundredth time, wondering how he can be so wise and his presence so calming. “What’s forward? What’s next?” “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “We don’t know until we cross.” “Aren’t you scared?” You look up at him, hiding your trembling hands. “What if there’s….nothing?” “Then I guess that’s okay,” he hums, strangely gentle. “I’m going to stay here as long as it takes, but not forever. I just don’t think I can be here eternally, tied down by my past, wandering aimlessly. Sometimes...I just want to rest. Peacefully.” His words shake you to your core and he asks— “Are you scared?” Yoongi never lies or tries to hide himself. His candidness causes the walls around you to crumble and it makes you answer him with as much honesty as he has shown you. “Very.” “Don’t be.” He softly smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “No matter where we end up, I’ll be with you, right?” You scoff lightly, a bit tearful, but you downcast your head into your lap to not let him see how much he’s moved you. Still, you can’t cover the stupid smile that’s plastered on your face. “Are you proposing to me?” He hums a low note. “Sure.” “Wait...what?” You raise your chin, nearly getting whiplash with how quickly you move. Yoongi’s on his back, staring at the ceiling with his arm stretched out like he’s trying to touch it. He’s completely casual and nonchalant. “You’ll marry me?” There’s a pause. Yoongi is quiet. “I think my mom’s going to marry me off eventually. If not to you then to someone else. She’s been trying to get rid of me for some time now and she thinks marrying me off will placate me or something. I don’t know what that psychotic lady is thinking.” He sighs, but there’s a sparkle of mischief in his irises when he slyly steals a glance at you. “Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re annoying as hell and obviously after this conversation, I find out you’re a hopeless case too……” “You have a real roundabout way of saying this,” you complain with an unimpressed expression. He ignores you. “But if I have to marry someone…….if it’s you...I don’t think I’d mind.” A scoff spills from your lips and you don’t even realize that you’re grinning. “At least ask me properly, asshole. Do you know how many times I’ve asked you?” Yoongi rolls away, facing the wall this time. He shuts his eyes and you suspect he’s ignoring you again, but then you hear his mumbles, “Will you marry me?” It’s barely coherent, but more than you can ask for. A grin spreads across your face, a victorious emotion rippling through your chest and making you feel warm and fuzzy. “Damn straight I will.” Yes, yes, and yes. You never envisioned yourself married. But if it’s Yoongi, you could go through with it. // The bristles of the broom sweep against the concrete, brushing against the autumn leaves as the flutter from the trees. Colours rich in hue, red and gold and tangerine, coat the driveway like oil paints on a canvas. She hums a soft song, sounds taking flight in the breeze and traveling distances far and wide. Two souls pierce through the walls, pulling through the physical matter and passing with ease. You approach her while pondering how she doesn’t get startled. Maybe because she’s used to it by now; she has had the ability since she was born. You also wonder how Yoongi’s relationship with his mother would’ve been different if he saw ghosts too. It is both a blessing and a curse that this gift skips four generations in the Min family. Though you can’t really imagine him as a shaman….it’s a funny thought nonetheless. “There you two are. Spending a lot of time together, are we?” She smiles, continuing to sweep the driveway. “I hope you’ve been getting close, but at this rate, you both might run me out of business. You seem to be better at matchmaking than I am—” she refers to Taehyung and Yeonmi with a grin. “You should worry about your own marriage before looking at others.” The older woman works hard to clear her driveway and makes a mental note to invest in a rake instead. It is silent for a few beats too long and she looks up to find you both there. Oddly enough, her son’s aura isn’t red or black. His soul is almost tinged with pastel yellow. “You two…..you want to get married?” “How many times do I have to tell you?” He drags a hand over his face. “I said yes.” “She can’t hear you,” you chide with a smile until you feel something brush your leg behind you. One look down and you pick up Holly happily into your arms. “Hello there….” “Great.” He lolls his head to the side, having too much fun teasing you, “You got a dog to tie me down, didn’t you?” “I don’t need to use dirty tactics to ‘tie you down’.” You pout, hugging Holly to your chest. “You’re the one begging me to marry you.” Yoongi scoffs. “I didn’t once beg you. You’re the one who’s been following me and proposing hundreds of times.” “I can’t hear you,” you sing-song, ignoring him to coo at your puppy instead. Holly’s tail wags back and forth, ears perking upwards. He’s a part of your family now and you’re about to gain one more member into this small unit that you’re quickly calling your home. You — Yoongi — Holly. His mother can’t hear your banter, but can feel both of your warm auras. Her instincts sing to her and the broomstick slips from her grasps, clattering to the ground. A grin spreads across her face, elated that you’ve both accepted the marriage and she nearly trips as she runs inside the house to give your mom a call. It happens so quickly. Maybe because she’s scared Yoongi’s going to change his mind or get cold feet. It’s miraculous that he agreed in the first place. And when your mom comes by, she’s also happy to hear that the pair of you are willing and excited to go through with it. You’ll do whatever it takes to give her a peace of mind. The ceremony is a simplistic ritual, candles lit all around and the two of you merely sitting side by side with Holly in front of Yoongi’s mom and your mom. There’s no fancy dresses, no extravagant feast, no hundreds of guests that you don’t know the name of filtering through a massive venue. It’s intimate and small, nothing else necessary. His mother’s head is bowed and she reads off the pages of her red book. “—through this union and spirit marriage, their souls shall connect, never to leave the other behind—” “I’m only doing this because it’s convenient,” Yoongi leans in to whisper, but it’s not like they can hear anyway. “Uh-huh.” You tip your head to one side, pretty smile on your face as you bat your lashes back and forth. “You mean you’re not deeply in love with me? You haven’t fallen head over heels for this?” “Psh. Not in this lifetime, sweetheart.” “You’re a blind man, Min Yoongi.” “No.” He corrects, “I’m a dead one.” Infectious giggles spill from your throat and as he gazes at you, the corners of his mouth lift until he’s laughing with you. It doesn’t take too long, just half-an-hour of listening to her words of wisdom and advice, reading off what ministers typically read as they officiate marriages. In hindsight, it’s silly to do such a human thing when you’re both dead. You’re doing this only for the living, but at the same time it’s much deeper than that. Yoongi will become your partner, romantically or platonically depending on you. It’s comforting to know that you won’t be alone. If you ever go to the other side...he’ll be with you every step of the way. “—and with this, let their two souls entwined together evermore….” Her voice fades off and when you look down, you find your skin aglow. Your stomach feels tingly, but you aren’t sure if that’s the result of the ritual or butterflies bursting from glancing at Yoongi. “We’re not going to kiss, right?” “I mean, do you want to?” He licks his lips, half-lidded eyes pinpointed onto your own mouth and he smirks. “It’s not like they would know. We could technically consummate our marriage right here on the floor in front of them and they’d be clueless.” “Yeah, I don’t think so. You’re five lifetimes too early for that, Min.” “What? You’ve never kissed someone before?” He wiggles his brows up and down. “What are you waiting for? If not your dearest husband then who? Unless you’re planning to cheat on me with another ghost….” You’re slightly amused from his scenario. “Would you kill the person I’d have an affair with?” “I can’t. But I could strangle them.” “With those limp arms, you can’t.” “I know something else that isn’t limp….” he comments slyly and your face scrunches impulsively. “Gross. Ugh, I’m so over you right now. When can I get a divorce?” “Never.” He leans in, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. There’s no pressure to it whatsoever, a mere graze of his lips on your skin, but it still catches you off guard. Your pointed glare melts into a pout and he grins. You recognize how giddy Yoongi actually is, unusually hyper and it makes you all the more endeared. Ironically, at the exact same time, your mention of divorce is overridden by the sound of the book slamming shut. “Yoongi and Y/N, I may now pronounce you as husband and wife, soul partners until the end of time itself.” The candles are blown out, flames smothered with the warm breeze that suddenly sweeps through the wind. It caresses against the woman’s cheeks, curling through the strands of her hair and even when you can’t feel anything, warmth spreads from your chest to your toes, making you fuzzy and soft. Your souls are now connected — whether that means. You’re sure it’s more metaphorical than anything. Nonetheless, a sense of bliss ripples throughout your being at your mom’s gentle smile. “Is she saying anything?” Yoongi’s mom looks over and sees the colour of soft pink. “They’re arguing.” “Arguing?” Your mom is both concerned and curious. “In a good kind of way.” She laughs. “They’re happy. Your daughter is happy to have someone with her.” The other woman laughs quietly as well and nods in understanding. After a beat, she lifts her hand to wipe at her eyes before tears can start pouring out. She cries in relief. You wish you could tell her that she was wrong — that someone ended up wanting you anyways. She always entered your bedroom with a pinched nose, saying how no one would want you if you didn’t clean yourself up. But she’s wrong. You found someone. Someone who doesn’t give a shit about anything trivial like that. And it’s not just anyone…. You found Yoongi.

#bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenario #bts scenario #BTS MIN YOONGI AS A GHOOOOSTTTT #and OC WHO HAS TO MARRY HIM OH NOOOO #similar to those episodes in Master Sun #but I got my inspiration from this article I read a few months back

778 notes · View notes

everbrilliantheartbreaker · 5 years

Text

Fanfiction Reader Tag

Tagged by @eyeliner-vampire ♡ ♡

Fanfiction Reader Tag!

1. When did you start reading Fanfic (How old you were or how long ago)?

When I was probably...11 ish? so like 13 years ago

2. Do you have an AO3 account?

Yeh (LadyWisteria)

3. Do you read WIP (work in progress)? Why or why not?

All the time. I’m not picky about this at all. I’m a simple person. I see fic I think I’ll like? I read. doesn’t matter if it’s finished or not. I’ll make up my own ending til it is lol. also authors need that encouragement. finishing stuff is hard

4. What time of day is your ‘fic reading time’?

Usually late at night (like 1 a.m. and later..much later) but sometimes I’ll waste an afternoon instead (2 p.m. ish til I either have to go to work or I finish the fic)

5. How much time do you spend reading fic per week?

Not remotely as much time as I used, that’s for sure. Anywhere from an hour (if I’m rereading That favorite fic) to 2-4 hours if my friend has sent me a longfic again.

6. Do you listen to podfic (fanfic recorded like an audiobook)?

I...didn’t even know this was a thing tbh, so no. Sounds very neat but also I don’t listen to audio books anymore bcus my attention span re: audio input has gotten so bad over the years I can’t focus for more than a few minutes.

7. What’s your favorite fic genre to read?

AUs AUs AUs. and fantasy. and fantasy AUs (although good long AU fics are harder to find). I am a very simple person. I see magic mentioned, I read. I also read a lot of romance fic (proving once again that fanfic writing is often better than mainstream original writing, bcus romance is one of my least favorite YA/movie genres). I don’t read as much of them but I also love mystery and paranormal fics

8. Are there any genres that you tend to avoid?

Super angsty no happy ending type stuff. “Major Character Death” is an automatic nope lmao (unless the summary looks reaallyyy interesting or it was recc’d to me). Tragedy is definitely Not my thing

9. What tag(s) do you track?

I don’t track any fic tags (I stopped tracking tags at all since Tumblr changed it from “keeping track of new posts in said tag” to “dropping random posts from that tag into the middle of your dash, and usually the same three”)

10. How do you find new fic?

Nowadays I mostly just read what friends send me or the new stuff a very few writers I follow post, but sometimes I also come across stuff through Twitter or Tumblr and curiosity wins out

11. How do you organize your fic bookmarks?

I..don’t? Is this a thing people do?? If I wanna reread something I either search through my bookmarks by title/author or just. filter by fandom.

12. Do you subscribe to authors or stories?

Yeh. I only keep up with a very select few of them though. altho part of that is due to several of them being people I followed on fanfic.net years and years ago and never unfollowed, even though our interests may no longer be the same. (the other part is me going “oh I’ll read that later” and then just. never doing it.)

13. What is your favorite fanfic trope?

fake dating and bed sharing are always good

everyone is gay. also Good

14. What kind of plot line are you always here for?

“everything’s the same but they’re soulmates” (oh my god they were soulmates)

mafia AU

MAGIC

I really like in-between scene fics too. the events and character interactions that happen off-screen. I like writing those

15. What can an author do to make you love them?

write about my faves frequently

cool AUs

write about minor characters

good sense of humor

16. What can an author do to make you avoid them?

not into mpreg fics

a/b/o fics make me super wary I usually pass on those, even if the summary looks mildly interesting. they’re rarely if ever done in a way that isn’t rapey and gross

don’t care for fics period that have rapey scenes but you’re supposed to find them romantic

adult/minor ships

characterization is a big deal to me so if I don’t like how they handle the characters, especially faves I probably won’t be back

17. What do kudos mean to you?

when I get one I have a few seconds of “oh someone kinda liked this thing I wrote” and then I carry on about my day >.>;;; (I do appreciate them tho)

18. What kind of commenter are you (No comment, short comment, keyboard smash)?

I don’t comment as often as I mean to or wish I did, but when I do they’re loong comments (I’ve passed the AO3 character limit at least once kshg)

I tend to quote favorite parts and then react to them, and I like to theorize and ask questions about character’s thoughts at a certain part or what author imagines happens before/after the fic

19. Have you ever stopped reading a fic? Why or why not?

Yes. Once because I stumbled into a very sexually explicit fic when that was. Not at all what I was expecting (I was also very young lol), I think there was a very few I quit because they were boring or very poorly written, but most often I “quit” a fic for the same reason I don’t do audio books anymore lmao: because my attention span is sht and my motivation and commitment are extremely fickle things. I either forget or just wander away for a bit and then forget. Often I mean to come back and finish it; it’s just a matter of how long it takes. (I also second hand embarrassed out of a fic so hardcore that it’s been a whole 9 months since I’ve touched it khdfgd)

20. Have you ever read a fic more than once? What is it about that fic that makes you want to read it again?

YES. This requires like a minimum 4 separate posts to really answer but:

Behind Bricks and The Penance of a Killer by Deathbelle

this person is my fricking favorite author ever and these are two of my fricking favorite fics ever, I must’ve reread Behind Bricks 6 or 8 times now and Penance is the BokuAka-centric companion piece to my favorite fic of all time that I always wanted

Mending Bonds and If the Heart Breaks, Does That Mean There’s No Home? by RussianSunflower3

Mending Bonds is soft found family fluff centering on a very minor fave of mine and If the Heart Breaks is very angsty found family fluff that also focuses on some minor characters and it always hurts my heart but the ending and the soft middle always heal it right back up (“[Hanamaki] has a heart big enough for everyone in the world, and then some.” ohhhh my godd)

Boiled Frogs by ReginaGalaxia

this one is. a really hard read centered around emotional abuse and manipulation and hoooo boy it is a rough read especially if you’ve experienced any of that personally but it’s so well written and the character dynamics are great and in its lighter moments it’s fricking hilarious.

(bits and pieces of) The Roost by Ugglabarn

bits and pieces only bcus Roost has a lot of very heavy dark content that I’d have to be in a specific mood to reread the whole thing because it hurts my heart way too much but also it’s one of the best Fukurodani-centric longfics I’ve ever read (PLUS AN AU..!!) and I love love how they write the characters and how much focus there is on the minor members and ships and in its lighter moments Roost is also really funny the most recent chapter was hilarious

Expensive Hotel by Crown_of_Winterthorne

smut. explicit smut. excellent explicit smut with loving polyamorous boyfriends and plenty of consent discussion and kissing. my entire jam right there

Class 1-A Whomst? by Ya_Boi_Hal

this is the funniest chatfic I’ve ever read in my life and the first good chatfic I ever read. absolutely hysterical. also has some really good serious content in the middle and some Aizawa dialogue that punched me right in the feels. 12/10 will read again. sometimes I just randomly say “Mineta whomst??” and cackle to myself

and back in the day it was:

The Flame of Betrayal by DataIntegrationThoughtEntity

I guess traitor! Tahu was a popular trope back when Bionicle fandom was at its peak?? and not everyone liked it apparently but I enjoyed this fic greatly every time I read it it was well written and had interesting OCs and I am actually highly tempted to go reread it again

and Asleep Beneath a Wheat Field by Feline Freak

this was a very peculiar little OC-centric one shot that was also very sad and I don’t know why it grabbed me like it did but I remember rereading it 3 or 4 times at least

21. Do you like sequels?

The fics I like don’t usually come with sequels but The Penance of a Killer is one so Yes

22. Do you like dabbles?

I guess? I haven’t read too many I don’t think but hey, more fic is more fic. Who’s gonna complain about that?

23. What do you wish more fic authors would do?

Write about minor characters more

24. What do you wish more authors would stop doing?

that thing where they latch onto one facet of a character’s personality - or worse, one that fandom made up - and write them as if that’s the only trait they have

25. Do you like one-shots or multi-chapter?

Multi-chapter. I mean both are great obviously but the majority of my faves are multi-chapter and obviously if I like a fic I’m gonna wanna spend as much time in that universe as possible

26. How long do you like chapters to be?

Usually I feel the longer the better. once in a while I’ll hit one that’s so long it’s kind of distracting but extremely rarely

27. What’s your favorite POV (point of view) to read (first, second, third)?

Third

28. What do you think of OC’s?

I didn’t use to care for them very much but as I started reading fic by more advanced writers I found several I really liked. have a very small list of OCs from recent fics I’ve read I would actually kill a man for I love them so much

29. Do you download fic?

No, but seeing as my absolute favorite Bionicle fic vanished off the face of the earth several years ago and I cannot find anything about it an y wh ere sometimes I think about saving my faves. I never got to finish reading that fic and I am absolutely devastated every time I think about it.

30. Tell me something else about your fic reading! Anything else!

best thing is when my friend and I buddy read a fic and send each other our favorite parts

Tag!

@yaelathewordsmith and @samantha-girlscout ♡ ♡ ♡

#Toa does a meme #long post #i didn't forget about this i've just been picking at it ever since u tagged me

4 notes · View notes

cloudy-coyote · 5 years

Text

Necessity

A/N: Welcome to chapter 1 of Necessity! This Supernatural fic is super plot twisty, I like keeping it chill in the beginning and then switching it up when you least expect it! If you love lots of drama, mystery and intense conflicts, here you go. There will def be some romance blossoming, slow build to smutty goodness, it's a good fic, I swear.

Chapter 1: The Last Day

April 5th, 2019

"Eva!" Her mother, Eleanor hollers.

Her eyes shoot open at the sound. It usually takes her a few minutes to actually get up. Whether it's scrolling through Instagram on her phone or stretching her body out, she takes her time. The sunlight was pouring in through the curtains; there was a gentle breeze from her ceiling fan. Then she begins to smell the sizzling bacon and her legs kick into gear.

During the fall semester she despised getting up early for classes, so this semester she got only afternoon and evening classes. Still reveling in the feeling of waking up later, Eva gracefully clothes herself in a pair of sweatpants, keeping her oversized sleep shirt on. She grabs her phone, leaves her room and heads on downstairs, passing all the glowing windows. She's not typically a morning person, but waking up at 11:30 is much nicer than 7:00 AM, not to mention that spring has always been her favorite season.

Spring is jam-packed with blooming flowers, singing birds and soaring butterflies. As soon as you walk outside you're met with beautiful colors and scents of greenery. It's amazing walking weather; you usually don't have to wear coats because it's never too hot or too cold. Everything is absolutely perfect, except-

"Rain," Her father sighs, "It's going to be pouring by the time your classes end."

She enters the kitchen, the smell of breakfast overwhelming her. She takes a seat next to her Dad, Augustus, also known as Gus.

"Well I can't pick her up, I have to go visit my Mother today," Eleanor says. She hands Eva a plate, as well one to her brother Charley.

"It's fine, Mom, I can just walk."

"You're going to have to bring an umbrella with you," Charley comments.

"I know Charley, that was pretty obvious," Eva rolls her eyes, 'such a simple-minded man,' she thinks to herself. She serves herself some bacon and eggs before filling up a glass of water.

She's the youngest of three, only 18. Her oldest brother is Charley, who is 24 years old, her second oldest is brother is Oliver, she calls him Oli for short, and he's 21.

Her mother finishes serving herself as well; Gus, Charley and Eva already diving into their meals. Just as she sits down she recognizes the empty seat.

"Where's your brother?"

To this Charley snorts, "Where do you think?"

"Stayed up all night again?" Gus asks.

This was a common occurrence. And I know what you're thinking, must be a hard partier, huh? No, that's not the case. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Her brother, Oliver, has a really hard time getting sleep. They're not sure exactly what it is. Perhaps he's a light sleeper, or maybe its nightmares, maybe anxiety—could be anything. If there's one thing Eva knows for sure, it's that his sleeping habits are a popular subject of gossip in her house. They always talk about him when he's not around, complaining about how concerned they are. Sometimes he'll even be in the same room and they'll still talk about him to each other as if he's not there. She'd be lying if she said it didn't make her feel guilty.

"At least he's asleep now," Eva comments.

Gus nods. He has bright blue eyes and jet-black hair. Well, used to be jet-black, now it's more like salt and pepper. Eva didn't get his eyes, or his hair, or his height, but she got his personality. There's something about her, that all of her older cousins and Aunts and Uncles comment on. It could be their face shapes, their smiles, nobody knows what it is about the two of them that is so strikingly similar, but it's there.

Her mother, on the other hand, she has big, chocolaty doe eyes, which is exactly what Eva inherited. She is also the same height as her Mom and almost same hair color. Eleanor has a light; hazel colored hair whereas Eva's is a much darker brown. She's sweet, she's caring but she's also incredibly timid. Charley and Oliver take a lot after their mother. They can be shy, can be sweet and could do with a little more assertiveness, exactly like Eleanor. But despite all of their passiveness, they are the most welcoming, warm people on the Earth.

It's funny because the whole family looks unrelated-- like a mismatched bunch. Charley has his mother's light feathery hair, her eye color, but Gus's eye shape and height. Oliver has the jet-black hair, just like his father, but his mother's height and his mother's eyes. And while Eleanor is more on the shy, dependent side, Gus is assertive and sovereign. He has the reputation of sometimes overstepping boundaries—maybe being a little too controlling. And unfortunately, in this family, most of them just go along with it due to their passive nature. That is until Eva came along.

Eva is a little firecracker and a straight copy of her dad. She's always been over-cautious like him, very honest, very assertive. They tend to have the same opinions, but on occasion when he's overstepping, she's the one to hash it out with him. They have a strong relationship.

"How's your modern poetry class going?" Gus asks Charley.

"It's..." He pauses, "Interesting."

"That bad?" Eva asks. Charley majors in Philosophy and Poetry. These are actually his last few classes before he graduates.

He rolls his eyes, "I didn't say it was bad."

"So you like it?" His mom asks. Instead of nodding, he shakes his head. Finding his words, his hand naturally finds his chin as he plays with the light stubble.

"It's just not my style of writing," He re-words, "Kind of weird to be honest."

They all fall silent, concluding the conversation. Eva finishes her food just as fast as Charley. Being both fast eaters, they scarf their meals down and usually leave the table before everyone else.

"So, how did you sleep?" Her mother asks her. Eva looks up from her empty dish to find her Mother's warm eyes.

"It was okay, how about you?"

Her mom sighs, "I stayed up watching tv until...what, like 3 in the morning?"

"Was Oli up too?" Eva asks.

"I think so, I saw the hall light on."

Eva only hums in acknowledgment, not really finding words. It's only a moment of silence before her Mother goes on to tell her about the movie she was watching. Reflecting on what she thought was such an inspiring story. It was a film about the world, it's culture and all the things we could do better.

"Did you know that in Finland, there's no college tuition?" Eleanor exclaims, "But of course in America, every single student is in debt,"

"Including me," Eva adds.

Both of them give a little laugh at the absurdity. 'It really is ridiculous,' Eva thinks to herself. Eventually, Eleanor goes back to finishing her breakfast and Eva silently listens to her brother ramble.

Once Charley finished he had quickly brought his notebook to the table. He pulled out a little packet full of poems and began making his last touches to his assignment. Once he finishes, he slides it back into his bag and grabs his dish.

"Analyzing the poetry is pretty awful, it's nothing like Emily Dickenson," Charley says as he starts cleaning up, "But I do like it when we have discussions about them in class."

"Why's that?" Their dad asks.

Charley continues to wash his dish over the sink before stacking it in the dishwasher, "I don't think anyone else can take the poems seriously either, so it's funny. Plus, all you have to do is raise your hand, say 'I interpreted this to be very self-deprecating', and then the Professor gives you a point, so easy."

"-Sorry for interrupting," Eleanor interjects, "I have to head out, bingo starts at 1:00. Can you wash the pans too?"

"No need to rush, you know your Mother's never ready on time anyway," Gus comments. Eleanor gives him a sarcastic dry laugh, 'always making jokes about Grandma,' Eva thinks to herself. Her Mom gives her Dad a quick peck on his cheek. She hugs Eva and hurries out the door.

Charley steadily grabs both pans, bringing them to the sink and loading them up with soap. He continues to talk with his dad. Charley muses about his Philosophy courses as usual, and Eva begins to drown them out. She picks up her phone, unlocking it. The first thing she notices is a bunch of texts from her friends she seemed to miss.

Sliding on the notifications, she reads, 'I hope she's ok'. This prompts her to scroll up; whom could they be talking about? She finally gets to the beginning,

'Did you guys hear about Amber?'

'No what happened?'

'it hasn't been 48 hours yet, but her parents think she's missing,'

'holy shit,'

'they said she didn't come home last night and nobody could get ahold of her this morning. Nobody's seen her either,'

"Oh my God," Eva whispers. Her brother and dad both pause their conversation, fixing their attention on her.

"What's wrong?" Her Dad asks.

"Amber Shirley is missing."

Her dad immediately jumps from his seat. As mentioned before, he's a very cautious person. He constantly watches the news, hearing about all the bad things that occur. It only feeds his anxieties but now-- now he has something to actually worry about.

"It's only been like, 20 hours," Eva continues, "But she's not home, nobody knows where she is,"

"Oh God," Her dad sighs, "I should call the Shirley's." He picks up the home phone to dial their number. As he talks to them, she goes back to her phone to anxiously read more texts.

'do you think it was a party?'

'nobody party's that hard on Wednesdays,'

'plus she was commuting'

'you guys I think she was doing drugs,'

'really?'

'why do you say that'

'yea did you hear that from somebody?'

'idk these past few weeks she'd been acting so weird'

'what do you mean?'

'she thought her house was haunted,'

'we all knew that, her house is a bit creepy tbh,'

'no, she legitimately was becoming paranoid. she thought something was trying to kill her,'

'like she even started skipping bio because she wasn't sleeping'

'did her parents know?'

'I think she tried to talk to them, im not sure'

'but she was like really scared you guys, she must've been on something really hard'

'shit'

'that's terrifying'

'I really hope it's not heroin,'

'I hope she's ok'

'me too' Eva sends the quick text.

Now Eva finally catches up, she's even more scared. It's very surreal to have something like a friend go missing. She's never dealt with crime in her life, so it all seemed so far away from her until now. The idea that Amber could be gone is frightening. For once in her life she was nervous to go to classes, and not because of exams.

From the moment she read that Amber was missing, an eerie shiver blew up her spine. Even after trying to hope that Amber was safe, that she was okay, praying she wasn't hurt-- that creepy feeling just won't shake off. Her mind won't stop frenzying over what could have possibly happened, what she could have done or even worse, what someone else could have done to her. The idea that someone dangerous could be walking around the streets of Willow only magnified her anxiety.

She checks the time, 12:25 pm. Her classes start soon, so she begrudgingly pushes herself up the steps to get ready.

"Eva, where are you going?" Her dad calls from the kitchen.

"To get ready for class."

"Ok, but you're not walking home tonight, not with Amber missing,"

She nods her head in agreement, "But who will pick me up?"

"Ask your friends, or take an Uber I guess," He says.

"Sounds good."

She makes her way up the stairs to her room; ridding herself of the saggy sweatpants and worn out black tee. She moves rather slowly. Her brain still in frenzy and her body seemingly rusted. It just didn't feel right today. Studying herself in the mirror, she slowly grazes a hand over her necklace. It's probably the most pretty and most precious thing she owns. It's a family 'hand me down', if you will. She got it as a baptismal gift from her Godmother and hasn't taken it off since. The dainty silver chain and tiny blue jewel can compliment almost all of her wardrobe.

She makes note of the extra windy and rainy weather today. Taking a nice pair of true denim overalls, she slides them over her legs. She finds a thick, cropped pullover that was a baby pink and dresses herself in the fleecy garment. She picks a nice pair of wooly socks, grabs her black rain boots. She twists her hair into a messy bun, before throwing on her matching black raincoat.

She sends a quick text to her friends, 'My dad is talking to the Shirley's rn. I still can't believe she's missing.'

'Same'

'My mom wants to bring them some muffins.'

'I think we should start a search party or something'

(Eva) 'That's a good idea. Also, can any of you give me a ride back home later?'

'Don't think so.'

'I can't!'

'Still don't have my license.'

'Maybe take an Uber?'

(Eva) 'Yeah, sounds like that's what I'm gonna do.'

She makes her way downstairs, seeing her Dad still on her phone and Charley at the dining room table studying. She looks to the kitchen to gratefully see Oliver groggily getting a bowl of Cheerios.

"Morning Oli," She greets while looking for an umbrella. He looks in her direction mumbling a gentle 'hello' back. She finally finds a large umbrella buried in her closet. It has a big wooden staff and a simple brown fabric. She sets it by the front door.

Oliver sits at the table watching YouTube on his IPad, while slowly but surely eating his Cheerios. It's the usual routine for him, he's either asleep when she's awake, or he's on his IPad. She grabs her glass from earlier this morning and refills it. She has a couple of minutes before she has to leave, so she decides to get extra hydrated. Walking to campus and all the way around it can be a little of a workout.

She plops down next to Oli, "So how'd you sleep?" He pauses the video, shifting his attention to her. His black hair is clearly disheveled from just being asleep, his eyes still heavy as well.

"It was fine," He shrugs. He's always been one to downplay his problems. Oliver hates being overwhelmed with everyone else's anxieties, so he tends to be vague, and always calm.

"Could've slept more?" She adds.

"Yeah," It's silent for a moment, "You know, I heard about, uh, Amber,"

Eva forces out a breath, her mind circling back to the fearful subject. It's as if all of a sudden her mouth is dry as a desert. She reaches for her water.

She doesn't really want to talk about Amber unless it's about her being found. She can't stand the nerve-wracking sensation of thinking about her—of where she is, of how bad it is, or if she's even still alive. Her mind just seems to go straight to that place, the extreme yet not so crazy idea that Amber could be in a life or death situation. Not to mention, all that they can do is rely on the police at this point. Talking about her—trying to unearth where she is just from guessing does nothing, like literally—nothing. It's helpless, she... Amber, could even be helpless. They're just frozen in a waiting period, can't do anything about it.

"It's just so scary," Is all she manages to say. She glances at her phone, at 12:43 pm.

"Oh, I need to head out," She gulps down the last of her water. Standing up from her seat, she gives Oli an awkward half-smile. Not really being able to conjure up enough energy to fully smile, or keep a conversation going. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she picks up the umbrella and as she's walking towards the door she sees a big, cardboard box just a few feet behind it.

"What's this box for?" Eva asks. She hears some shuffling from the dining room before Charley pops his head in the hallway to see.

"Oh, Dad's going to get the old family videos restored," He responds.

"Nice," Eva smiles at the thought. They definitely have some keepers in there, let me tell you. She recalls once when Oli had brought over a cute girl-- which was entirely rare due to his shyness. But of course, the night he brings her over, Eva, 12 at the time, decided to put on some of the old tapes. It plays, everyone excited to see what it is-- low and behold, a video from when Oli was 4 and was running around butt-naked with Pokemon cards. 'God', she cringes at the memory, she felt so bad about embarrassing him.

She unlocks the front door, stepping out before calling out, "Bye, love you guys,"

Eva hears a faint murmur of 'bye' and 'love you too' from the men of the house before the loud shut of the door. No longer in the warmth of her home; no longer with the sounds of Charley's pencil writing, Oli's slow Cheerio chewing, or Gus's sympathetic worries being spoken to the phone. She can hear the clear sound of birds chirping, a light patter of rain, and the barely audible sound of the wind in the trees.

She plugs her earbuds into her phone, unfolds her umbrella and begins to walk. The old peaceful streets of Willow generating natural, calm energy. She tries to focus on the music, the scenery, not daring to let her mind drift to the blood-curtling subject of Amber.

She commutes to Bartley University. The small neighborhood she and her family reside in is called Willow, and she's lived there her entire life. She only has to walk a few blocks before she enters the campus grounds. The street she lives on is interesting because while it's very close to a college, for some reason only half of the occupants are students. The other half of the houses are elderly people, mostly Italian in fact. But because of that, she has such friendly neighbors. Her parents got to be close enough with some that they'd the old Italian couples would bring them homemade wine and Pizelles.

One unfortunate thing she's learned with living in Willow is that most of the sidewalks have uneven foundations. You want to be careful not to drag your feet cause you can very easily trip...which she does all the time. 'Always been clumsy though,' She thinks to herself.

Once she reaches Ryter Street, she turns right into the other many traveling students. And before she knows it, she's passing by the big Lion shaped fountain and enters the History building. As she makes her way down the busy halls, she notices her friend Nora holding a thick stack of papers. And when she looks behind her, she sees a trail of 'Missing: Amber Shirley' posters pinned up on the walls. Right beneath the bold red letters, she sees the picture; Amber's face, plastered all around campus, but the real Amber not anywhere in sight.

Boy, today is going to be tough.

"Don't forget to send me your articles, they need to be peer-reviewed, full text, and strictly correlational!" The Professor calls out. Everyone had begun packing up their items, desperate to get out of here as fast as possible. From all the noise, his voice began to get drowned out. All the kids began to file out of the lecture, and before Eva knew it, she was one of the last few kids left. Normally she's right with the crowd, antsy to get home. Especially since her mother makes the warmest, yummiest food. Her friends tend to get jealous of it actually, since they live in dorms and basically only eat ramen and pizza.

She slowly stands up from her seat. Her mouth feels exceptionally dry again, which is ironic considering how heavily it's pouring outside. She can even hear the bash of thunder from inside the building. Checking her IPhone, 6:30 pm. A few months into this semester, and she's regretting putting all four classes back to back. Ancient Greek History is one hour, Bio 101 is a two-hour long lecture, then she has a Bio Lab, then finally her Psych 101 is only an hour and a half—but still, she's beat.

She opens the Uber app and orders a car. As she waits to see the approximate arrival time, she sits back down into her chair. A constant nervous habit of hers, she starts toying with the little gem on her neck, twisting it between her fingers, sometimes even spinning the chain around her finger.

Approximate Arrival: 6:45 pm.

Right as she's about to head out to the common area, she gets a text from her dad.

'The Police are finally conducting an investigation. They want to talk to you and your friends. What time will you be home?'

(Eva) 'Probably 7:00 pm.

'Okay. Love you. Be safe.'

She sends a quick 'love you too' text back before standing up. She zips up her coat, nice and snug. As she makes it into the halls, she can't help but stare at the floor. Not having the guts to look at Amber's face. It's weird, not being able to control what she's feeling. This new experience is entirely daunting. It's such an unfamiliar emotion to have someone gone from your life that isn't dead yet, nor found yet, just inconclusive of her existence.

She enters the main conversational area, to which she finds is vacant. Usually, it's filled with students due to its comfortable seating arrangements and its beautiful architecture. But here she sees only two students and one janitor. The emptiness she finds rather unsettling, so she plops down on a couch and immediately opens Instagram. As she scrolls through her feed she jumps at the occasional blast of thunder, followed by heavy pounding rain.

As the clock rounds 6:45, she gets a message from her Uber driver:

'Pulled in behind the apartments on 5th'

'I guess the rainfall was causing a lot of flooding down here', she thinks to herself, what other reason would he park over there? The apartments aren't that far, just a block or so. She just prays she doesn't have to walk through any puddles that are deeper than her boots. Extending her umbrella, she pushes open the heavy brass doors and is met with the chaotic weather. Because it's coming around 7:00 pm, the sky is getting pretty dark. She makes her way towards 5th, but once she gets to the building, she can't find a car in sight. There's a couple of parked cars, the occasional slow approaching vehicle, but she can't seem to find this 'grey sedan car'. She messages her driver about 5 times, but her phone says that her messages couldn't be delivered. She tries to call him, but it won't even ring.

That's when the panic kicks in. And oh boy, is it hitting her hard. With her only source of light being the street lamps and her phone screen, everything around her becomes eerie, vague. She's clicking the call button to her Dad, her Mom, her brothers, her friends, but the bars in the corner of her phone are completely empty. Through all the dense rain crashing from the night's sky, she could barely hear a thing. Her breath was becoming heavier as the thunder became deafening, the lack of light and lack of any safety sending her into pure, unadulterated terror. Her hands were shaking, her lips were freezing and the tips of her toes were going numb—she couldn't breathe a full breath and every time her heart beat faster- her lungs gave out more, her mouth was painfully dry and her eyes felt like they were being pried open to stare into the darkness, and the sky unforgivingly beat down upon her and the earth around her. Suddenly she hears a sharp clink. Her necklace drops to the wet, flooded ground, the moment she frantically bends down to grab it, her fingers barely graze the silver chain before she hears thundering footsteps spiriting toward her.

Next, her body feels as if it's being ripped to pieces, there were scratches; deep-cut, gushing wounds being gouged into her flesh, her skin was white-hot and her nerves were screaming, a loud, piercing pain pulsing into her head, before she could even feel the claws rip through her body, she saw gallons of blood paint the rainwater red, she fell to the concrete, doing the only thing she could instinctively do—scream, a blood-curdling scream, as loud as she can. The last image she sees is a loose paper, destroyed by the rushing water, her peripheral begins to go black, her ears ringing with high-pitched bells, she grasps the paper, her hand crunching directly over Amber's smearing face.

And she softly closes her shuddering eyes, the pain clogging up her body was too much to bear, and she begins to cry--hot tears disappearing into the red-stained rushing water, and she bids goodbye to what she thinks is her last day.

Hey, this is my first post ya’ll, tell me what you think? xoxox I NEED to know if this is intriguing?? Should I post the next few parts? Lemme know

33 notes · View notes