#but some of the voice decisions are just an automatic skip for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anime-grimmy-art · 3 years

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Told you guys I’d ramble in due time.

I absolutely adore Bravely Default 2. It came at a really bad time cos I can’t waste 70 hours on a jrpg, but well, it’s too late to be concerned about that now. And as is tradition with me obsessing over a new game / show / whatever, you’ll basically find a fullblown review disguised as ramblings right under the cut. Be aware that I’m gonna talk about EVERYTHING, so spoilers are a given. Some maybe even for the previous Bravely Default games.

Also, if you wanna talk about this game in any capacity, hit me up, I’m DESPERATE to talk more about it.

Just for reference on how long this is gonna be, I made a voice recording while driving to remember all the points I wanna make, and that recording is almost 2 hours long. I did cut it down but still, this is gonna be a lot.

I’ll start off with the things that actually bugged me about the game, since there are only 3 things that really bothered me. First of, I really don’t like that you can name Seth. He has too much personality to be a self insert and player integration is not that big of a part in the game that this decision can be justified. It wouldn’t bother me that much if it didn’t leave a bad mark on the ending. First of all, we were robbed of Gloria desperately shouting for Seth, which makes the impact work less, and it’s just so prevalent that the name can’t be said because you have all the normal sound design going. If they’d just let the credits still play I wouldn’t have batted an eye, but because every other sound comes in it’s so obvious they’re just silently shouting in this scene, which makes it look silly. Like I said, this decision is more a detriment than an addition, and it’s a shame it casts a shadow on an otherwise heartfelt ending.

Speaking about lost potential, the other thing that really bothers me is the lost potential in certain plot points and character conclusions. I mainly mean Adam and Edna here. Both of them have been built up to be these formidable foes but they just, die. If it was just Adam I’d be fine with it, since you expect Edna to backstab him and be the actual big bad of the story, but I cannot fathom why they dropped Edna this HARD. If not Edna herself, I don’t understand why we don’t get more of a reaction from the Fairies and especially Adelle. I mean, Edna was her sole reason she left for her journey in the first place, then Edna dies and that’s it? No part where she grieves for a second? No concern from the others about Adelle? Mind you, I haven’t finished all the Sidequests, so maybe there actually is one in which this is addressed, but I think even just a Party Chat after Bad End 1 would have been sufficient to show how Adelle suddenly feels about the loss of Edna. It would have made Bad End 2 / The Secret Ending even more impactful, because, yeah, of course, you kinda know Adelle isn’t going to turn her back on fairy kind, but one of the reasons she doesn’t leave is because if Enda didn’t get a happy ending, then she shouldn’t either. It would have been amazing foreshadowing if she showed this sentiment before this scene happened. Other than that, it’s a shame that we know so little about Edna, or rather, how she became ��bad”. I get she’s supposed to be corrupted by the Night’s Nexus, but how did it even come to this? It can’t have been a gradual thing, after all, Adelle says Edna was always good natured and then just disappeared one day. Really would have loved seeing more of that plot point.

Ok, last gripe I have, some choices in the soundtrack and sound design. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the OST, and I will get to that, but damn, whatever Revo used for the lead instrument in Wiswald hurts my ears. It’s a really good track, but I always have to turn down my volume because these high pitched sounds physically hurt. And for sound design. Dude, the Night’s Nexus is the least threatening, nightmare fueled abomination that ever existed. I get that its growl is kinda supposed to be layered with Edna’s or sth, but it, it just sounds silly. If they went the route of just swinging between different voices or began distorting it from phase to phase, it would have been fine. But the choice they made really made an otherwise creepy design just absolutely silly.

Ok, enough jammering, on to the good stuff. Like I said, there’s going to be a lot, so I’ll try to be brief in each aspect.

Gameplay

I honestly like the new battle mechanics more than the old ones. This individual, turn based system feels way more dynamic and it’s easier to strategies in battles. Because nothing made me more angry than setting up for a heal and the enemy suddenly being faster than me and killing my healer. Now it’s easier to plan ahead a bit.

I also found myself experimenting more with the jobs. Not sure what it really is, but none of the party members leaning more towards certain types of jobs and the job leveling being way faster probably helped.

And I know some people get up in arms because the boss sometimes can be a real pain in the ass (looking at you pope dude), I still found it very interesting getting around counters or even using these counters as a benefit. As an example, I made Adelle my main physical fighter and gave her lots of counter abilities to help her profit from being countered by enemies themselves. Now, she can attack enemies, get countered, automatically evade that counter and earn a BP at the same time. Made a lot of boss fights way easier and fun to exploit.

Music

Ok, I will try my best to be really, really brief, because in my recording this part takes up almost 40 minutes. Anyways, Revo might have just become one of my absolute favorite composers ever. I don’t know what kind of magic he used, but I initially wasn’t that impressed with the OST, but every time I listened to it, I just fell in love harder and harder. Before getting into specifics, I wanna highlight the two things that made me love this OST overall. First of all, this soundtrack almost seems like a refinement of BD’s. While losing some of that fairytale vibe, it sounds even more fantasy now. And in contrast to the original, this almost sounds more balanced? Like, BD’s OST felt high energy throughout, BD2’s on the other hand manages to find a good balance between high and low energy pieces. Like, the character themes or battle themes are absolute hype, but the overworld themes are a lot calmer and easier to listen to while exploring. Second big point that makes this soundtrack amazing is that Revo is an absolute god at using emotional progression/storytelling and leitmotifs in his songs. And heck, do I love myself my leitmotifs. You’ve got some obvious ones, like the final battle theme in which all the character themes and other leitmotifs are integrated. Then you got some maybe more subtle once, just like how the overworld themes are just the main theme, just a lot calmer and using the lead instruments of the towns of the areas.

But my absolute favourites gotta be the character themes and the main theme. I love how fitting the themes for the characters are and in general, each of them is such a bop. At first I prefered Elvis’, because I sure am a sucker for jazzy vibes, but over time Adelle’s became my fav. It’s just something about the trumpets, and how the theme almost sounds a bit melancholic and bittersweet, that drew me in. And considering her story, mostly her bad end, that the bittersweet tone really fits.

Then there’s the main theme. Just like BD’s it shouts “triumphant anthem” and it definitely gives you a very familiar vibe, but I’d argue it has even better emotional progression. Heck, the first time I heard the music start up in the reveal trailer, I didn’t have to look at the screen to know this is gonna be a BD game. Also, the credit song version had me weeping at the true end. I’m someone who’s very easily affected by music (if me shouting about soundtracks on this blog wasn’t proof enough) and just hearing that ending song, getting the after credits scene, just for the second credits to start as a freaking duet. Dude, at that point I just started sobbing, I’m not gonna lie. Just this little part showed how much Revo knows how to put emotion in a song and also write it in such a way that he can elicit strong, emotional reactions from you too.

Story

People have been complaining how the story is too boring and kinda disappointing in comparison to the last one, but I just think the games tried to accomplish different things here. Since the BD series is a celebration of old, classic jrpgs, “cliche” storytelling is a given. Though, BD did throw a lot of meta stuff in there too. BD2 in contrast just feels like a direct execution of that initial idea. It feels familiar, it feels comfy and it feels safe. Except for the little things with the endings and then overwriting the Nexus’ “save file”, BD2 doesn’t really get that meta, which is totally fine. It doesn’t try to reinvent or innovate anything, it just wants to be a fantasy story, that might be cliche, but still fun and enjoyable in its own right.

I’d also argue that the pacing is a lot better than the old game, because with BD I sometimes found myself skipping through scenes to get on with the story. Not that this game didn’t have me rushing through stuff as well, but I found it kept my intrigue way better than the original.

Characters

Next to the music, this is the part that I absolutely love the most. While, yes, they did lose a lot of potential with some characters, mostly with the villains, the main cast is just so much fun. I love these 4 dorks so, so much.

I honestly can’t stand how much people compare them to the original cast. Yes, ofc, I’ve been doing my fair share of comparisons too, but calling these four a more boring version of BD’s party physically hurts me. Because except for some initial impressions, the Heroes of Light are completely different from our beloved Warriors of Light.

While yes, Seth and Gloria give off strong Tiz and Agnes vibes at first, they both grow into such different characters that they’re not really comparable. I think this shows with Adelle and Elvis even more. I do understand how people could compare Adelle and Edea, since they’re both the feisty girl type, but I can’t understand how people can see Ringabel and Elvis as the same character type. While those two are the “suave” party members, they act so differently from another. And that’s honestly apparent the first time you meet them.

Anyways, I love these 4 so much.

We technically don’t know a lot about Seth at all, but they manage to pull so much out of just the fact that he’s a sailor, that it makes him really endearing, really fast.

I was kinda disinterested with Gloria at first, because again, the initial impression was Agnés2.0, but she grew on me a lot. Gloria is way more hard headed and honestly sassy in comparison to Agnés and I absolutely adore it.

Elvis. Elvis, my man. I love this fantasy scottosh wizard so, so much. He’s such a ridiculous character but so endearing at the same time. You got all this dorkiness, with him setting himself on fire as a student, him doing god knows what for a good drink or just laughing danger and prejudice in the face. But then you got his super empathetic and caring side. Mind you, most of his wise moments come from quoting Lady Emma, but still, as much as he’s hopeless with certain social situations, he’s actually still really good at reading the room and playing things smart. He’s a smart and powerful idiot, which makes him a danger to everyone and himself, and I love him for it. (I also can’t believe they called him Lesley I MEAN COME ON)

And then there’s Adelle. I liked her from the start, but I didn’t think she would stick out to me. I think now she’s my favourite character. Not even talking about all the stuff that happens in chapter 3 and onward, because these story threads are awesome in their own right, but there’s just something about her personality that’s interesting and appealing to me. Like I said, I’m not surprised people compare her to Edea, I did too at first, but while Edea walks very close to the line of a Tsundere, I was really surprised that Adelle is, well, not a Tsundere at all. Yeah, of course she’s putting Elvis down a lot, but that stems more from her preventing his ego from going to his head than her being all embarrassed. No, Adelle is actually really well adjusted when it comes to communication. While it’s hilarious that she and Elvis met with her chucking her shoes at him, the two just got along well right from the start. Adelle in general has this really open and helpful personality, but also doesn’t shy away from putting her foot down, even if that sometimes comes out as an embarrassed sputter. She’s also the mother hen of the group. She looks out for the other three and gets concerned about them real fast.

I dunno, Adelle just really grew on me over the course of this game, and then her kinda being paired with Elvis too, as partners and as partners, makes me like her even more. Because as much as I like their personalities individually, I like their character dynamic even more. I honestly love the relationships between all four of them a lot. You really feel them grow closer as friends and all the little character sidequests just always made me really happy.

Conclusion

You might not believe me, but I really held back there. This could probably have been 3 times its length. As much as I love this game, it’s of course not perfect. It struggles and flails in some parts a lot and it certainly has some aspects that might turn people off. But for me, it was just a very familiar and comfy game that didn’t necessarily deliver anything new, but that told its story in such a way that it still got me excited to keep going. The soundtrack is absolutely amazing and the conclusion of the story actually got me to cry. While not groundbreaking, this game is highly enjoyable and leaves you absolutely satisfied at the end.

Also, I would like to iterate that I am desperate to get more content about this game, so if you wanna chat about it, hit me up.

Anyways, anyone else felt like having a fever dream when everybody in chapter 2 started talking fantasy scottish? Cos I sure did.

#bravely default #bravely default 2 #bd #bd2 #fanart #review #ramblings #seth #gloria #adelle #elvis #elvis lesley

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

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I am loving your Little Mix member!reader x Tom Holland stuff! Could you write something about Tom comforting the reader after Jesy leaving the band? 💙

Hello darling! Thank you for the request and I’m sorry for taking so long, I’ve been busy with school😩 But it’s finally here, I’m writing about Jesy leaving Little Mix😭Thank you again and happy reading💞

💌.

A Horrible Friend

You knew it would happen one day, but didn’t expect it to be so soon. You knew all the hate and pressure would get too much for her, though you believed that she was strong enough to overcome their hateful words. Jesy is strong. As much as it hurt you and the other remaining girls to see her leave, you were all proud of her for finally putting herself first and doing something for her mental health. Away from the prying eyes of the public, you and the girls knew that Jesy had been struggling behind the scenes. From the constant pressure of being in one of the world’s biggest girl groups and living up to other people’s expectations; Jesy was unhappy.

“Before I share my announcement, can the girls and I just have a moment alone?” Jesy asked, turning towards the management team and producers. Your shared publicist nodded solemnly and ushered the rest of the people in the room outside. You shared a look with Perrie who shrugged with the same amount of confusion as you.

You eyed Jesy warily; her cheeks were a bit puffy and there was a hint of redness in her eyes. Her fingers nervously fiddled with each other while her eyes shifted between you and the girls.

“Babe, what’s up?” Perrie questioned her, concern lacing her voice. Jesy’s lip quivered and her eyes began to water. She shook her head then placed her head in her hands. Jade scooted closer to Jesy and brought her into her arms, “Oh Jesy, what’s wrong?”

You join Jade and wrap your arms around Jesy’s other side. You rest your chin on Jesy’s shoulder while rubbing circles onto her back. When she was ready to talk, she wiped her tears away with the pads of her thumbs, and grasped your hand with hers.

“I just want you to know that I love you all so much. I’m so blessed that you’ve all been part of a chapter in my life and I want to thank you for being the bestest friends I could ever ask for. You have showed me nothing but kindness and love, you supported me through literally anything. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart, you guys mean the world to me. Without any of you, I might not even be here today.” Jesy spoke, fighting her tears and sniffling in between her sentences.

“You don’t need to thank us. We’re a family, Jesy, it’s what families do. We’ll always be here to support you no matter what.” Leigh-Anne reassured her, reaching across the table to take Jesy’s other hand.

“I don’t want you guys to hate me.” Jesy cried quietly. Your brows furrowed together. You squeezed her hand, “Jesy we could never hate you.”

Perrie leaned closer to Jesy, “Jes, what’s wrong?Tell us what’s wrong, please? We’ll do our best to help you, whatever it is.”

Jesy sighed and looked up at the ceiling to hold back her tears.

“You all know that I’ve been having a difficult time. With performing, making appearances—everything just feels like it’s too much now. I love our job and what we do, but for a while now I’ve been finding it hard to actually enjoy what we’re doing. I feel so suffocated always having to please other people and have people expect things from me. It’s to the point where I’ve had to fake my happiness and put on fake smiles just for people to think I’m okay. When in reality, I’m not.” Jesy confessed. From the words that were coming out her mouth and the physical state she was in, you had a feeling of what she wanted to tell you all. Jesy’s voice faded out while your eyes grew watery and your vision blurred.

“In regards to my mental health, I have come to the decision that I will be officially leaving Little Mix.” Jesy announced. The room was at a stand still. Nobody spoke, the only noise in the room were the sounds of you and the girls sniffling and crying to yourselves.

“I’m sorry.” Jesy cried turning to you. You shook your head at her, tears freely streaming down your face. You wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be sorry, but you couldn’t find the strength to speak without breaking down, so instead you wrapped your arms around her and cried into her shoulder.

Tom heard the front door opening meaning that someone was home. It couldn’t have been Harrison or Tuwaine since they’ve both left to visit their families and Harry was locked in his room sleeping in for the day. Which only left one other person. You.

A wave of excitement rushed through his body since he knew you were finally back home. He also knew that you were coming back from a meeting with the girls, which usually meant talks of the next album, new projects, and possibly a tour. He couldn’t wait for you to come skipping into the living room and tell him all about it. Except you didn’t.

When you usually arrived home, you would loudly announce yourself or yell out a “Baby I’m home” to Tom. Instead, he heard the door distinctly shut and a sniffle coming from the hallway. The quietness and the sniffle was enough for him to worriedly rush off the couch.

“Babe?” He called out, leaning past the wall to peak behind it. You were shoving off your jacket and hanging it on the coat rack attached to the wall when you made eye contact with Tom. A small gasp passes through his lips once he sees your tear stained face. He was immediately by your side, wrapping his buff arms around your figure and letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. Finally in the comfort of your lover, you let out all the sobs you were holding in since the meeting.

Tom softly shushed you, rocking you back and forth, while rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Oh darling, what’s wrong?” He cooed against your hair. You didn’t answer, only letting out small whimpers into his shoulder.

You felt his body tense up and his arms tighten around you, “Do I need to give someone a beating? Who made you cry? Was it someone at management? I’ll drive there right now and give them a piece of my mind for messing with my girl.” After two years of being together, Tom was aware of the mistreatment your previous record label had towards you and the girls. Ever since then, he’s been very protective of you (and the girls) when it came to anything involving management.

You shook your head against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso. Tom suspected that you weren’t ready to speak yet; he felt you hiccup against him while your tears soaked his shirt.

Tom lightly patted your thigh, signaling for you to jump. “How about we go to bed for now? We could go to our room and get all comfy, how does that sound, darling?” You weakly nodded as Tom helped you wrap your legs around his waist. Before he can take you both to your shared room, he stopped by the kitchen and got you a bottle of water.

He gently set you on the edge of the bed, twisting the bottle of water open and handing it to you. He got a pair of his sweats and one of his shirts from his side of the closet and helped you changed into them. Your cries have slowly come to a stop, leaving you to hiccup against Tom’s chest, where your head rested on. He was leaning against the headboard with you cuddled into him.

You shut your eyes after feeling them burn from all the crying. One of Tom’s fingers were tangled in your hair and his other was resting against your back.

“What happened at the meeting?” Tom finally asked quietly.

“Jesy’s leaving the band.” You answer, voice coming out hoarsely. Tom stops his motions in your hair and leans back to get a proper look at you.

“What?”

“Jesy’s leaving the band.” You repeated. Tom’s brows knit together in confusion. Like you and the girls, he was just as shocked as you all were.

“D—did she confirm it? Are you sure she wasn’t just mentioning it? Maybe she was joking, you know how Jes can get.” Tom stammered.

“It’s official Tom! I was fucking there!” You exclaim, voice raising in frustration. Your eyes were now open, meaning you didn’t miss the way Tom flinched at your change in tone. You sigh and shut your eyes again, rubbing your temples with your fingers. “I’m sorry.” You apologized.

“No, don’t be sorry, it’s okay.” He assured you, resting his palm against the back of your head to rest it in between his shoulder and neck. He placed a light kiss on your temple, repeating the action a few times to comfort you.

“Jesy said she couldn’t handle being in the band anymore.” You started. “The way she described it was so heartbreaking. Tom, she said hasn’t been properly happy for months now. She was faking it all this time just to make us believe she was fine.” You explained, voice wavering.

You breathed in, feeling the hiccups starting to bubble from your chest again.

“I’m a horrible friend. How could I have not noticed that something was wrong? I should’ve known that she wasn’t herself, I knew there was something off about her but I didn’t do anything.” You cried, tears forming in your eyes again. Tom frowned at you.

“No, don’t blame yourself for not knowing a thing. You couldn’t have ever guessed that she was going through something.” Tom tried to reason with you. He moved some strands of hair away from your face and tilted your chin up to look at him.

“Y—yeah but still—“

“But nothing. Just because you can’t detect how someone is automatically feeling does not mean you’re a horrible friend. You’re only human, sweetheart.” He cradled your face and made sure that you were listening to every word that came out his mouth. It already hurt to see you cry, but it was worse to know that you were blaming yourself for the departure of your friend.

“(Y/n), you’ve always been there for Jesy. You’ve been there to lift her up when she was low. You made her laugh, reminded her everyday of how beautiful she was inside and out—you’re far from a horrible friend. You’re one of the greatest friends she could have ever had. And I know Jesy would agree.” His thumbs wipe at the tears that trailed down your face. He sent you a small smile, attempting to get rid of that pout on your lips.

“I just wish I could’ve done something. Maybe if I did, she would’ve stayed in the band. With us.” You mumbled. Tom hummed in response, “But darling, Jesy said she was unhappy. Whether you or the other girls were to try something, she would’ve still left. Would you rather her continue to fake her happiness or would you want her to leave and take care of herself?”

You frowned, knowing Tom was right, “I’d want her to take care of herself. I don’t want us to hold her back and make her suffer. She deserves to be happy.”

Tom leaned down to connect your lips with his, “And you deserve to be happy as well. Don’t beat yourself up for Jesy leaving, you did nothing wrong. None of you did. It’s just time for Jesy to move on to a new part in her life and find happiness again.”

You hum sadly, “I know. I’m glad she’s decided to do something for herself for once, it just hurts to know that she won’t be there with us anymore.”

“That’s understandable.” Tom comfortingly rubbed your back, easing the tension in between your shoulders. “But I know she’ll still be supporting you guys from the sidelines, she wouldn’t let you guys get rid of her that easily.” He chuckled nudging you with his shoulders. A burst of happiness erupted in his body when he saw a shy smile form on your lips; he finally got you to smile.

Tom squeezed your shoulders at the idea he came up with, “Ooo, once you guys are on tour again can you put my seat next to Jesy? I’ll get to annoy her the entire time and she won’t have the option to leave because you’ll all be one stage.”

You snort out a laugh and smack his chest, “No! Do you want her to hate me? She can’t stand you.” Tom joined you in laughing, happy to see that you were feeling better.

“You know, I’m gonna miss her poking fun at me whenever I see you and the girls.” Tom reminisced after you both stopped laughing.

“Yeah, we’re all gonna miss that. Especially her embarrassing you every chance she gets.” You added giggling softly against his neck.

It was quiet between you two until Tom craned his neck to look down at you, “You guys are going to be fine without her. I know you guys might think it’s hard, and it’ll take some time to move on, but I believe you girls can do it. I know you all can.”

You offer him a grateful smile and press a kiss to the corner of his lips, “Thank you. I love you so much.”

Tom responds to you with a pout, “I love you too, darling. But you missed.”

“Missed what?”

“My lips!” He exclaimed making a show of puckering his lips out at you. You were about to kiss him but decided this was the perfect opportunity for some light teasing.

“Oh sorry, I couldn’t find them from how thin they are.” You apologized. Tom’s jaw dropped before he began scooting away from under you. From the playful glint in your eye, he obviously knew you were joking. Though he didn’t expect you to crack a joke at him, especially after such a heartfelt moment.

“So is that how it’s gonna be? You’re gonna be the one to make fun of me now?” He dramatically asked you, a hand on his chest.

“Well if Jesy’s not gonna be around as much, someone has to do it.” You shrugged, leaving him on the bed and moving to leave for the kitchen. Tom panned his eyes around the room like how they do in The Office.

“I’m just never going to catch a break, am I?”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #little mix #ally’s request #Tom Holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #jesy nelson #perrie edwards #jade thirlwall #leigh anne pinnock #tom holland fluff #tom holland drabble #tom holland blurb

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munsnz · 3 years

Text

TRICKS OF LIFE — STEVE HARRINGTON

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢. — 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠?

Tags: @itsnottilly

Summary : after the troubling interrogation, Y/N sets back off, possibly created contact with an ex-friend, a bully, a douche bag. Learning the conflict and grudges, tension is brought to them.

Navigation — Mixtape

“Y/N, Y/N. Y/N!” A shout flickered the girl back to the futile, cold office, accompanied by the principal, chief, and the officer, who seemed slightly worried about the girl who seemed to have dozed off into the abundance of memories and thoughts overflowing her own emotions, a sense of guilt welling up on her, “Are you listening?”

Her eyes blinked, watching the concerned adults, who were looking back at her. She shakes her head, her brittle hair moving from side to side, trying her best to hold back tears, not wanting to know of the possibilities of Will not being safe. Remembering a bit of the event that carried on last night, she spoke forward, “I-I only remember leaving early, since I had to be home by six. Will was with the party, so I don’t know much from there.”

Callahan cleared his throat, taking the seat next to her, “Do you know what street he usually takes to go home?”

”Mirkwood,” Y/N fixes her jacket, watching her dad rolls his eyes, remembering the fuss the party made while they interrogated them about a few hours ago. She looks around, the diplomas displayed on the back, tears slightly welled up in her E/C eyes, feeling a pit in her stomach, “I-I’m sorry. Is there any way I could help?”

She snapped.

Heavy streams of tears dropped onto her pale cheeks, now one of her responsibilities of whom she had promised to take care of was gone. If she should’ve stayed a little longer, just an hour more, she could’ve prevented it. It’s all her fault, all her fault. No wonder she was a failure, maybe those dorks from years ago were right. It was all her fault her mom ever divorced Hopper. It’s everything, all her fault-

“Y/N,” A large hand rubbed her back up and down, making her try to feel better, the girl that had her hands buried into her face, looked up to see her dad, sitting beside her, “You just have to keep a brave face, and no investigating okay?”

Her heavy eyes drift towards the bearded man, watching her sternly beside her, she frantically nods. Later then, she provided a bit more information about Will and his family, now that she’s been with them for five years now. Ever since that broad decision was made, it would become one of the most treasured moments in her life, the strong bond brought them together.

Excused from the staff, she strolled back to the hallway, barging through her cluttered backpack to try to find a fresh pack of cigarettes, but none were to be found. She sighed loudly, to swing her backpack to its default position and pacing along the hallway. The realization kept hitting her, her eyes burned, while she quivered, biting her lip. That same feeling inside the principal’s office, the guilt. What was there to be guilty about anyways?

“Oh, won’t you look who it is!” A cocky tone appeared from afar, Y/N gave no shit to turn to the voice but instead continue watching the shiny floor, reflecting the lights above, “I guess Hopper is weeping for her mommy. Oh right, she doesn’t have one.”

Furious at the remark, her eyes darted across to find a brunette, with ‘perfect’ hair, leaning against the metal lockers. Steve fucking Harrington. This boy had it all against the girl, ever since those harsh words being repeated over and over, like a broken cassette, threw her into the lowest state. Y/N’s expressions turned bitter, her nose wrinkled, and pursed her lips, “Stop acting like you’re ten, Steve.”

”I see you’ve been listening,” He raises his eyebrows, snarlingly commenting, shifting his hands to his pockets in his khaki jeans.

“So?” Y/N spoke back, slowing her pace down to be able to talk to him although feeling like the need to ignore back again. Why was she going to bother her time with him?

Oh right.

Steve, her old friend. Accidental friends after he was helping his mom bringing in the groceries on a cool December day, back in her elementary school years. After the kind offering Y/N gave during a small ride around town, it evolved to an odd friendship, one to which Y/N had been too attached. Steve might have found it odd that a girl, a girl, like Y/N Hopper would be around him so much. Clingy, was the word he gave her, was it offensive?

Maybe.

But due to stereotypical construct, you would’ve guessed everyone calling them annoying names, couple names, like two romantics although they were only like, twelve. From “When are you going to marry her?” and the “Where’s your girlfriend?” Honestly, no one else was surprised by Y/N’s small reoccurring crush on him. Stuck like glue, Steve didn’t like this bubbly, excited Y/N anymore, she was pushy. Sick of the repetitive comments to him and meeting new friends, who were dickheads in the girl’s eyes, he wanted to push her away, she was annoying, bratty, and clingy. He listened to those kids, these kids that Steve considered ‘friends’ were total assholes, persuading him to become sort of like them. Only the beginning of the 6th grade. They were stupid, naive, reckless, are what other parents claimed to be, couldn’t they move on.

To this day, she still reckons why she ever told Steve, why was she so dependent on someone with who she’d only been friends for months? Why Steve? Why out of all the friends she supposedly had, why him? It seemed like an utter dependency she had for him, she even knows she must’ve scared him off for being well..... her. Y/N was young, it was one mistake to tell a secret to someone you somewhat knew would tell everyone, right?

”Can I tell you a secret Steve?” Y/N crossed her legs in front of him, playing with her fingers nervously. Awaiting for a bit of truth to be let out. As everyone has supposedly known, Y/N had a supposed mother and sister who were alive, and together. Everyone believed that the Hopper’s were the happy family, her sister was alive along with her mom that was still with them. Truth was, Sarah was dead, Diane divorced Jim when the girl was eleven years old. A broken family, from papers to fighting for custody, it was all crumbled to pieces, unlike close and tight-knit families.

Steve looked up from the ground to meet the girl’s eyes. He slowly shuffled closer to her, “Yeah okay tell me.”

Y/N breathed in and out, before leaning into his left ear, “I don’t have a sister nor a mommy.”

”What?” His chocolate eyes widened, scooting away from her, getting up rapidly to avoid contact, “That’s weird! Everybody has a mom! You’re a freak!”

Frazzled, Y/N sat still, watching him running away, feeling a bit hurt due to his reaction. She thought maybe she trusted him with her life although he didn’t feel the same, she thought that he could’ve been more supportive. What if he was right? Anyways, it was ok, it was his first reaction, it’s normal, right?

Nope, it wasn’t. After finding such intimate information about this girl he wanted to get rid of due to popularity, he set off to tell every single kid at school. Maybe this was for the best, he would get her out of the way to focus on his supposed friends. Creating such influence in the school, he somehow got ahold of everyone to turn their backs on Y/N. Oh, what entirety of hurtful words that they targeted poor Y/N with. Everyone excluded her, the freak, weirdo, dumb girl that didn’t have parents and a dead sister. Everybody no longer liked the lonely Y/N, just a bit of trust would be one to ruin a life. It consequently grew worse, it wasn’t even verbal teasing, it became physical. Steve being stupid and reckless had ruined her life, and for what? Just getting rid of her. Realize, how the effect of one's words to make a benefit can create a rumble over people, they were young and stupid..... can’t that be a proper excuse to move on?

Everyone knows Y/N. Y/N Hopper, the stubborn, tired and selfless girl who held grudges against everyone. They all knew she wasn’t going to move on anytime soon. Subtle changes to herself and her personality, she became quiet, reserved yet so outspoken about her opinions. Everyone seemed to have moved on, back into high school, more mature and old enough to hold responsibilities, but Y/N. A slow hatred burned inside her, even though it was years back, everyone liked Steve. That stayed the same for sure, he was more prissy and above it all, unlike Y/N. It may have seemed like........ they never knew each other. Strange, maybe it was better that they stayed apart.

Gallantly watching her feet stay still under her, she looked back at him cheekily smiling as if nothing had happened. Why did he forget everything? “Shouldn’t you be in class, since when has the Y/N Hopper been so rebellious?”

”I was called to the office,” Y/N mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, trying to drift off into the narrow hallway, “What about you?”

”Thought I could skip, Mrs. Wyatt doesn’t do shit.”

Without spatting anything back, the annoyance of the school bell rang for the third period, students piled out of the classrooms in the crowded hallway. Girls and boys trudged along the place, like birds migrating to their destinations automatically, it may seem like a normal fall day in town, but it would be a life changing experience for some. No one knew Will Byers, why would they care anyways?

Before Steve could look back at the girl, she disappeared into thin air, never to be seen for now, back to the boring classes, but with a small change of Will’s disappearance. One disappearance that could change the whole fate of small-town Hawkins, Indiana.

#Steve Harrington #steve Harrington x reader #steve Harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #Stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #steve Harrington x you #steve Harrington smut

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mindninjax · 3 years

Text

Iron and Wine (3)

Chapter 3- Lovely Bitter Water

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Erwin Smith x fem!reader (Royalty AU)

Warnings: Erwin can't keep his fucking hands to himself, sexual tension, some dirty talk, nightmares,

WC: 3.5K

a/n: Be wary of the warnings on this one just in case anyone is uncomfortable with it. But This chapter contains humor and sexual tension and by far was my favorite chapter to write so far.

The high stone ceiling peels away above you to show the sky. It is clear and dark, save for a thousand twinkling lights, the souls of those you’ve lost shining down upon you. You blink, once, twice, as the wind tickles your skin and dances merrily through your hair. There is a warm pale glow above you and your mind is wandering into the cosmos as you feel a pair of cool lips on your forehead. A glowing ball of white light beckons to you as you sit up and gaze around the swaying tall grass around you.

This is a dream.

You stand, the dress you’re wearing swaying with the wind like a synchronized dance. The air smells clean and fresh, like the trees back home. You take a step forward, smiling to yourself and basking in the white light shining down on you. The moon sits large on the horizon across the field you’re in and fills you with joy as you skip freely toward it. You laugh and it rings out into the field like a carol of bells.

You’re stopped in your tracks as a large white hoof stomps in front of you. The ground shakes from the impact and you can see it start to crumble. You look up and there is a beast with the face of a goat and the body of a man sitting atop the saddle. It’s eyes are blacker than an abyss, staring at you blankly. They’re cold, sucking the very life from you.

Suddenly the wind stops and it is deathly silent. The air no longer smells fresh and clean but reeks of rotten flesh. You whip your head around fear creeping up the back of your neck as the clear night sky forms dark stormy clouds above your head. The sky bursts open with an ear splitting crack and wailing misery from above can be heard. It is earth shattering, rumbling the world and making your ears bleed.

Horrific images flash before your eyes in quick succession. Animals' skin and bone disintegrate in his presence. When he dismounts from his horse the land dies beneath his feet and when he takes a step blood stains the earth.

You scream but the sound is stolen and swallowed by the darkness he brings. The last thing you see before it takes over you completely, is the beast opening his mouth, a sinister crooked smile on his lips as he utters the words “I have come and with me I bring death.”

You awake with a gasp and shoot up in the large bed. Your vision is blurred as the remnants of the dream fade away and the bright morning light breaks through the haze. It takes you a few minutes to recognize your surroundings, but it comes flying back to you when you see Historia lying peacefully next to you in bed.

You are in the wolf king’s castle, acting as what he refers to as a “guest” when really you are his prisoner. Historia helped you take a bath last night, washed your hair and dressed you in a light but extravagant sleeping gown. When it was time to retire for the night, she’d bowed to you and asked to be excused. Remembering how fond she was of the room, you’d suggested she stay here with you and sleep. It might’ve been a bit selfish on your part, her presence was calming and her soft breath next to your ear was the only thing that lulled you into slumber.

But that dream almost certainly was a warning. You’d prayed for clarity before you went to sleep and the Mother provided. However, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t woken up more confused than before. What was she trying to tell you? If Erwin Smith was in fact the enemy, the bringer of destruction and death, why did Her whispers stay your blade?

You shut your eyes tightly, put your index finger and thumb together while intertwining your other fingers and kiss the tip before bowing your head. “Forgive me Mother. I do not understand what it is I’m supposed to do. Erwin Smith is the enemy, so how do I stop him and save your children?” You whisper quietly under your breath.

A bubbling warmth pools in your gut when you think about the Wolf King and you don’t like the way it makes your heart thrum in your chest like a caged bird. You don’t understand what part he’s to play, whether you should trust him or not. But one thing is for certain, The Mother does not want him dead. You roll your eyes before getting off the bed and walking to the window to open the heavy curtains and let in the sun’s warmth.

Historia still sleeps peacefully on the bed, her even breathing occasionally interrupted by soft snores. You smile as you watch her, curled up on the bed, innocent and lovely. Perhaps you were wrong to think you couldn’t trust any of the people in the castle. As you watch the bustling people below from the window, you take a deep breath and make your decision. The only people who have actually shown you their true selves are Erwin and the little dog he keeps next to him. Which means, the only ones you have to distrust right now are those two. It would make for an easier time if you were being forced to stay here.

Then it’s settled, you’ll be cordial to the others and keep your guard up around Erwin and his knight. He may think you’ll agree to his plan, but you won’t. The fact that you can’t kill him is bothersome but you can definitely take this time to learn more about how he rules and bring that viable information back to your people.

Two quick knocks on the door draw your eyes away from the people below and your body instantly crouches into defense. You shake your head, trying to break the automatic defensive edge that is built into your character. Cordial and pleasant. That’s what you need to be. A nervous voice on the other side of the door calls out.

“Good Morning my lady, King Erwin demands your presence in the council room.”

You squint your eyes in frustration. Demands?

You wrench the door open to see the tall farm pup man standing before you. He jumps a bit at the sudden swing of the door and his eyes drift down your body before he turns red and looks away nervously. You don’t realize how thin the garment you’re wearing is. Your nipples bead in the cool air in the chamber and a breeze flows through your legs making it cling to your curves. You smile a little to yourself at his obvious embarrassment.

“You’re one of the knights he sent to stand outside my door, yes? To make sure I don’t run off?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

He still doesn’t look at you, but nods his head and says “Yes my lady.”

“I see, and you are Ser…?”

“Moblit my lady. Umm if you don’t mind me saying, maybe you would feel more comfortable in more appropriate attire? The King is demanding I escort you to the council chamber at once,” he says again.

You study him for a bit. He’s cute with warm trusting eyes. You can tell he’s not faking how nervous he seems to be around you but if you were to guess why Erwin would keep someone like him around, he’s probably levelheaded on the battlefield. You do raise your eyebrow in frustration at his use of the word “demands” again but you clear your throat and look at him.

“Well, thank you for guarding the door Ser Moblit,” you say bowing to him.

You smile brightly at him as he’s caught off guard by your pleasant attitude. He blushes again when you complete the bow and gaze back into his large brown eyes. You can hear Historia yawning and waking up behind you. You hear her little gasp as she jumps out of bed and runs to the door, mortified at the way you’re dressed in front of Moblit.

“You can’t just answer the door dressed like that! It’s indecent!” she squeaks, trying to cover you as you laugh warm heartedly at her. The last thing you say to him before Historia pulls you back into the room and shuts the door is “Please tell the King to get fucked in the ass by his horse before he demands anything of me again.”

Erwin lifts his clear eyes from the scroll of parchment at the sound of the heavy doors opening. The sound echoes loudly around the room creating a grand entrance. He stops scribbling and peaks an eyebrow when he sees only one person entering the council room. Moblit clears his throat uncomfortably as he approaches. All eyes are on him as he bows respectfully avoiding the King’s gaze.

Erwin speaks calmly, no hint of frustration in his voice. “Moblit, why is my guest not with you?”

Moblit bows again before responding, “My apologies sire, she...refused to come.”

“Really now? Did she give a reason why?” He asks as if he’s unbothered with the disobedience.

“N..no sire.”

Erwin smiles to himself, thumping his long fingers on the large wooden table. Of course you wouldn’t come. This is exactly what he expected. If you had shown up, that would’ve been too easy and not your style. “Not giving a reason certainly doesn’t sound like something the silver tongued little lioness would do. Come, tell me her words.”

“S..she requested that your majesty… ahem… be fucked in the ass by your horse,” Moblit stutters and shifts his eyes and it looks like it physically pains him to say this to his King. The room goes silent, Hange tries to keep a snicker in, Levi growls underneath his breath, and the others watch Erwin carefully.

He looks back down to his parchment and continues scribbling. “Nifa.” He says not looking up as he continues to write. Nifa jumps at the sound of her name. She sits in the corner of the room, large rolls of parchment are draped over the side of the small table she sits at. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Is there anything on the roster after sunset?”

Nifa shuffles through the parchment as her eyes scan over the schedule. “No, Your Grace.”

“Excellent. Please add ‘fuck my horse’ to the roster for just after nightfall. Thank you.”

Hange’s snicker erupts into laughter as Nifa scribbles in the addition and Erwin smirks to himself.

You sit in front of the large vanity mirror, the candles dripping wax down the candle holder. You stare into the fire, daydreaming of leaving this place as the last remnants of sunlight become swallowed by the horizon. You’ve been cooped up in this room all day, refusing all who came to the door with food and gifts of clothes from the King.

“I still can’t believe you told Ser Moblit to tell the King that. I’ve never heard anyone speak like that about His Highness,” Historia says nervously as she brushes your hair. You’re holding a silver goblet full of wine that was brought up to your room, a peace offering, the woman who’d given it to you said. It wouldn’t be here if not for Historia asking to sample it. It’s true you’ve taken a very intense liking to Historia. She truly feels like your only friend here.

You sniff the wine and wrinkle your nose in disgust. It smells processed and fake, not at all like the wine Carla makes back home. Erwin must think you a fool. As if you’d drink something he’d present to you as a gift. It could be poisoned.

You set the cup down as Historia moves to braid intricate little braids at the crown of your head and let the rest flow freely down your back.

“Well, you’ve never left this castle. Outside these walls, the people don’t speak fondly of your king,” you scold her.

“Why not? King Erwin has done nothing but help me since he found me in my village,” she says seriously.

“What do you mean?” You turn around to gaze at her in confusion. It has occurred to you that you haven’t asked her anything about herself and it saddens you. Your gaze softens as you look at her and she smiles her bright smile at you before a firm knock on your door makes the both of you jump.

“Don’t,” she says, putting a hand in front of you to stop you from moving. “We don’t need a repeat of this morning. You probably almost killed Moblit. Put this on I’ll get the door for you,” she says handing you a silk robe to cover the thin nightgown you wear.

You chuckle as she walks to the door and opens it warily. You hear her squeak in surprise and turn to see her bowing lowly and Erwin pushing the door open and stepping into the room. You stand quickly, pulling the robe up over your arms and glaring as he enters.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says warmly to Historia. She blushes and shakes her head quickly, her blonde locks hitting her cheeks.

“No, Your Grace. My lady was just getting ready to sleep for the night,” she replies, still holding the door, face full of shock.

Erwin’s eyes rake up and down your figure and he smiles that cocksure smile he’s famous for. “Yes, I can see that. Historia, would you mind giving me and the Lioness a moment of privacy?” he asks, bending down to take her hand into both of his.

You’re steaming, grinding your teeth as you watch Historia’s face grow pink and she nods wordlessly to him. “No! Historia stays with me. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of her.” You step between her and the door and she looks nervously between you and him. He gives her a knowing look and she scurries past you, whispering in your ear quickly. “I’ll be back when he leaves.”

When she closes the door quietly behind her, you glare up at Erwin who continues smiling warmly at you. “I see you’re not a fan of the wine I had sent up for your pleasure,” he says walking to the vanity and picking up the goblet. He takes a sip, then closes his eyes and relishes in the sweet taste. “This is the best wine in the entire kingdom, made specifically for the King.” You curl your lip up in disgust.

“It tastes that way. Like it was only meant to please you. It lacks the care, the love for the vine and fruit that you would be able to taste in each sip,” you explain, rolling your eyes. Not like he would understand anyway. A spoiled king with servants to do his every bidding would never understand the time and care it takes to produce good wine.

“Hmm I suppose it does,” he says, eyeing you curiously. You can tell he’s enjoying this, the way his sneaky sapphire eyes move slowly up your body, lingering on the spread of your hips and the curve of your breast. You turn away from him in disgust.

“Why are you here?”

He feigns shock, eyes growing wide and he puts a hand to his chest. “Why, my lady, I thought you summoned me here. Surely I didn’t misinterpret Moblit’s message.”

Confusion floods your face as you squint and question his sanity. “Are you mad? I told Ser Moblit no such thing,” you say, shaking your head.

“Hmm, I thought for sure being fucked by my own horse was some kind of coded message. It is quite sudden I will admit but I have had many who crave me and I will not tell a lie, I am fascinated by what is beneath your lovely gown,” he says casually walking over to stand in front of you and smile down smugly.

You can feel your face heating at the insinuation. As if you’d ever invite him to your room, least of all for that. You sputter a bit before quickly retorting, “Is that what you tell all the women you try to seduce into a pact with you? I am not that weak and I have met many who were worth craving.”

You see the shock flash across his face and return his smug smile. His expression turns dark then and he lowers his voice and moves so close to you that you can smell the lingering scent of the wine he sipped.

“Do not continue to insult me. Your snide comments are only as entertaining as I continue to allow them to be. You would’ve been dead a long time ago were it not for the way I enjoy your tongue sliding over your lips while you say them,” he breathes and the warmth envelops you and makes your head a bit dizzy.

You keep your composure though, opting to continue to tease and make him as uncomfortable as he made you. You’re determined to expose his weakness and walk out of this castle vowing to destroy him and everything he holds dear.

“A shame that even the great Wolf King can be brought to his knees by a woman,” you reply sarcastically.

“Forgive me, but you are mistaking a fleeting lust-filled gaze for something more. I shall not kill you until we’ve come to an agreement, that or...I have at least tasted you upon my lips. And once I have—and I will one day—the fascination will cease. But until then, enjoy your stay in my castle and please read over the document I’ve provided. I am sure it will help with your decision.”

Your hand is itching to slap him across his chiseled jaw. You crane your hand back quickly but he catches it and throws you against the nearest wall. He pins you against it with his large body looming over you, the hand you were about to use to slap him pinned above your head and the other at your side. He tightens his grip on your wrists, a thick muscular thigh wedged between yours, partaking in the warmth radiating from your cunt.

“You’d dare to strike your king?” He grunts in a husky voice as you struggle in his grasp. His breath washes over you again as he cranes his neck down to drink in your scent.

“You are not my king,” you hiss through your teeth.

“Ahh there is the fierceness that makes my cock weep. A true lioness. Breaking you will be the greatest victory I’ve ever tasted. ”

You’re ashamed at how his words affect you. He pushes his thigh ever so slightly up against your folds and you gasp as his cock twitches against your thigh. He stares into your eyes, half lidded as his breathing increases.

His musk strangely reminds you of home, it’s woody and spicy like roasted chestnuts during the Celestial Ides festival. Hints of rose linger around the edges and you try very hard not to be drawn in by it. Your face burns as his eyes shift down to your lips and he leans in to brush his against your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft and he’s very skilled at swiping them against your collarbone and up your jaw in such a way that would have you pleading for more if it were not him. You shudder and hold in the moan that desperately craves to be released before wriggling in his grasp to try and free yourself. Your hand moves to the tiny hidden slit you made in the robe when Historia wasn’t looking.

He moves gently up to your jaw, dragging his lips over your soft skin. He only stops when he feels a cool sharp prick right beneath his rib cage.

“Let. Me. Go. Or I’ll carve out your heart and feed it to your dogs,” you say between clenched teeth and heavy sensual breaths. You push the dagger harder into his side and it pricks through the fabric of his shirt, drawing blood.

He chuckles and releases his hold on you, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender. He pulls a rolled up piece of parchment from the inside of his loose sleeves and places it onto the vanity before saying, “I should’ve known you’d have a weapon hidden on your person. I guess you’ve become a bigger distraction to me than I previously assumed.”

You wipe your neck and face where his lips were in disgust, holding the dagger and crouching ready to spring should he come closer to you.

“Get out. And do not ever touch me again.”

He only smiles a warm hearted smile, as if nothing has happened and walks to the door to open it.

“Until next time, my lady,” and shuts the door quietly behind him.

taglist: @lazyezstudy @jeanbeaux @ixwrites @melyannathemaia @forlancasterrr @starstruckkittensweets @charlotteplsdosth @mythical-goth @casspea @saturnalya @neptvnia @mrs-kuroojinguji

Strikethrough means tumblr won’t let me tag! I’m sorry

#erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin smith #erwin x you #iron and wine #marquie writes

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [8]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, guns, anxiety

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: oh my god oh my god sam stans how are we feeling djkghdfjkhgdf. no thoughts only sam wilson in ep1 of tfatws <333

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Hey, I’m just going to step out for today.” You looked up from the doodle you were making on the corner of the paper. “Catch you later? Just find me if you need anything.”

“You okay?” You automatically sat up straighter, blanket creasing under you. Something was amiss in his body language.

“Yeah, just-” He seemed like he was struggling for words. “-Brooklyn.”

You didn’t get what he was making a reference to until it suddenly dawned on you.

It was the codeword he had suggested right at the beginning of your time in the house. If he was in danger you were sure he’d tell you, at least an inkling of information.

But no, this was for some time alone, further confirmed by the distant look in his eyes.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here if you need.”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, turning around and leaving the room.

You were left staring after him, the drawing you were making of the house layout discarded on the bed. You were working on strategies, vantage points- anything that could help in case something went wrong.

Was it because of the dumb ‘moment’ you had shared two days ago? It didn’t seem like it because he hadn’t brought it up at all and God knows you would never. Was it something else that had happened, something you did?

Stop overthinking. He probably just needs a day to himself.

You had spent almost a month in each other’s company and he had never once complained. He had a tendency to be petty about minor inconveniences, like you trying to watch a movie when his favourite segment on the local news channel was going on. He liked the cooking show they hosted.

He had never made it a point to specifically tell you that he needed some time to himself, much less use the word.

“Get yourself together,” you whispered to yourself, shaking off the nagging feeling you had.

If he had an issue, he would have voiced it. He never shied away from doing that before and you knew he wouldn’t start now.

You forced yourself to think about something else, grabbing the copy of American Gods you had already gone over once before but were subjecting to a reread. Opening the page you had last left it at, you were determined to distract yourself.

Nearly twenty minutes later and exactly zero pages since you had started, you realised that no matter how much you forced yourself to get into it, you went over the same line over and over again, not a single word registering in your head.

“Motherfucker,” you groaned, letting the book fall on your face. You took a long look outside the window, mind drifting.

It was a nice day out. Maybe some sun would help.

You lifted your legs off the bed, taking your book with you to the kitchen. You could get a nice sandwich-- the same as the last three fuckin’ weeks but you digressed-- a glass of water, and you could sit outside for a while. A mini picnic.

You opened a new packet of sliced bread, taking two out before stopping. You pondered over whether you should make him a sandwich for when he returned, knowing that he didn’t eat lunch before he left.

You thought about it for a good minute before rolling your eyes, pulling out two additional slices to make him one as well. It was just a sandwich. It wasn’t a big deal.

Tucking your book under your arm, you carried your lunch and a glass of water to the patio around the back.

The wind rustled the leaves and the sun wasn’t harsh. The low buzz of insects was the only sound that kept you company.

The air was crisp and you instantly felt better than you had all day in the room.

Setting your stuff down on the bench, you sat down, inhaling deeply.

The book suddenly didn’t seem so impossible to complete as you tried once more, slipping into the pages easily. Even after you finished your food, you continued to lounge about there, too engrossed and content to move.

You didn’t notice the afternoon go by, evening coming and going just as swiftly. You swatted at the occasional fly but nothing else bothered you.

It felt like summer break. At least what you thought it would feel like. You never had one, being homeschooled about things from various people in the organization. There wasn’t a singular, long break. You were just forced to adapt.

You didn't know how to deal with the suffocating realisation of knowing there were so many things you missed out on. It grew the longer you spent time away. You just shoved it away, forcing yourself to deal with it another day.

He comes back when the sky is slipping into shades of orange, a backpack on his shoulder. There was a patch of sweat around his neck and his head was hung low as he walked.

“Hey,” you hoped it didn't look like you were waiting for him. It could easily be taken as you camping out there, waiting for your husband to return from a hard day in the fields.

Sam looked up at your greeting. You noted that the bruise on his nose was starting to change colour but the swelling had reduced from how bad it used to be.

“Left you a sandwich on the counter if you’re hungry,” you added. He nodded in acknowledgement, making his way up the stairs and into the house without another word.

You let out an exhale, feeling a little better knowing that he was at least back in one piece. No reason to believe otherwise other than the anxiety you had developed over imagining the worst case scenarios.

You picked up your book again, intending to finish off the last bit before you went back inside for the day.

About half an hour later Sam re-emerged from the house, your attention snapping to him as the door opened and shut. He had changed into a new pair of clothes, looking a little cleaner like he was fresh outta the shower. He had a sandwich in his hand that he had already taken a few bites out of. You wondered if it was the one you left for him.

You didn’t expect him to take a seat next to you on the bench. He didn’t look at you or open his mouth to talk so you followed suit. You continued reading, or at least tried to, as he just sat there, finishing his sandwich without any kind of other interaction.

There was a strange tension he wasn’t addressing. He instead leaned back, arms crossed behind his neck to support his neck and closed his eyes. His foot tapped against the wooden floor and rather than getting annoyed, you found solace in the repetition.

“They recruited me on this day,” Sam said to no one in particular. His eyes were still closed and his feet still tapped against the ground. “Parents died when I was a kid, I got shifted around orphanages and homes a lot. Finally Ransone had someone pick me up.”

You closed your book softly, setting it down beside you. That’s what was bothering him.

Secret adoption is what they called it officially in the business, but around the organization it was just known as the recruitment process. Every record of Sam being alive would have been destroyed to maintain anonymity.

To the world he just… disappeared.

It was a day that clearly brought with it so much pain. You were too young to remember when you joined, and no one had kept track either. You supposed it was for the good.

It was supposed to be a happy day, one filled with new beginnings. Maybe that’s what he would have thought when he got picked. It’s what you did.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not having anything else to offer. You relieved your memories everyday in your head. Having a morbid anniversary of sorts would no doubt drain the life out of you; remembering one singular day that would trigger the rest of the decisions you made in your life.

He didn’t say anything in return. You turned your attention to the sky, finding it easier to look at that than the disturbed look on his face.

“Do you regret this?” he asked out of the blue.

“All of it,” you replied, without skipping a beat.

“Every single one, huh?” Sam’s one eye opened to peer at you.

“It wasn’t up to me to take someone’s life away.” You were just a child. You knew nothing other than what you were taught; so then why was it so fucking hard to forgive your past self for straying into this. “Even once I realised that I couldn’t leave.”

You didn’t form any relationships while you worked with Ransone. Whoever you did allow yourself to care for ended up dead or worse, sometimes as a cruel lesson to not make friends in the organization you worked in because all they served as were distractions and liabilities. Others were plain scum; people who you knew were using you but you didn’t care. The loneliness hurt worse.

“What about you?”

“I’d give anything to go back and change things,” he admitted. He didn’t have a say either. It didn’t make things easier.

“You regret all of ‘em too?”

“Mostly,” he said. “One of them I don’t.”

“That one must have deserved it then,” you deduced. It was the only logical explanation you could think of; the worst of the worst.

“Nah. I let him go.”

It took a while to register what he said.

“What?” You twisted your body to look at him.

“First mission I ever did.”

His hands were shaking lightly, barely holding on to the gun. This wasn’t what he was taught. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

He had already managed to get his way into the house through the back. His partner had taken care of most of it and Sam only had to knock people out. He hadn’t had to kill anyone yet.

But now his partner was injured outside the door. Quick shot to the leg, a punch in the face and he was out cold. Sam was already in the master bedroom by the time it happened. He had no idea about where his partner was, only the crippling fear of being left alone and the nerves from the threat posed to him if this didn’t go right.

He knew he didn’t have enough time. He had only a few minutes to kill him and get out of there before his family returned.

The man itself was sitting at the study table, his back towards Sam. Just pull the trigger and get out of here. It was deadly silent.

“I know you’re here to kill me,” the man said suddenly. Sam nearly jumped but instead tightened the grip on the gun.

“Stay where you are.” He sounded confident.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere.” His chair swiveled around, letting him face Sam. His hair was white with a beard that matched. He was dressed down in his pajamas, a robe covering him. He didn’t look nervous.

“Stop talking.”

“You’re younger than what I expected,” the man observed, not paying heed to what Sam was in. He was a considerable distance away. “You’re not even legal yet, are you? I got kids, I would know.”

Sam didn’t say a word, only lifted his gun up to align with his forehead. “I said, stop talking.”

“I’ve made mistakes. Several, actually,” he mused, “It’s why your boss sent you here. I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Then it should be easy.”

“Oh, it never is,” the man chuckled. “It doesn’t get lighter. You learn to ignore it but it’ll weigh on you for the rest of your life.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. It would get easier. It had to.

“I doubt that’s what you heard, however,” he continued. “Ransone’s a bit… unstable. It’s in his blood, but you- you don’t look like you could live with it.”

Ransone’s history was well known enough that rival gang leaders knew it too, apparently. The man would have been delighted at his infamous reputation.

Just shoot him. Just shoot him and end this.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, taking a sip from the tumbler he had in his hand. “You’re going to be the last person I talk to. It’d be nice to have a name.”

“Sam,” he whispered, inwardly cursing himself.

“Sam. That’s a strong name,” the man said, clicking the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Sam?”

It wasn’t.

“I don’t have a choice.” He hated how defeated he sounded. It was a weakness.

“They want you to believe that. It takes away your freedom. I would know, I’ve used it.” The man smiled, setting down his glass. “I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

“Stop talking, man.” Sam pulled the safety off.

“Once you go down this way, there’s no way you can escape. Someone will always have to die; either him or you.”

“That’s not true.” He could leave at any time. He just needed-

“You’ll see for yourself.” The man leaned back on his chair, resigned. “But for now, go ahead. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He simply closed his eyes and sat back.

You waited for Sam to continue.

“Couldn’t do it,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “Son of a bitch got in my head and I knew what he was doing too. Told him to get the fuck out before my partner shot him in the face.”

“Does Ransone know?” You were still reeling from the incident he recounted. You didn't know what else to say.

“Holds it over me every damn day,” he scoffed. “Some fucked up way of saying that I owe him one.”

To be frank, you were surprised Sam was still alive to tell you. Everyone knew that Ransone forgiven the first mistake someone made, but this was huge. If it were anyone else, he would have had someone try out a hundred different ways to push Sam to the brink of death and back; having him begging for the release that death would bring.

“He hasn’t ever cashed in that favour?”

“He did. Had me take out the leader of the Ten Rings after that.”

“So then why did you still continue?”

“I did something extremely dangerous a couple of years ago that he found out about recently. Used that to get me to come for this mission.”

He didn’t elaborate what he meant and you didn’t ask him to. You supposed it was a story for another day. This was heavy enough.

“He wants to get rid of me as much as I want to get away from him, trust me. We’re the weird, toxic relationship those self-help Instagram pages warned you about.” Trust Sam to make a dumb joke during a conversation like this. “Probably the only time someone from the gang let their target go and not died.”

That wasn’t as true as he thought he was but you didn’t want to seem like you were one-upping him. You didn’t want him to think you were making this about you.

“You remember the big break you were talking about?” you tread carefully, gauging his reaction before you continued. “The one that pushed me up the ranks or whatever.”

He gave a small hum of acknowledgement, bringing his hands from behind his head to fold across his chest.

“Similar story, ‘cept Ransone doesn’t know.”

“What?” His eyes shot open. “How?”

“I was so tired of him treating me like a child. Everyone around who joined after me was out there doinghardcore missions and I was stuck with petty shit.” You didn’t know any better. You wished you had. “So he told me if I made it through this one, he’d send me on more.”

This wasn’t your first mission. You had handled hits before, mostly in the shadows, from a distance.

This was different. It was broad daylight, waiting behind a wall near the gated entrance of the house for a car to pull up.

A challenge, Ransone had posed, with strict instructions to do it in broad daylight. If you got out of this undetected, he’d consider sending you on more sophisticated missions.

“Highly stealthy. They’re dangerous,” you were warned. “You won’t know what hit you if you’re caught off your game.”

The low rumble of the car outside the gate alerted you of your target’s arrival. The gates weren’t going to open, the guards were dead.

The car stopped, waiting for the path to open up. When it didn’t the car’s engine slowed to a stop. The man in the driver’s seat got out to open the gate, giving you a clear shot.

You took a deep breath, clenching your eyes shut for a second before taking aim.

The body hit the gravel and you quickly made your way to the car. You could see the woman in the backseat gaping at where the man was standing a few seconds ago. She was struggling against the door, trying to escape.

She finally succeeded, the door opening suddenly as she stumbled over herself trying to get out.

“Stay there,” you commanded. She slowly looked up at you, face white as a sheet.

“Please,” she croaked. “Don’t hurt us.”

“I’m sorry.” You truly were.

Her face changed, dropping the facade immediately. She just looked on in acceptance, not making an effort to move. Manipulative. She almost had you convinced

You held the gun over her, pulling the trigger. A single shot. Her body slumped over.

You stared at her in silence, expressionless. You let out an exhale, tucking the gun back into the waist of your pants, stepping over her body to leave.

A small, staggering breath made you stop in your tracks. It was so slight you barely heard it. You took a step back, trying to trace where it came from.

You ducked your head to peer into the car, your heart stopping. Your hand instinctively reached for your weapon.

“What the-” you muttered, facing a boy who looked only a few years younger than you. He was staring straight ahead, muscles in his jaw tight.

The son wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be abroad, according to the case file. Unless there were two of them you didn’t know about, this boy wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Listen,” you began, but he didn’t look at you. Just stared straight ahead, body trembling. He was scared. He didn’t show it.

“Show no mercy,” Ransone’s voice rang in your head.

“He’s a child,” you murmured to yourself. Your gun felt heavy in your hand.

Show no mercy.

You could only imagine what would be in store for you if you returned to Ransone with some tale of sympathy. This boy was only a few years younger than you. He didn’t have anything to do with this.

Show no mercy.

“Kid,” you called out. He slowly turned his head. “Go on. Get out of here.”

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Leave. You can’t be seen if someone comes back,” you urged. “I won’t be able to help you.”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

When he didn’t shift, you slammed the hood of the car, scaring him enough to pull at the door and stagger out of the car.

You turned your back to him, not waiting to see where he was going. The more deniability you had, the better.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“And Ransone doesn’t know.”

“There’s no record of this kid. He thinks he was at boarding school.” You shrugged. “Wasn’t going to correct him either.”

“If he did find out-” Sam trailed off.

“I’d be dead,” you concluded. “Being his favourite wouldn’t matter.”

“Why was it such a big deal, this mission?”

“She was a part of a major gang that Ransone was losing to.”

Sam just nodded knowingly, looking ahead again. You knew he’d done missions like this as well. Things like this were common so it didn’t need further elaboration.

“This job sucks,” he let out.

You gave a short laugh. That was an understatement.

“I want out. Can’t keep doin’ this for much longer,” he continued, however, to your surprise. “Don’t wanna keep doin’ this.”

You bit your lip, eyebrows knitted in concern. “You will.”

“How?” You hadn’t seen him like this before, this hint of desperation in his tone that left as quickly as it came. “I’ve tried, everything just comes up short.”

“I’ll help you.” You wanted to, God you did.

“You gonna kill him for me?” He looked at you. “‘Cause that’s really the only way out of this.”

If you were pushed to the limit, if he was on his knees in front of you and there was a gun in your hand pointed at him; would you be able to pull the trigger? Would you be able to kill the only constant you’d had for more than half your life?

“I can’t,” you muttered, dejection making its way into your thoughts.

“I know,” Sam said softly, “I wouldn’t ask you to either.”

You took a moment to observe him. The sun did him good. There was a soft glow to his skin, the colours of the sunset dancing in his dark eyes. Laugh lines were becoming more prominent around them, only adding to its charm.

He was a good man. He deserved better.

“I’ll find a way,” you sounded determined, “I promise.”

You didn’t say that very often. Your word didn’t mean a lot to people in the business, but it seemed to, to him.

“Thank you.” He appeared taken aback but didn’t show it in his words.

You simply sent him a smile, a reassurance. You knew what you had to do, just weren’t sure how.

He was right. There wasn’t a way out of it other than the one he proposed, but it wasn’t an option. You had to find another.

You would. You’d figure it out.

“It’s Cinnamon, by the way,” he said without any context.

You looked at him in question.

“My embarrassing nickname.” This was not where you saw the conversation heading but you were delighted all of a sudden. “My ma used to call me that all the damn time. Mortifying.”

“Cinnamon and Buttercup.” You didn’t bother hiding the grin that spread across your face. “World’s best assassins.”

“If that name ever leaves this conversation, I’ll know who to murder.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried,” you said playfully, nudging his shoulder.

He shrugged, face relaxed. “T’was worth a shot.”

An unintentional pun you snickered at. You didn’t tease him any further, just filed the name away as a memory. Maybe you’d use it later.

“Have you ever let anyone go after that?” You didn’t want to keep coming back to this conversation but you liked having someone to relate to.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Didn’t want to test my luck.”

“Me too.” One had been enough. You lived in fear for so long, waiting for someone to pull the plug and tell him what you’d done. That fear only grew everyday, finding a place at the deepest corner of your mind to fester.

“It’s what I meant when I said Serpentine had a motive to want me dead,” Sam said, piquing your interest once more.

“Huh?”

“The man I was supposed to kill- he was their old head. He disappeared after that and no one heard from him but it pissed off everyone, right from Ransone to their stupid gang’s janitor,” he explained, your eyes going wide with every word. “So the irony is, if we’re right, I might have led us into this situation. They’re looking for revenge.”

“Holy shit,” you uttered under your breath.

“I just assumed he died of old age if someone didn’t get to him first. He looked like he was one birthday away from the grave anyway.”

“How are you still alive, Sam?” you asked in wonder.

“I’d do it again.” He laughed, a deep one from his stomach.

He was reckless, clearly. Happily and unashamedly so. And if you continued to hang out with him after this was over, he’d probably get you killed in some stunt or two.

But maybe you’d deal with that if the time came.

He leaned back again, this time no creases on his forehead from stress. He looked at peace.

You sat together in silence. You occasionally stole glances at him as the sun set in front of you, a small smile on your face.

You leaned your head on his shoulder tentatively. You could feel him tilt his head to look at you and you prepared to have him ask you to move.

It never came. Instead, he scooted closer to you, letting you rest against him more comfortably. Your heart skipped a beat; barely but surely.

A realisation quickly hit you, suddenly before consuming you. Your stomach sank.

“Fuck.”

Next part

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

At 11:08pm In The Music Room, I Was Saved (Part 2)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

Part 1

A/N: second and last part, lovelies. Thank you again anon for this prompt (I may have, once again, deviated from your original idea bear with me), and thank you @venablemayfairgoode for helping me figure out the end (tw: the death of a dog is mentioned :))))))) ). As always, English isn’t my first language. x

Word count: ≈ 7 000

You were so fucking pissed. Also, you couldn’t stop crying. The world had ended on a beautiful late spring afternoon and now, for some reason, you were trapped in a gloomy building with people you didn’t know and the woman who had broken your heart bossing you around.

And the worst was, you had been so relieved to know she had survived. And you shouldn’t have. But the tears you had cried on the plane to Outpost 3 had not only been for your family and friends; they had also been for her. They had mostly been for her. And you hated yourself because of that.

She looked different. Her clothes were darker, her hair was darker, her eyes were darker and they were glazed. They looked as if they were made of stone. Tourmaline maybe. Something bad must have happened to her, but you decided you didn’t care. Bad things had happened to you, too, and one of them she had caused.

“There’s been a mistake,” she said, voice very deep and very slow. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t want to be here,” you sobbed.

“You were assigned at Outpost 2.”

You were so mad at her. Had she done this? Ripped you from your family and sent you to this dark place to spend the rest of your life consumed by grief and guilt and hatred? She couldn’t have done this, she wouldn’t have done this but then again and was that panic in her eyes? It was gone before you had time to take a good look at it, but you knew her. You knew how to read her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, as if you had chosen to, as if it had been your decision.

“Because some rude guys barged into my flat and shoved me into a plane,” you sobbed, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “I don’t want to be here,” you repeated.

“You should’ve been sent to Outpost 2,” she said. She was trying so hard to hide the confusion from her face, but you saw it, and you saw that flash in her eyes again and it was panic.

Suddenly it hit you: how could she know where you should have been sent? How could she –

“Did you…” It was hard to speak. Your throat was too tight. Your eyes widened with horror, and hers hardened. “Are you the reason why I’m here?”

You were vaguely aware that everyone else in the room was staring at you and Wilhemina. You should have felt ill-at-ease, should have felt shy. But all you could feel was anger.

“I don’t want to be here!” you cried again, but this time it was fierce. This time it was a cry of rage.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the ground. The sound echoed off the walls.

“Better sad than dead,” she said coldly. And then she proceeded to ignore you as she explained the house rules.

You barely heard what she said. You were burning, and you couldn’t stop your tears from falling. This was not happening. You were in a dream. You would wake up and everything would be alright. You would count to ten and the nightmare would end.

You counted to ten. It didn’t end.

What you did hear of Wilhemina’s speech sounded ridiculous. No technology? No sex? Death punishment for intimacy? People basically being your slaves? Her eyes were too cold. They were glazed. This wasn’t the Wilhemina you knew. The Wilhemina you knew had used cruelty for protection. This one used cruelty for fun.

A few people protested, but the protests didn’t last long. This Wilhemina was just as scary as the one you knew.

And then she was leaving, to the sound of her cane, every tap a stab to your heart. A Grey led you to your room and you collapsed on your bed, hugged your pillow, and cried.

The next few days you didn’t leave your room often. You felt so empty. You spent most of your time lying on your bed and grieving the people you had lost. You got up for lunch and dinner. Sat at the table and stared at your plate as the others tried to make small talk. The food cube had no taste. It felt like jelly in your mouth. You hated it. You hated having to swallow it. You hated how it never soothed the hunger in your stomach.

You sat on the left side of the table. Wilhemina sat at the head of it. The light from the candles would glint off your food cube and fork. Coco sat on your left, a girl named Mary on your right. Coco would do most of the talking. Complaining, really. Sometimes – but only sometimes – you would glance in Wilhemina’s direction. Once or twice, she met your eyes. Hers were cold and like a black hole.

After the first week your tears finally subsided. You spent more time in the music room with the others, playing board games, reading, talking. Coco was a bitch, but she made you laugh, and you soon befriended the girl named Mary. She was about your age, was very shy and didn’t speak often. She kept in her pocket a photo of the dog she had owned and loved more than anything else, a small, sweet thing with big black eyes named Sam.

You didn’t know how Wilhemina spent her days. You barely ever saw her. You could forget her, you thought, if you didn’t dream of her every night. You would forget her if only your stupid heart would stop skipping a beat and break into a gallop every time you heard the familiar sound of her cane, letting you know she was coming, she was coming! in a second you would see her and be near her and hear her voice. You would forget her if she wasn’t your first thought every damn morning when you woke up. If when she was near you, you didn’t feel like you were burning and suddenly became aware of every single sound that was her, the rustle of her dress, her breathing, her heart beating, her eyelashes fluttering, everything.

You barely ever saw her, but when you did, time stopped, and it lasted forever.

You fell into a routine. Aimless, dreary. Getting out of bed every morning. Eating your food cube. Making small talk with the other residents. A teary-eyed Mary showing you her picture of Sam. Trying not to think, not to remember. It went on like this for a week and a half, until two Greys were found having sex and were sentenced to death.

It was Mary who told you the news, just before dinner. At first you thought she was joking. But then every soul at the Outpost was talking about it and even Coco seemed scared.

You didn’t know the Grey girl, but you had spoken to the boy once or twice. His name was Mark. He smiled at you every time you would meet him in a corridor.

You ate your food cube in complete silence and shock. When dinner was over, when Wilhemina stood up and walked off, you didn’t think. You stood up, too, and followed her.

She didn’t become aware of your presence until she was halfway down the corridor to her room. You saw her slow down, come to a halt. She tapped her cane on the floor, then turned on her heel.

Time slowed down. You noticed every detail, even the smallest ones. The way the candlelight glided over her cheekbones as she turned. You were still so attuned to her, every inch of her.

You stopped breathing as her eyes locked with yours. And it would have been so easy, to take a step forward, to wrap your arms around her waist, to pull her close and go back home. It seemed her eyes were pleading you to do just that.

But then she blinked, and her eyes turned cold. Glazed. Tourmaline. You felt your body stiffen.

“May I speak to you?” you asked, almost a hiss. Then you added, “Ms Venable.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly at you, raised her chin. “I do not care to hear what you have to say,” she said coldly.

You took a step forward and snarled, “I will say it. You can either listen to me here, or in your room. Office. Whatever.”

Her nostrils flared, and for a second you thought she was going to slap you. You had seen her slap some of the other residents who had dared question her rules. That was one of the things the new Wilhemina had no problem doing.

But she merely nodded, almost imperceptibly, and led you to her room.

You tried not to look. At the bed, perfectly made, at the pillow where she laid her head every night. At the vanity where she did her hair and make-up every morning. All the small rituals you knew so well.

It hurt. Merely standing there in her room felt like someone was crushing your heart between cold fingers.

You came to a halt in the middle of the room and tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. Wilhemina stopped in front of you, rested both her hands on the head of her cane.

How did she look so different? Why was her face so hard and so cold? She reminded you of the ancient statues of Greek or Italian gods. The powerful, lifeless stare. The dangerous power. How she could destroy you – how she had destroyed you – with one word or one tap of her cane on the floor.

You searched her face for the light, for the fear, for the love, the shyness and the boldness, the desire to be completely, truly seen and loved. You found nothing.

“Well?” she asked, annoyed, after a while.

You cleared your throat. “I heard you’re gonna have Mark and that Grey girl executed tomorrow morning.”

“You heard right,” she mocked.

You cleared your throat again. Your right hand twitched at your side. “Why?”

She made an annoyed noise. “You know why. They didn’t follow the rules. They put their own little disgusting needs first and compromised the group. We cannot have more mouths to feed.”

“Disgusting needs,” you repeated automatically. You took one step towards her and raised your head defiantly. “I don’t remember you calling sex ‘disgusting’ when we were doing it.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Something that almost looked familiar.

“Don’t be crude,” she hissed.

“You cannot have those two Greys killed,” you went on, ignoring her. “That’s murder, Wilhemina.”

Her name dropped from your mouth before you had time to think. You paused. She didn’t react.

“I know you’re better than that,” you added, taking another step towards her. Closer. You wanted to reach out and touch her. It seemed to you she was leaning forward, forward – towards you. It seemed to you her eyes flicked to your lips.

How you had missed her. How you missed her still. How you wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and demand an explanation as to why she had destroyed your world, stolen all the stars from your night sky. How had she dared, who did she think she was, and what had happened to her that had stolen all the light from her eyes?

“For God’s sake, Wilhemina,” you cried when still she didn’t react, didn’t speak, didn’t move, “you can’t kill two people for being in love!”

“Why not?”she hissed, low and dangerous, like a snake.”What’s so special about love?”

“You know what’s so special about love. You felt it.” A pause. “And don’t tell me you didn’t. You may think you were good at hiding your feelings, but you weren’t.”

Wilhemina’s gaze hardened. “Those two Greys will die tomorrow at dawn,” she answered emotionlessly.

You raised your hands in frustration. “What’s wrong with you?” you cried. Again, she didn’t react. Her silence only fueled your anger. “If you do that,” you went on, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from yelling the words, “if you have them killed, you’ll be walking down a path I cannot follow you on.” You gave a mirthless laugh. “But I guess you don’t care. Who am I kidding? You don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. You made that clear months ago. But ask yourself this question, Wilhemina: will you be able to sleep knowing you’ve killed two innocent people?”

Oh, she would. Without a doubt she would. She knew it and you knew it and you saw it on her face. Yours turned sickly pale.

“Okay,” you mumbled, lowering your head in defeat. “Okay. I – you know what, I –“ You met her eyes again. “I don’t even know how I could fall in love with you in the first place.”

She swallowed, but her face remained blank. But that familiar something flashed in her eyes again, something sad, that looked almost like the Wilhemina she used to be.

You knew confronting her would likely make her shut down. You knew that. But you were only human, for God’s sake, and you had been hurt and betrayed and it was a well-known fact, that anger was stronger than Man.

So you took yet another step towards her and clenched your fists.

“I have questions,” you growled, “and you’re going to answer them. Why am I here? What made you think you could dump me with no explanation? Did you even love me, or was it all a game to you?”

By the end of your little outburst you were breathless, and Wilhemina, the Wilhemina you had tried to reach and caught a glimpse of, had been roughly locked away.

“Say one more word,” she enunciated, glazed, empty eyes staring right into yours,” and I’ll have you arrested and whipped every day until you meet your pitiful end.”

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off. “Don’t forget who you are, Y/N. I’m the only one who has authority here. If you question me or my rules again, I’ll make sure that insolent tongue of yours is nicely severed from the rest of your body. And don’t think I won’t enjoy watching.”

Your whole body was shaking. But it wasn’t with fear. It was with rage, and with something else you didn’t like at all, for that something else was love. Love that was terrified and aching because this wasn’t her, this wasn’t right, and part of you desperately wanted to make it right again.

Someone knocked on the door. Your eyes widened.

Don’t, you screamed at Wilhemina in your head. Ignore whoever it is. Talk to me. Let me in, let me help you, let me –

“Yes?” Wilhemina called.

The door opened, and Mary shyly stepped into the room. “I, um, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said in her sweet, low voice. “But, um, Y/N, I need your help with something.”

“Can’t it wait?” you asked her, your gaze not leaving Wilhemina’s face, your voice shaking, your body shaking with rage and love and ache.

“Obviously it cannot,” Wilhemina answered, eyes boring into you. “Or else little Mary wouldn’t have been brave enough to push that door open.”

Mary shot her a scared glance and immediately lowered her eyes again.

Send her off, you begged Wilhemina. Make me stay.

Her gaze was too intense, it was too cold, too dark. You lowered your head and turned to Mary.

“I lied,” Mary whispered once she had closed the door behind you two. She glanced up at you with a smile. “I don’t need your help with anything. I just thought I should come and rescue you.”

You swallowed. Your body was still shaking, and you couldn’t unclench your fists. “Right.”

“I heard her threaten you. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you retorted sharply.

Wilhemina wouldn’t hurt you, you thought. She had only tried to scare you, to push you away. She would never carry out her threat.

But then again. You didn’t know what this new Wilhemina was capable of. Fear vaguely sang in your chest. Maybe she had meant every word.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you,” Mary was saying, “please tell me. I’ll be happy to listen.”

You thanked her, told her you wanted to be alone, and went to your room.

Wilhemina had decided the execution would be public to set an example. All the residents of Outpost 3 gathered in the music room and the two Greys who were to die were ordered to sit down on their knees in the middle of the room. They were both crying. Pathetic. Weak. Wilhemina looked down on them and smiled to herself.

A guard walked in with a gun. The Grey boy whimpered.

Someone – the hairdresser – mumbled something, a protest probably, but he was too scared to say it loudly. The old lady who had once been a star nodded at Wilhemina and gave her a smile and a thumbs up. Wilhemina ignored her.

You were standing in front of her slightly on her left, by Mary’s side. Wilhemina was trying not to pay you attention, but somehow you were the only person she could see.

You spent an awful lot of time with Mary, she had noticed. Laughing together, talking together, napping together. Good thing for you. Mary was just the type of person who would treat you right. She’d be kind, and happy, and healthy, and enough.

The Grey boy said something, pleaded for his life, probably. Wilhemina didn’t care. She didn’t listen. She nodded to the guard, and he crossed to him, holding the gun in front of him.

Wilhemina saw Mary grab your hand, saw you touch your shoulder to hers. Oh, you would be alright.

She didn’t know why, but her eyes had started to sting. Her hands were shaking. She willed them not to. They would not stop.

The guard raised his gun, pointed it at the Grey boy’s head, but Wilhemina didn’t see him, not really. She saw you turn your head and look at her, your eyes glossy and pleading, your hand holding Mary’s, and Wilhemina took a sharp intake of breath and felt tears pool in her eyes for she had loved and loved you and she had lost you. And now she was losing you again.

But she couldn’t go back, not now. She would lose her authority, she would be laughed at. And besides, she didn’t want to. This execution was the right thing to do. It would make everyone at the Outpost fear and respect her. They would bow their heads to her and they would hate her but they would never, never laugh at her.

There was a low but fierce shout, “Stop!” Your voice.

The guard lowered his arm slightly. He looked at you, confused, then at Wilhemina, awaiting orders. You stepped forward, letting go of Mary’s hand, came to a halt as if you weren’t sure what to do. A second passed. Then you crossed to Wilhemina, cupped her face in your hands, searched her eyes and murmured, “I love you.”

Something inside of her melted. The warmth from your touch and the warmth from your voice seeped into her and turned ice into water. The water washed down everything and left her insides dripping wet and glinting in the sun like after a hurricane.

You had spoken too low for the others to hear, but they saw the change on Wilhemina’s face. They saw her eyes widen and the light weave in as if she had opened a blind to let the sun in. They saw life and emotion settle back on her face and soften it.

For the first time since the world had ended, since you had walked into this music room sobbing and looked up and met Wilhemina’s eyes, you found her again. And you fell in love with her all over again.

You tried to give her a smile, and it was small and quivering, but it was genuine. It was fond. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as she searched your eyes, wondering, hoping, and when she blinked a tear rolled down her cheek and you caught it with your thumb. You were crying, too, but you smiled again, stroke her cheek. You felt the tension leave your shoulders.

The gunshot echoed off the walls as loud as a crack of thunder. It made everyone in the room jump. The Grey girl screamed as Mark slumped onto the floor at the guard’s feet. The guard moved his hand, pointed his gun at the girl and pulled the trigger.

The second gunshot was louder, somehow. It deafened you and left a ringing in your ears. Your hands fell from Wilhemina’s face as you both turned to stare at the two corpses. Blood slowly pooled around them and shone faintly in the candlelight.

The guard met your horrified gaze and shrugged. “Following orders,” he said nonchalantly. “It was taking too long.”

Wilhemina was staring down at the two dead bodies with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she looked up at the guard, and her eyes were glazed again.

“I didn’t order you to shoot,” she said coldly.

“You did,” the guard argued.

“She told you to stop,” Wilhemina said, nodding at you, her voice growing angry now.

The guard shrugged again. “I only take my orders from you.” He raised his gun and held it to his chest, a defiant look in his eyes.

Someone in the room was crying softly. You didn’t know who. Your mind had gone numb.

Wilhemina turned away from you. Slowly, regally, she walked to the corpses, her dark, glazed eyes fixed on the boy’s head. She stopped in front of him and tapped her cane on the ground. Then she gave orders to carry the corpses outside and burn them.

Dinner was silent that night. You swallowed your food cube and drank your water. You couldn’t look at Wilhemina. Coco tried to diffuse the tension with a few sly remarks that made some of the residents laugh nervously. When dinner was over, you excused yourself and went to your room.

You lay on your bed and prayed for sleep, but sleep, unsurprisingly, didn’t come. You turned and turned until you gave up. You sat up with a groan and buried your face in your hands.

Blood, slowly pooling. The two bodies, not moving. Wilhemina’s eyes, widening. A tear rolling down her face, that you caught with your thumb. You couldn’t chase those images from your mind.

It hadn’t been her fault, not really, you told yourself. She would have spared them in the end. You knew it. Without a doubt.

You buried your fingers in your hair, dug your nails into your skull. She would have spared them, for the Wilhemina you knew had come back, if only for a few seconds – and she had been hopeful, and you had been, too.

And you knew you should still be mad, you knew it was too early to forgive her. But you were ready to surrender and fall back into her arms the second she’d want you back. If she ever decided she wanted you back.

There was a whisper, in your head, that assured you she did.

At 11:00pm you gave up on trying to sleep. You got up and went to the music room, hoping someone would be there and would like to talk to help you pass the time. Maybe Coco, for she would make you laugh. Or Mary, for her kindness would soothe you.

There was only one person, and it was Wilhemina. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. You thought it was because of annoyance, or disappointment maybe. Bullshit, your heart told you. She had been the one you had wanted to find.

Wilhemina was sitting in an armchair, her hands resting on the head of her cane, her eyes fixed on the fire. She raised her head when she heard your footsteps, and met your eyes.

“What are you still doing up?” she asked, not unkindly.

“There’s no curfew I know of,” you replied, probably too sharply, but Wilhemina didn’t seem to mind. She nodded, then resumed her staring at the fire.

For a minute you hesitated. Going back to your room was the wisest and safest option. But before you had consciously taken your decision, your feet moved towards Wilhemina. A moth drawn to a flame. Always, when it came to her.

You sat on the armchair opposite the hearth from her. For a long moment there was only silence. The fire crackled lazily and warmed you up.

You glanced up at Wilhemina, only to realize she was staring at you. You quickly lowered your gaze, nervously shifted in your armchair, then glanced at her again.

The expression on her face wasn’t closed, you noticed. There was a wistfulness to it, some sprinkles of curiosity, too. You felt hopeful again.

“So,” you said, assuming a casual tone as if you two were having a friendly conversation in a bar, “what’s your plan in the long run?”

Wilhemina watched you for a few seconds before she answered. Her voice was emotionless. “The Cooperative should contact me soon enough with new instructions.”

That’s not what you had meant. You had meant about her and you. But you let it drop.

“So you’re still following orders, uh?” you taunted. “I thought you were the only boss around here.”

“This is bigger than this outpost,” Wilhemina replied coldly. “This is about building a new, better world, where everyone is at their rightful place according to their worth and abilities.”

“What is my rightful place in this new world, do you think?” You waited, but no answer came.”What is yours?” you tried again. “Let me guess. You are the feared, hated leader. Making sure everyone respects you, making sure everyone survives. Noble work, but it sounds awfully lonely. Wouldn’t you rather fall asleep in somebody’s arms every night?”

Wilhemina’s expression hardened. She kept silent, which surprised you, and averted her eyes from your face to stare at the fire again.

You watched her. You watched the shadows the flames threw on her face. Followed the arch of her brow, the line of her mouth.

Had she done something to her hair, or was it the dim light? It was darker now. She had let you dye it once when you two had been dating. You had frowned at the smell and coughed and splashed the walls with tiny dots of orange. Wilhemina had tried to scold you, but she had burst into laughter instead, her hair piled on top of her head. She had let you wipe the dye splatters from her face and tuck her hair in a shower cap. And while the dye processed, she had sat on the couch reading and you had rested your head on her lap and grinned at her.

Wilhemina cleared her throat, bringing you back to reality.

“What you said earlier, did you really mean it?” she asked in a low voice, still staring at the fire. “Or were you only trying to save the Greys?”

You leaned forward, digging your elbows into your thighs. “I’ll answer that once you’ve answered my own question. Why did you leave me?”

A pause. An annoyed look.

“Because I felt like it,” Wilhemina replied.

Your jaw dropped. “Wow. Because you felt like it?” You shook your head, anger rising in your chest. “I don’t believe you. I’ll ask it again. Why did you leave me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve just told you why. It’s not my fault you’re too proud to accept it.”

“Why did you leave me?” you repeated, clenching your fists.

Wilhemina made an angry noise. She tapped her cane on the floor, then slowly stood up. You jumped on your feet and followed her when she crossed the room and turned right down a corridor.

“Did you wake up one morning and realize you didn’t love me?” you called, as she opened the door to her room. You stepped inside after her. “You’d had your fun, but now it was time to plan the end of the world? Uh? Do you have any idea,” you growled, voice growing louder and angrier, “how it felt to watch you leave without even knowing what I did wrong?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Wilhemina said, voice quavering.

“Then why the fuck did you leave?” you growled, taking one step toward her. “Tell me! For fuck’s sake, I deserve an explanation!”

She couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. She was staring at the floor and her breathing was quickening at it always would when she was trying not to cry. And suddenly you were in the company of the Wilhemina you knew, the one you loved, the one who didn’t think she should be soft and kind but was still willing to try, for you.

“Elijah came to see me,” she answered, so low you barely heard it.

“So what?” you growled. “You fucked him and realized he was your one true love?”

She winced, and you bit your cheek, thinking that maybe you had gone a bit too far. But she deserved it, part of you thought. She had hurt you too badly.

You waited, but she didn’t add anything after that. So, rage beating inside your chest instead of your heart, you strode to her and planted yourself right in front of her, fuming, and she flinched but held her ground.

“Tell me,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why did you leave me?”

She drew in a breath, turned away from you and crossed to her chest of drawers. You were about to yell at her when she opened one of the drawers, closed it again. She crossed back to you and dropped something into your hand.

A lighter. Small and black and plain. You stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“What…?”

Wilhemina had never been good with words. But when you two had been dating, she had been willing to open herself up to you in any way she could. Actions sometimes were easier, she had found.

You glanced up at her, then back down at the lighter in your palm. “I don’t understand,” you said.

Wilhemina had averted her gaze from you again. “I couldn’t pick it up from the floor,” she whispered brokenly.

It didn’t hit you all at once like a revelation. Instead it felt like something spreading inside your head. A bubble. Slowly inflating until it burst.

“What?”

Somehow, it was the only thing you could say.

Wilhemina squared her shoulders, raised her chin, built up her walls. She met your eyes and glared.

“You got what you wanted. Now leave before I feed you to the monsters outside.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but instead you burst into tears.

Your chin dropped to your chest and you sobbed, as Wilhemina stared at you in shock. She extended one hand towards you, hesitated, changed her mind. Her brow pushed up in confusion and concern as she waited for you to calm down, dying to touch and comfort you, but not daring to. She had lost you, after all. She hadn’t been enough.

Some people are just too fucked up to be loved, Elijah had said. She could hear his voice now as if he were saying it again, remembered his exact intonation, the way he had pronounced every syllable.

“It’s alright,” she tried after a little while. “He was right.”

“Who was right?” you sobbed, wiping your eyes.

“Elijah. I did the right thing for you.”

That made you burst into tears again. Except this time, you wrapped your arms around Wilhemina’s waist and pulled her close.

She stiffened against you, but you buried your face in her chest and held her tight and cried and cried at how blind you had been. Your heart broke, but this time it didn’t break for you. It broke for her. For how low her self-esteem was, how she had tried over and over again to be kinder and softer and yet had still been convinced loving her was a burden. Loving her had been the best thing in your whole goddamn life.

Tentatively, Wilhemina slipped one arm around your waist and rested her chin on top of your head.

“I’m gonna bring Elijah back from Hell and kill him,” you mumbled against her chest.

“But he didn’t do anything wrong,” Wilhemina replied. “He was right. All he did was love you so much he only wanted the best for you.”

You shook your head, wailing as Wilhemina brought her free hand up to your head and started stroking your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked. “I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stuttered in your hair. “What for?” she asked, and you couldn’t see her face but you knew what her expression must be like right now, brow pushed up in confusion, eyes wide as she tried to think of something to say or do to help you calm down.

You sobbed against her chest and tightened your grip on her. “I’m so sorry he did this to you and I let him.”

“I don’t –“She paused, hesitated. “I don’t understand,” she breathed after a moment, which only made you cry harder.

You felt her body stiffen again. “No no no, please don’t cry,” she pleaded. Her hand hovered over your head, afraid to touch you now. “I’ll stop talking, I’m sorry, I’m going to shut up. But please don’t cry.”

You clung to her, clutching the back of her dress, wishing that you could… you didn’t really know what. Let her creep inside of you, let her nestle by your heart so the outside world could never hurt her ever again.

When you had calmed down enough to speak, you asked her what Elijah had told her exactly. You wanted to hear every word, so you could erase them from her brain and replace them with words of truth and love.

You had expected her to refuse, to shut down and keep silent. But to your utter surprise, she let out a shaky breath, pressed her cheek against your head, and started to speak.

It was barely a whisper, and at first she paused and hesitated every second or so; but then, words poured out of her, ashamed and painful. You closed your eyes against a fresh wave of tears as you listened.

It didn’t last long. When she was done, her whole body slackened and you tightened your grip on her, afraid she was going to collapse on the floor. She didn’t, though. She nuzzled your hair and sighed.

She hadn’t broken up with you because of you. She had done it for you. Or at least, she had thought so. And it made everything worse, for you had said hurtful things to her. Accused her of things that had never even crossed her mind. Rubbed salt on the wound.

Not your fault, said a voice in your head. You hadn’t known.

After a quiet moment had passed, you took a deep breath and pulled away. Wilhemina let out a faint noise of protest, but you cupped her face and locked eyes with her.

“Have you ever thought that, maybe,” you whispered, offering her a small, teary smile, “I’m the only one who can decide what and who’s enough for me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes widened a bit. You gave her another smile, then let go of her face and looked around the room.

“You said Elijah told you you could never be enough for me and you believed him,” you said, gathering unlit candles in your hands. “I know this kind of thoughts don’t go away easily. I know it takes time and work. But let me show you something.”

You came to a halt in front of Wilhemina and held out the lighter. She glanced at it, then met your eyes, frowning. You leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as you pulled away.

You smiled. “Let’s pretend these candles are my heart. Shush, let me finish. Sit down. Let me show you how you light up my heart.”

You set the first candle down on the bedside table. “Remember the day we met at the supermarket? I was blocking the aisle with my cart and you snapped at me. Told me my ass was too big for this world.” You chuckled softly at the memory. “My life was so boring before that day. I hadn’t realized it, but it lacked challenges, it lacked passion. It’s like my brain was asleep, and with just a few words, you awoke it.”

You flicked the lighter and lit the candle. The flame flickered, then grew. You glanced at Wilhemina, gave her a smile.

“Remember the first time we made love?” Wilhemina’s eyes were riveted on the burning candle. You bit your lower lip, set a second candle on the chest of drawers. “You were so nervous, and you tried to hide it, but Mina, honestly, I can tell you now, you weren’t very successful. You thought you would hurt me or not know how to pleasure me. Remember how many times you made me come that night? You’re a great lover, Mina. And you sure have talent in these fingers and tongue of yours,” you teased. Wilhemina’s eyes, wide and shining, flicked to you. “But do you know what you’re even better at? The way you take care of me after. The way you cannot seem to be able to stay away, how you always snuggle up to me and hold me and ask me if it was good.” You lit up the second candle.

You took a third one, put it on the floor by the door. “Remember my birthday?” you went on. “I’d spent the last one alone. You brought me breakfast in bed, bought me flowers and a cake.”

“I ruined your birthday cake,” Wilhemina whispered sadly.

You shook your head, flicking the lighter again. “But you bought it. For me. To celebrate me.”

You crossed to the other side of the room, set two candles on the vanity. “I don’t know if you’re even aware you did it, but you’d always fluff my pillow when you’d make our bed in the morning. You’d never fluff yours. Only mine.”

Wilhemina let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“It’s only one example of all the things you did that made me feel so loved. Like how you’d always buy pears even though you don’t like the taste of them, just because you knew I do. Or how you read the whole of War and Peace just because I said it’s one of my favorite books. That’s more than a thousand pages, Mina.” Your voice broke as your lips parted on a smile. “You didn’t even think it was that good. But you read the whole thing. Valentine’s Day. You said you hated Valentine’s Day. You bought me flowers and chocolates and tickets for Carmen. Front row center seats, Mina.”

You were crying again by now, but these tears were happy. You set the last candle by the bed. “You made sure I’d survive the Apocalypse. It was you, wasn’t it? I don’t know how you did it, but I’m sure it was you. I used to be mad at you for having saved me but left all my friends and family to die. But you saved me. Gave me another chance at life. Because you still cared about me.”

Wilhemina sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand. You walked around the bed and took her hand.

The whole room was studded with bright, dancing dots of light, as if you had stuck your head into the night sky. Wilhemina’s hand was shaking, but she laced her fingers with yours and gave them a tight squeeze.

“So, you see,” you whispered, “see how bright you make my heart shine.”

A sob pushed out of Wilhemina’s throat. She wrapped her free arm around her waist, hugging herself as she cried. You leaned towards hers, bumping her shoulder with yours. For a while she didn’t move; then she, tentatively, laid her head on your shoulder. And then, as you did not protest, did not push her away, she slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you close.

Her hand cupped your face and her mouth crashed against yours as she sobbed and you sobbed and kissed her fervently back. How you had missed this. How you had missed her. One of your arms wrapped around her shoulders to press her closer still, tongue sliding inside her mouth. You were shaking, entirely too hot and so, so alive.

Something seemed to break loose inside Wilhemina. She let out a noise like a whimper, and suddenly she was crying over and over again “I’m so sorry” and “please” and “don’t go”. You pulled away slightly, cupped her face to make her look at you.

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered. “I forgive you.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief as another sob pushed up her throat. “But what about Mary?” she hiccupped.

You frowned, stroking her cheek. “What about Mary?”

“And what about the two Greys?” she went on, voice growing frantic and breathless. “What about the rules? I’ll hurt you again, I’ll hold you back, I’m too fucked up –“

“None of that,” you shushed her gently.

“But I –“

“No.” A kiss on her mouth, slow and sweet, meant to reassure. You tugged softly at her lip, and she moaned, dug her fingers into your skin. She let out a breath that went all the way down into your lungs, and sank into you.

After a moment, she rested her cheek on your shoulder and opened her eyes to look at all the lighted candles. You held her, stroking the nape of her neck, rubbing circles on her back.

The candles were burning. They lit up the room.

Tag list: @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @coxmicbabygirl

#does reader forgive wilhemina too quickly in that one?#yes #but i want to give w all the love and no one but god can stop me #ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #fics

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secndlife · 3 years

Text

[5:47pm]

"Do you want me to bring you anything?” You asked Soonyoung, phone glued to your ear, while grabbing a pack of rice from the shelf. You spent the afternoon running some errands, groceries being the last one of your tasks.

He thought about it for a second, “Kimchi?” Of course.

“I already ordered it from that small shop you like,” you informed him, eyes scanning your cart to check if you had all you needed.

“Oh, okay! I’ll pick it up to—ouch!” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. What was he doing?

“Stop moving and it won’t hurt!” You heard someone say in the background.

No. Not someone. Krys. Your chest automatically moved as you sighed. Soonyoung and Krys unsupervised never meant anything good. You stopped walking, standing still by the grain section.

“Soonyoung?” You asked, voice gentle. He hummed in response. “What is Krys doing there?” You had no idea what could she possibly be doing there on a Saturday evening. Weekends were, as she liked to call, Seokmin days. So when you heard her voice echoing through your apartment, your senses tingled.

Someone almost bumped at you, making it pretty clear you were in the way. You gave the young man an apologetic look, trying to focus now on whatever excuse Soonyoung was about to offer. “Nothing?” He sounded unsure. Shy, even. Like a child that’s about to get busted.

You rubbed your temples, “Krys is never doing nothing. Especially with you.” They were partners in crime.

“You’ll see when you get home?” Uncertainty, again.

Another long breath escaped you. “Can you just please don’t get slime on the ceiling like that one time?”

He laughed and you felt almost calm. Almost. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Should I be concerned?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Will you not be concerned if I tell you there’s no reason to be concerned?”

Krys snorted in the background, “Of course she won’t. She doesn’t trust us!”

Your eyes went to the back of your head, “Hey! Can she hear me? If not, tell her to shut up.”

He ignored your banter, “Will you?”

You really wanted to say yes. No one would believe you, though. “No.”

Your boyfriend giggled, “Then be concerned and when you come home you’ll see it’s not a big deal and relax.”

“Just—”

“It’s not slime, and we won’t break anything, ok? Finish doing the groceries, and we’ll see you soon.”

You bit the insides of your cheek, “Do you promise there’s no sli—”

“Love you, bye.”

And then he hung up. Just like that. Plain and simple. You sighed dramatically, staring at the various types of rice in front of you, trying to come up with a scenario where the two of them are alone and doing something that wouldn’t end up in someone getting hurt or in a mess you’d have to fix. Nothing. You guessed you’d just have to go home and see with your own eyes.

The drive from the market to your apartment seemed long. Too long. You probably shouldn’t be this worried. Whatever the two of them were doing was most likely fixable. You’d just have to put on the big girl pants and manage it, like always.

It was just that they were one and the same. Both too impulsive, too often. You loved them despite and because of it. But it was also something that could give you massive headaches whenever they were left alone together.

When you put your keys in the lock, you let out one last breath before you were actually ready to face whatever was expecting you. As you moved the bags inside, you heard footsteps approaching you.

“Hi, bestie.” Krys said, with a sneaky smile across her lips.

You raised an eyebrow at her while closing the door behind you. “What did you do to my boyfriend this time?”

The woman huffed, “Can you stop acting as if I’m some sort of mastermind behind evil plans?”

“Aren’t you?” You said, walking inside, eyes quickly moving through the place in the hopes of finding Soonyoung and whatever mess they had made.

She chased after you, a hand reaching for your arm. “Am not. He is equally involved in everything.” You got confused by her grip, but didn’t really say anything, simply allowing her to drag you further into the living room. “Sit.”

“What for? Where is Soonyoung?” You were feeling agitated.

She somewhat managed to make you follow her orders, legs hitting the comfortable fabric of your couch. “Can you wait, please?”

You shook your head, “No. I want to know what you did.”

Krys rolled her eyes, “For the record, this was his idea. And stop being dramatic, you will actually thank me this time.”

“I doubt it,” you said with a laugh.

She ignored it, confidence very clear in her tone. “Close your eyes, I’ll go get your furry boyfriend.”

“He’s not a furry!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She stood there, facing you, waiting for you to do as you had been told. “C’mon, close them. Otherwise, I won’t bring the furry.”

It was your turn to huff, “Stop calling him that!” When you realized she wouldn’t bulge, you placed your hands over your eyes. “Fine.”

Krys smiled, triumphantly, “You’ll love this.” You could hear her walking away and, for some reason, your heart started beating faster.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” You heard Soonyoung ask her not long after. You guessed that wasn’t for you to hear, but he had never done a good job when it came to concealing words, anyway.

You figured she reassured him some other way as you didn’t hear her voice until she spoke to you again. “Okay, as much as I want to see your reaction, furry guy is too excited, so I think I’ll let you two enjoy this moment alone.”

“Did you buy him a tiger suit? Because if you did I swear—”

“I’ll wait for your thank you text.” You heard something that sounded like hands clapping, guessing they had just high-fived each other. Idiots. “Go get her.”

Not long after, you heard the door closing once again, taking that as your cue. “Soo? Can I—”

“No!” He said, perhaps a bit too loud, before you could move your hands.

“What’s going on?” You whined. “I’m getting worried.”

The man chuckled, “Getting?”

“Please, let me look.” You were practically begging now. A thousand scenarios had crossed your mind already, and you were going crazy at this point because you couldn’t really think of anything besides Krys buying him a goddamn tiger suit.

Soonyoung let out a breath in an attempt to ease his nervousness. This wasn’t that big of a deal. He was sure you’d love him anyway. Still, he really, really hoped you’d like it. He whispered, “You can look now.”

Your boyfriend had barely finished speaking when you started uncovering your eyes. You were met with something you weren’t expecting. He was smiling. Big. He looked different, too. It was almost as if your heart had skipped a beat. Words were failing you, so you struggled to manage mumbling something cohesive. “Oh!”

“Is it bad?” He pouted.

“What? No!” You said, truthfully. You then stood up, standing in front of him. “I guess I just thought it’d be something else.”

He chuckled, “You think too low of Krys and I.”

“I have my reasons.” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You look amazing. Like, really fucking good.”

He was blond.

Could that even be considered blond? It was actually more leaning towards white and, if you looked at it close enough, there were subtle hints of purple on the background tone. Apparently, Krys came not long after you left earlier, bringing the necessary equipment to support Soonyoung in his newest decision. She always had his back. He said she bleached it and styled it before you came home, being well aware of how weak you were for side parted hair, and a couple of strands falling over his eyes Soonyoung.

“Do you like it?” He sounded timid. Almost as if he was too scared to ask. He was always the confident one. Still, when it came to you, Soonyoung was often like an insecure teenager that wanted nothing more but to impress his crush.

You nodded, “I love it.” You weren’t a big fan of blond men, always being the one to go for dark haired ones. Still, much like with many other things, Soonyoung was a decisive and welcoming change of opinion. You wrapped your arms around his neck while his went instinctively to one of the places he called home - your waist.

When you didn’t say anything for a bit, he took his chance to tease. “I see it made you speechless.”

You smiled, “It just kinda reminds me of the first picture I saw of you.”

Seeing Soonyoung with the same hairstyle he had when you were first introduced to his remarkable features, even if only through an Instagram post, gave you butterflies. It took you back to when you barely even knew who he was. To when you were, unknowingly, falling for his eyes for the first time. It felt new and, at the same time, familiar.

You took some time to just admire him. To take in how good he looked. To allow him to read, in your eyes, how much you loved him. To let your heart go back to its usual rhythm. To understand that, now, this was a different Soonyoung than the one you first saw on Doki’s phone. That this Soonyoung was as in love with you as you were with him. That this Soonyoung was as yours as you were his.

“I didn’t look this hot back then.” He said, lips curving in a smug smirk.

You laughed, “You definitely didn’t. I don’t know how, but you manage to look better and better every day.” Your fingers danced against the hair on his nape. “This just makes you even hotter.”

He pulled you closer, welcoming the sudden ego boost. “Hot enough for you to let me fuck you right here, right now?”

You stared into his eyes and felt something twist inside you. He raised his eyebrows as if he was waiting for a confirmation he could push you up against a wall and make you moan his name within minutes.

You smiled his favorite smile, face already mere millimeters away from his. “Yeah.”

While you were lost in his kisses and moans and bites, your phone was buzzing by your pocket.

[5:47pm] Krys: you’re only excused from not texting me thank you if you’re fucking your newly blond boyfriend :)

a/n: yes this is another mmf!soonyoung thing. am i still obsessed with this universe? yes. am i planning/writing another long ass fic about it? yes. will i post small drabbles that fit between the timeline for mmf 1 and 2 while i work on part 2? probably. anyway! when he first showed up blond recently i almost died bc i’m such a black haired supremacist and he was looking SO GOOD with the previous hair i was kinda bitter. but. now. you know. he knocked me down. he did that. he is so sexy. blond/white soonyoung is so sexy. so yeah! no explanation, just sexy blondish soonyoung. also, for the sake of writing, let’s pretend you can actually go from black to his current haircolor in a day without going bald. as usual,my askbox is always open even tho i now apparently suck at answering asks. sorry about that. I WILL WORK ON IT !!! yeah so! i hope you’ll enjoy it mwah

#hoshi #soonyoung #seventeen #svt #hoshi scenario #soonyoung scenario #seventeen scenario #hoshi fic #soonyoung fic #seventeen fic #seventeen imagine #hoshi imagine #soonyoung imagine #seventeen timestamps #hoshi fluff #seventeen fluff #soonyoung fluff

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icerosecrystal · 3 years

Text

Marijon - My Secret Older Sister

Her name is Marinette Amani Al-Ghul. Marinette is the first grandchild of the demon-head and the daughter of Talia Al-Ghul. She is also the older sister of Damian Al-Ghul by two years. Despite what others may think, both she and her brother came from the same man. Bruce Wayne. Although Damian has no idea who his father is, Marinette has known for eight years. Despite the young age of 12, she was an incredibly smart girl. She also possessed the ability to be happy and feel love. But not in front of anyone but her brother and sometimes her mother. She and her brother had a great relationship. They were always there for each other. Damian was there for Marinette when her grandfather Ra's would sometimes beat her for not doing well on a mission. And he would base it solely on her gender. Marinette was there for Damian the first time Damian had to kill someone. It disgusted him, but he continued doing it for the sake of his title.

Then the day the League fell came. Slade had attacked when Ra's was showing the whole League to Damian and explaining that it would all one day be his. Marinette was standing behind them next to her mother. Ra's had told her mother to grab both of them and run. Marinette protected her brother throughout it all when suddenly, Marinette got shot in the stomach. She collapsed in pain. She saw her mother running back to them, so Marinette let go of Damian, who was looking at her worriedly, "Damian, my akhi, go run, save yourself. Tell Mother to take you to Father. I'll be fine."

Damian was crying now, "NO, I won't leave you, you have to come with me. Please don't leave me, ukhti."

Marinette smiled sadly. She then hugged Damian and kissed him on the cheek, "I love you. And I promise I will find you one day." She let go of his hand as Talia quickly grabbed his arm and lead him to the docks, glancing at Marinette once in worry.

Marinette was lying still for a little bit before she heard a voice say, "Tom, I found her!" Marinette turned her head to the side and saw her godmother, Sabine Cheng recently Dupain-Cheng, hurrying over to her, with her godfather Tom not too far behind.

When they reached her, they gasped at the wound in her stomach. Tom picked her up and quickly walked to the docks with Sabine following. "Where we going?" Marinette said her voiced slurring, herself only half-conscious due to the blood loss.

Sabine answered, "We're going to Paris. We had a house there just in case we ever had to escape the League."

Marinette nodded in turn before she closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion take over. "Good night," she heard before she was fully asleep.

Marinette woke up to an unfamiliar scene. She tensed, but when she caught sight of her godparents, she relaxed, "So what's the plan?"

Sabine was the one who answered", Well, you aren't allowed to act like the devil in disguise." Marinette scoffed, but she didn't argue, knowing Sabine was right. She may be sweet with her family, but with strangers and acquaintances, she wasn't the nicest. "Also, you are going to be Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You are the daughter of two bakers, Tom and I, and you are a designer. You will also be clumsy and stutter a lot."

Marinette nodded in understanding, "Okay, but what about Damian?"

Sabine sighed, "You're just going to have to hope that one day you find each other again."

Marinette nodded in understanding. She then went up to her new room, ready to put on a mask for the rest of the world to see.

(Time Skip)

It was now the start of the tenth grade for Marinette. She was now thirteen-years-old, and she was ready to play her part of the clumsy baker's daughter. She took some macaroons for her new classmates and then walked outside. While she waited to cross the street, she caught sight of a man crossing the street. A car was heading right to him. Regardless of who she was pretending to be, she wasn't going to let a man get hurt. She ran and quickly pulled him to the sidewalk, effectively using it as an excuse to trip over her feet. She handed the man a macaroon and then ran to school.

At school, she sat down quietly in her seat. When a dark girl, with brown hair and auburn highlights, picked a fight with a blonde girl. The blonde girl was supposedly bullying Marinette. Marinette and the blonde girl exchanged looks, acknowledging that the girl before them was a load of bull. Marinette then found out that the blonde girl's name was Chloe, and she was a bully, and the other girl was Alya.

Marinette looked around the classroom, analyzing everybody.

She then heard a voice scream, "Kim!"

She looked behind her to see a big, burly blonde kid, look like he wanted to beat up somebody. The teacher then asked him, "Ivan, what is going on?"

The blonde kid replied, "It's Kim! I'm so going to get..."

The teacher then pointed to the door and shouted, "Ivan, go to the principal's office."

Before Ivan could stomp off angrily, Marinette spoke up, quite surprised by the way the teacher was handling things, "With all due respect Miss, you didn't even listen to Ivan's side of the story. It could be Kim that's bullying Ivan, but you're rather playing favoritism."

The teacher sputtered, not knowing how to react, "Who gave you the authority to question my teaching skills?"

Marinette smirked, replying, " Common sense."

Mrs. Bustier walked out of the classroom to calm down, pure fury clear on her face. That day she turned into Zombispect. When she kissed them, they would automatically obey and respect her. That was also the day Lady Spots and Chat Noir resided in Paris.

While Lady Spots was a great superhero, Chat Noir was an incompetent fool. Marinette hated him. He would always flirt with her and never get anything done. And in many cases, if he didn't get what he wanted, he would either threaten to quit or sit out. Marinette never told him, but she honestly thought that she did better in battle when he wasn't around.

In terms of her civilian life, Alya convinced herself that she was Marinette's best friend and that Marinette had a crush on Adrien. In actuality, Marinette's best friend was and is her brother, Damian, and Chloe. While Chloe was spoiled, she was also neglected by her parents, which made her act rather bitchy at times. And she for sure did not have a crush on the spineless Adrien Agreste. No one in the class knew anything about the real her. But her godparents and even Chloe, who knew a bit about her. But, the one person that Marinette wanted to talk to was her precious little brother. She needed to hug him, spoil him, and talk with him about everything. But most of all, she wanted to know that he was still alive and happy somewhere.

Marinette would cry herself to bed every day, hoping that one day she would see him again. Thankfully, Tikki was on her side.

(Time Skip of one year. This is after Volpina, but before Chameleon)

It has been two years since Marinette last saw her brother. Alya was still going strong, coming up with ridiculous plans for her to date Adrien. She was still a "clumsy" baker girl. And while designing was her supposed hobby, after about a month, she really got into it. What pissed Marinette off the most was that she had to wear pink, have her room pink, and wear pigtails. Why? Because it strengthened the fact that she was an innocent, little, naive girl. While it did help people underestimate her, it annoyed the heck out of her. She actually ranted to her godparents one day about how bad her appearance was, "How can one color be so bright?! How could anyone like looking at it?! Why the hell do these pigtails make me look like a short-ass baby?! I look like a fucking moron! Where the hell is Damian when you need him?!" It was about three days later when her question was answered.

Marinette had been walking around town when suddenly someone bumped into Marinette. Marinette caught herself and caught the person she bumped into. But the words that came out of the person's mouth had her reeling, "Tt, what type of imbecile are you to be bumping into people on the street?" Marinette would know that voice anywhere. And sure enough, when she actually looked at the person that she bumped into, she was staring into the face of her brother. When he realized who she was, he let out a timid, "Marinette," that had Marinette practically sobbing.

When she found that her face was wet, she realized that she was sobbing, but she didn't care. Damian was alive. She strangled him with a hug, cooing softly into his ear once he too started crying. They stayed like that for a while before they released each other. It was then that Marinette saw the boy standing behind Damian.

She blushed when she noticed his features, black hair like her own, the bluest, purest eyes she had ever seen. He was wearing glasses that gave him a nerdy look, but his body begged to differ. He was very tall, probably 5ft 11, and had huge muscles that gave off more of a jock look. He had so many characteristics that Marinette felt insanely attracted. She snapped out of her thoughts and offered the boy a hand, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or Marinette Al-Ghul, Damien's older sister by two years."

He gave her a blinding smile that could rival the sun and then kissed her hand, "Jonathan Kent, Jon for short. It's nice to meet the sister of my best friend." The more she studied him, the more she realized that he looked familiar. It was then that she realized he was Superboy, the superhero Alya had been raving about last week.

Marinette blushed at him kissing her hand. She then decided to let her inner devil come out to play. Leaning closer, she whispered, "It's nice to meet you too. I hope that you have been nice to my brother. Because if I found out you haven't, I might get my katana and skin you. I know that you might be invincible, but with the kryptonite, which I do have, you would be weakened within a second. So make your decisions carefully." She then leaned back and watched how his expression changed. His face went from happy, to confused, to shocked, to scared, and the surprisingly, love.

He smirked, "Well, you are better than I expected." He then pulled out a piece of paper and wrote his phone number. "Call me, you're hot and a little devil, I like it." He then winked and gave it to her.

They both heard Damian scream, "KENT! Stay away from my sister before I skin you!"

Marinette giggled and took the piece of paper from him. She then asked, "You look to be about my age. Why are you with Damian?"

Jon replied, "I'm 15-years-old. So one year older than you. (I know that Jon is actually three years younger in Super Sons, but for this to work, Jon is three older, not younger. If you have any problems with that, fight me.) And Damian and I work together a lot. We're considered the Super Sons, so we're best friends."

Marinette nodded in understanding before suggesting that they all go to a coffee shop to talk. Damian and Jon agreed. Damian told Marinette all about their father, their brothers, and sisters, him being Robin. He told her everything. She offered him support and asked questions about their family.

When it was her turn, she explained how Tom and Sabine saved her and how she came to Paris. And how she is pretending to be a clumsy sweet girl who likes pink. (She wasn't totally over the whole pink thing along with the pigtails.) That coaxed a laugh out of both Damian and Jon. But when she got to the part about Alya, Damian wanted to skin Alya. He was Marinette's best friend, not some dumb harlot. When she explained how she was Lady Spots, and Chat Noir had some major failings as a partner, it took both Jon and Marinette to hold him back. He continued trying to escape while shouting, "LET ME AT HIM, HE DARE FLIRT WITH MY SISTER!!! I'LL SKIN HIS SORRY ASS BEFORE RIPPING HIM INTO SHREDS AND DUMPING HIM IN A RIVER!" He then continued to explain exactly how he would kill Chat Noir. Marinette knew that he was capable of going through with his plan, so she distracted him by asking for his phone number so that they could stay in contact. Damian calmed down enough to give it to her.

When she realized how late it was, she gave a hug and promised to meet up with him for the rest of the week. She also promised that once he left Paris, she would stay in contact. She wasn't going to leave her brother again. She then went up to Jon and kissed his cheek before saying goodbye. She then turned around and went home. If she had stayed a second longer, she would have seen Jon blush and then touch the cheek that she kissed with his fingertips, a goofy smile adorning his lips. Although Damian wanted to keep Jon away from his sister, he supposed Jon was better than the mangy cat or the spineless model.

For the rest of the week, the three met up every day and did different activities. One day they went to the Lourve, another an arcade, the day after that a carnival, and so on. On their last day, they went to the park and then went for Andre's ice cream. When they arrived, Andre greeted Marinette, "Bonjour Marinette! Would you like a sweetheart ice cream."

"Oui Andre. This is my brother Damian, and his friend Jon." She then turned to the boys, "Andre is the sweetheart's ice cream maker. He essentially gives you icecream based on the characteristics of your soul mate. Damian, how about you go first."

Damian stepped in front of the cart, "Ah, Damian, one scoop of violet and honey for her eyes, coconut ash for her hair, and cherry for her mysterious and complicated past. Here you are." (There is actually such a thing as black ice cream. It's made with coconut ash that people sometimes flavor with burnt honey vanilla.)

Damian took the ice cream and looked at it. He then realized that it looked like Raven, his crush. He blushed. "Ah, I see the love fair and true. I suppose you know who is right for you?" Damian nodded and started eating his ice cream, a small smile gracing his lips. He then paid attention to his sister and his best friend. They were now getting their ice cream.

Andre looked at the two and said, "Ah, but here's the truth, the two of you are the right match. You complete each other just like one, so come, let Andre supply you with love." Marinette and Jon were both surprised by the turn of events. But they both just blushed and agreed. Andre then said, "Blueberry for both your eyes, strawberry for her lips, cherry for his secret, and cotton candy for your personalities. Enjoy!"

Jon and Marinette waved goodbye and then ate their ice cream. They were still surprised about the turn of events. Neither knew what to say to the other until picked up some courage and asked, "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Marinette was surprised but agreed. They shared a chaste kiss. They then heard Damian gagging in the background. They broke apart, and Jon raised an eyebrow, "You're one to talk. I saw your ice cream. It really represented, mmph." Damian covered Jon's mouth before he could blurt out the name of his sweetheart.

"Kent looks like it's time to go! By the way, if you hurt my sister, I won't hesitate to kill you." He then dragged Jon off, leaving Marinette to chuckle to herself. The next day, she said goodbye to Damian and Jon. She gave them both a quick hug along with an extra kiss for Jon. She was so happy that she had found her brother again.

(Time Skip of three years)

It has been three years since Marinette bumped into Damian and Jon in Paris. The two visited whenever they could, the same with Marinette. But they never told their families. Marinette didn't tell her family because they didn't know she was Ladybug. Damian didn't tell because he wanted his sister to himself. Jon didn't tell because the other two didn't. Jon's and Marinette's relationship was still going strong. They loved each other very much. Jon loved how playful and happy Marinette could be, but she wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone. She was his little devil. Marinette loved Jon because of how pure and sunshiny he was. She loved how he cared for her and was always there for her no matter what. Damian actually started a relationship with Rachel Roth otherwise known as Raven as Andre's ice cream had indicated all those years ago.

During the three years, many things had changed, though. A girl named Lila came and turned everyone against her except Chloe. Marinette pretended that she was sad, but really she was ecstatic that she didn't have to hang out with morons anymore. She found Lila quite pathetic. Lila let others do her dirty work for her. She hid behind lies and morons. Marinette never found her as a threat.

She also defeated Hawkmoth a year ago, but it was because he surrendered. So, she didn't take him to jail, she made him donate thousands of dollars to people who needed therapy from the akumas and do community service. He agreed, so she let him go. She was glad that Gabriel Agreste had learned his lesson.

Yeah, for the most part, everything was going fine, she wasn't stuck with morons, and she had her brother and boyfriend. Until her brother and significant idiot forgot that her bio family didn't know about her.

It was the end of another shitty day for Marinette. She collapsed on her chaise. She looked at the time and realized that it was time for her's and Damian's video calls. She groaned before getting up and getting her phone. She dialed his number before waiting for him to pick up. Once he did, she saw that Jon was with him. They all talked together animatedly. What Damian and Jon forgot to do, was make sure that the Bat-family didn't come back from patrol while they were still on the call. But naturally, the two idiots forgot.

So, two hours later, when the three were still talking, they didn't realize when Jason came into the room. They only did when Jason screamed, "Demon Spawn and Supes Junior are talking to a girl on the phone!" This alerted the rest of the Waynes, so they all ran into Damian's room. When they entered, they were met with quite a sight. A confused Jason was watching a small pixie-like girl screaming at Jon and Damian in what seemed to be Arabic, Urdu, Russian, English, French, Spanish, Romanian, and Greek.

Once she calmed down, although she was still glaring at the two boys, she introduced herself, "Hi, my name is Marinette."

Dick asked her, "What's your last name?"

Marinette replied, "It depends on who your asking. Here in France, I would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng. In the league, I would be Marinette Al-Ghul. But, my real name would most likely be Marinette Wayne."

Jason yelled, "Your married to Demon Spawn!"

Marinette scowled, "No, Tt, are you always this incompetent? I am Damian's older sister by two years. I am also Jon's girlfriend of three years."

Bruce took a deep breath and pinched his nose, "And the reason none of you said anything was because?" He looked directly at Damian when asking the question.

Damian snapped, "I didn't want to share my beloved sister. She is too good for you imbeciles. She is also too good for Kent. But Kent is better than the mangy cat or the ugly model."

Everyone looked at Marinette confused except for Damian and Jon. She quickly shook her head, "Don't ask. If you want to ask me some questions, I'll be there in a minute."

Damian realizing that she was going to use the horse miraculous to transport to Gotham quickly said, "Wait, no, don't!" But she had already ended the call making Damian curse in Arabic.

Seconds later a portal appeared and a girl stepped out. She then spoke, "Kaalki, dismount." A flash appeared around her and they then saw the same girl on the phone now in front of them.

This left Wayne's gaping, while Alfred asked, "Mistress Marinette, would Kaalki I assume, need anything?"

Marinette replied, "Oui, she prefers sugar cubes to recharge. Merci, Alfred."

Then Jon got up and shouted, "My little devil!"

"Sunshine", Marinette exclaimed in joy before kissing him with full force. He kissed her back passionately. She placed her arm on his shoulders while he held her waist and lifted her a little off the ground. After a little bit, there was an awkward cough that reminded them that there were others in the room. They gave each other one more peck, before reluctantly pulling away. Although, Jon's arm was still around her waist. Marinette tried to not focus on the aching in her chest that was telling her to pounce on Jon and smother him in love and kisses while he did the same to her.

Marinette sighed and tried to focus on the situation at hand, "It's nice to meet all of you. My name is Marinette Al-Ghul Wayne, and I am Damian's sister as mentioned."

They all stared at her strangely until Tim asked, "Are you sure you grew up with Damian, or that your mother is Talia Al-Ghul? You seem a lot more different from Demon Spawn."

She smirked at them viciously, "First of all, I am for sure Damian's biological sister. Second of all, I may seem like an angel, but I'm the devil in disguise, hence Jon's nickname for me. Third of all, I'm not as arrogant as Damian because Ra's was always abusing me since I was a girl. So, I am a lot worse than Damian, I just don't show it."

No one knew what to do with this information. Sure Damian already knew about the beatings, but no one else did. They stared at her in worry, but she just waved them off, "Don't worry about me. Ra's is dead, I'm living with my godparents, and I'm happy."

Damian then rose an eyebrow, "What about your moronic classmates?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you. This pathetic girl who threatened to take my friends away, made it so that no one talks to me anymore. So, yay! Oooh, also I should probably explain my life to you?" She then went on to talk about everything, how her life was at the league, what happened when Slade attacked, her life in Paris and when she became Lady Spots, how she met Damian and Jon, what happened after that.

By the end of her story, everyone looked like they wanted to kill her classmates and Chat Noir. Well, almost everyone. Bruce was on the ground muttering to himself, "Why, why, why? I just wanted one of my kids to not be a superhero. Is that too much to ask for?"

While Bruce had his breakdown, Tim asked her, "Did you defeat Hawkmoth?"

"Yeah, I did. He surrendered, so I let him off with some requirements in place. I actually was thinking of doing something to expose Lila. As much as I hate the morons, their future will be horrible if they keep on listening to that pathetic bitch."

Damian looked at her curiously, "What were you thinking?

"You are going to invite my class to the Wayne Gala. There we are going to introduce the whole family, including me. Damian, you are going to bring Raven. I'll bring Jon obviously. If we disprove that she knows the Waynes, the rest of her lies will come crashing down." Everyone smiled obviously pleased with the idea.

So they spent the next month getting the gala together. They organized a contest that Bustier's class won. During the month, the Waynes got to know Marinette. While Damian did have a problem with sharing her, everyone still go to know her. They were officially scared of her after she won after sparing against everyone and then cussing at Damian in many languages. It made Jon fall more in love with her though.

Another problem was that the Waynes would walk into Jon's and Marinette's make-out sessions all the time. Once, Jon, had Marinette pushed up against a wall and he was kissing her passionately. Marinette had her hands in his hair, one of them playing with the ends of his hair. She had taken off his shirt and was kissing down his neck. Jon had groaned and had stopped her so he could kiss her neck as well making her moan in want. He was whispering about what he wanted to do with her at the same time. Through dazed eyes, Marinette looked up and finally saw her family looking at her, both Damian and Bruce had their jaws clenched. When Jon noticed them, he quickly let go of her. Dick, Jason, and Tim started laughing, cooing, and teasing them, making Marinette hide her head in his chest. This made Damian launch himself at Jon, but before he could, Marinette had already disarmed him. She screamed, "Don't hurt my boyfriend, Damian." He just huffed, but let it go. From then on, they made sure to lock the door.

It was finally the day of the gala. Marinette saw all of her classmates. They mostly looked nice, but Lila was wearing an incredibly revealing dress.

It was then time for the reveal. Bruce went up to the stage and announced, "Good evening, everybody. I am pleased that you could all attend. Today, I would like to introduce all of my children along with their significant other. To start, my oldest son Richard Grayson, also known as Dick Grayson along with his wife Kori Grayson."

(Bruce's suit)

(Dick's Suit)

(Kori's Dress)

"My son Jason Todd."

(Jason's suit)

"My son Tim Drake."

(Tim's suit)

"My son Damian Wayne with his girlfriend Rachel Roth."

(Damien's suit)

(Rachel's dress)

"Finally, my new found daughter, also Damian's biological older sister Marinette Wayne. With her date Jon Kent."

(Marinette's dress)

(Jon's suit)

When her classmates saw Marinette they started screaming insults. She just raised an eyebrow at them, "Is there a problem?"

Alya yelled, "Yeah there is. You're not a Wayne, you never told me that you were."

Marinette replied, "We were never best friends so I was under no obligation to tell you anything. I am a Wayne. I just lived with my godparents in Paris until my dad found out about me. I am dating my handsome boyfriend, Jonathan Kent. I have given you so much proof. How about you question Lila. She claimed that she was dating Damian. Damian is two years younger than her and he is dating Rachel. She isn't close to the Waynes, I am. So, stop questioning me and question her."

Everyone looked at Lila, but she was incredibly pale. That showed everyone that she was lying. They started yelling at her. Bruce then spoke up, "Security, escort this class out of the gala." As security did so, no one stopped yelling at Lila.

Marinette and Jon then turned to the reporters and Marinette said, "Five questions go."

She pointed to one reporter, "Where do you live?"

"Paris like I mentioned earlier."

She pointed to another, "How old are you?"

"I am 17-years-old, almost 18."

She pointed to a third one, "Were you surprised about being a Wayne?"

"No, I knew that I was a Wayne my whole life. But I was sent to my godparents instead of my dad like Damian. But I still knew." She pointed to her family, "They were surprised about my existence."

She pointed to a fourth reporter, "How do you like being a Wayne?"

"I really enjoy it. They are so nice to me. I really cherish them and we all have a lot of fun together. "

She pointed to a final reporter, "Do you like being Jonathan Kent's girlfriend and how did you meet?"

"We met when I bumped into him and my brother in Paris. We spent the week together. We got this thing called sweethearts ice cream. The ice cream tells you who your soulmate is. The guy who runs it Andre said that we were meant to be together. Jon asked me to be his girlfriend after. We have been a couple for three years. I love Jon a lot. He's really sweet and considerate. I wouldn't trade him for the world." Everyone awed.

Jon then picked her up bridal style, "Now that this is over, we'll be going home to have some fun." He winked at everyone.

Marinette blushed at the implications, "JON!" But, Jon silenced her with a passionate kiss, carrying her off the stage.

As Marinette kissed him back, she felt so happy. She had a loving family and boyfriend. They accepted her and cherished her.

She didn't know that the league was going to be attacked, but it helped her grow as a person and escape abuse. She didn't know that she would get a boyfriend. She didn't know she would ever meet her little brother ever again or meet her family. She didn't know what the future had in store for her. But she did know that she was going to spend it with her boyfriend and her family, and nothing was going to stop her.

(Sorry for the pictures smack in the middle of everything!)

#mlb x dc #maribat #miraculous ladybug #jonette #jonmari #jon x marinette #marinette x jon #marinette al ghul #marinette dupain cheng #jonathan kent #damian wayne #batfam #marinette is damian's older sister #league of assassins #dc #marijon

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taexual · 4 years

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (19)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: suggestive themes, some angst

words: 7.7k

chapter nineteen

You expected Jungkook to skip class the next Monday morning because neither of you had gotten enough proper sleep this weekend, but, surprising you, he was standing outside of your dormitory even though it was barely light outside, holding two coffees in his hands, and smiling.

Squinting at him suspiciously, you waited for an explanation why he looked so excited to be awake at seven in the morning – not to mention, why he got up early to get you and him coffee, and then showed up at your dormitory in time to catch you leave.

“I just wanted to go to class together with my girlfriend,” Jungkook said simply enough, emphasizing the last word.

“You’re lying,” you said, still watching him intently but accepting his coffee nevertheless. You almost considered yourself overly paranoid as soon as you took a sip of the blissful beverage, but Jungkook’s smile widened.

“Okay, fine,” he said, unable to hold it in much longer. “Yoongi told me something last night and I’d been looking forward to talking to you about it, so I’m still on a high.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No—listen. We got an out-of-town gig,” he said, his eyes glittering so bright, some of the street lamps nearby flickered awkwardly, intimidated. “It’s the first one. Apparently, the manager of some club or event hall—I don’t know—was visiting a relative on campus this Friday, and they saw us play. It’s next weekend. I want you to come with me.”

“Tha—that’s great, wow. I’m proud of you,” you said and you did mean it but, at the same time, you felt worried.

Jungkook had abandoned Parental Advisory right before the encore last Friday. What if some inane force got into his head and made him ditch the show again? He was obviously still not used to the consequences of his actions since, most of the time, he miraculously came out of every mess alive.

“You’re all very excited, I don’t doubt,” you said, choosing your words carefully, “but, uh… are you sure about this?”

You could see some of the initial joy fade away from his face after your question, and your mind immediately awarded you with a mental kick.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, last Friday—” you tried but Jungkook cut in as if he’d guessed that this was going to be the direction in which your conversation turned.

“No, don’t,” he said hurriedly, not wanting you to say another word about how much frustration he’d caused his bandmates. “We’re fine. We’re family, we don’t fight long.”

You nodded empathetically – or so you hoped – and tried again, “I was just saying that you—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off again, still smiling patiently even though his voice was inching closer to the edge with each hesitant word that came out of your mouth. “You’ll be there with me. I’ll be fine.”

The confidence in his tone was infectious, however.

He said he’d be fine. You weren’t going to insist and make him doubt himself, not when he was voicelessly asking you to trust him.

“I hadn’t technically said yes,” you pointed out instead, more to tease him than anything else.

Jungkook replied, tongue-in-cheek, “I asked as a courtesy. I’m kidnapping you if you don’t agree to come with me.”

Relieved that the tension seemed to dissipate after you decided not to shove your worries on him and maybe even push them away from your own shoulders, too, the two of you started to walk towards the building where your class was going to take place.

“You always take my choices away from me,” you told him, a playful smile still on your lips. “Let me make a decision.”

Jungkook nearly froze, feeling the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. He saw your face and could recognize that you were just playing around, not really trying to tell him that you were offended, but your words, joking or not, still hit a painful, throbbing spot inside of his mind.

He was using your feelings for him to get you to do what he wanted. He was doing it again. Even despite his mother’s concerns about his influence on you seven years ago. Even despite you both being adults now.

“I wasn’t—I… I just didn’t want you to make the wrong choice,” he said, browsing through dozens of lame excuses and choosing the one that made him sound the least like an asshole.

You knew he wasn’t an asshole. That was why you didn’t get upset when he told you that you were coming before you got a chance to accept his offer.

Still, wanting him to open up and explain what was going on inside of his head, you wondered aloud, “what’s the wrong choice here? Me, not going with you?”

“Yes,” Jungkook answered, not hesitating but looking down at the gravel underneath his boots, “I need you there with me,” that didn’t sound right. He corrected himself with an awkward chuckle – as if to reduce the strength of his next words, “I always need you with me. That’s why I didn’t wait for you to—”

“Well, say it like that, then,” you asked in a voice that was almost as impatient as your heart, who’d suddenly decided it wanted to leap out of your chest and take a walk around campus. “I’ll never say no.”

His face lit up. “Is that a promise?”

You responded to him by smiling and then looked away, letting him know, “absolutely not.”

“What?” the boy blinked, suddenly lost in his translation of your language. “You just said—!”

“You’re a shithead with unreadable intentions,” you told him kindly. “I can’t promise to always say yes to everything you do. But if you actually ask—”

“Okay,” he gave in, accepting your condition because you were making a good point. “I’m asking now.”

You nodded, appreciating that he did ask, after all, even though it’d all been decided already.

“I’ll come,” you said.

Jungkook smiled – genuinely now, not looking for ways to tease you or fool around anymore – and exhaled heavily to show you an exaggerated version of how relieved he was to hear this.

“Thank you,” he said. “I love you.”

The confession was supposed to be the new normal, but your heart was still on a field-trip, your heartbeat echoing all over your body as you smiled back. “I love you, too.”

The first time you saw Inna since she left last Friday, was when you got home from class on Monday. She heard you come in but, contrary to what you’d expected, she didn’t greet you by the door, demanding to know what had happened over the weekend.

Instead, you found her sitting by her desk, turned over in her chair as she was facing the door of the bedroom, a smirk on her face.

Automatically, you felt your own lips stretch into a smile as you entered the room, asking, “what?”

“Should I prepare for a third roommate to move in with us?” she asked, taking enormous pleasure in the way you sat down on the bed and purposefully turned away from her to unpack your bag.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, hoping to sound nonchalant but, judging from the way Inna snorted, probably sounding desperate to change the topic. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Oh, I did,” she replied, her face still adorning a Cheshire Cat’s grin. “But I bet it was nothing like the weekend you’d had.”

Pursing your lips because you couldn’t help but feel yourself respond to her cheerful expression with a smile, you asked, “will you stop looking at me like that?”

“I absolutely won’t,” she replied, “not until you tell me every detail.”

“You don’t want every detail…”

The way your sentence faded made Inna gasp. She jumped from her chair abruptly and threw herself across the room, landing on her stomach right next to you, on your bed, her legs flying up from the floor in excitement.

“Oh, like hell, I do!” she exclaimed, drumming on your thigh with her palms as she waited for you to stop digging around your bag and finally give her something. “Come on, I’m starving here. Feed me.”

Almost laughing, you allowed Inna to grab your bag out of your hands and shove it away, out of your reach.

“Did you hear how that sounded?” you asked as you lied down on the bed next to her.

“Unfortunately, I did,” she countered, “because you won’t start talking. Come on! I know you want to.”

You did want to. But, unfortunately for your dignity, you also wanted to giggle uncontrollably and your roommate’s encouragement wasn’t helping your restraint.

“I won’t be able to say one sentence if you keep looking at me like that,” you warned her.

Inna had a solution for everything, turning away from you as she talked you through her plan, “Talk to my back. I promise I’ll stay quiet. Well, no, actually, I can’t promise that, but I promise I will definitely hear you out until the end before I start screaming.”

In fact, she did not.

You could hear her supportive whining and flapping of her feet as soon as you told her about how you found Jungkook outside of your dorm room when you returned from the barbecue. Her response to your story kept growing louder, and, before you were through with the re-telling of the conversation you’d had with Jungkook this morning, she was nearly shrieking, making it impossible for you to quit beaming.

Even when you expressed your concern about Jungkook’s tense relationship with his bandmates, Inna responded in a way that supported your joyful state of mind and made all of your anxiety seem unnecessary and over-the-top.

“This is it,” she declared, triumphant. She still wasn’t looking at you. “You’re really together this time and there’s nothing that can happen to ruin that.”

“Famous last words, Inna.”

“Oh, please,” she turned on her back, looking at you through her eyelashes. “You’ve reached the limit of the curveballs the universe can throw at you. You’re fine now.”

You felt a natural instinct to argue – it was like a rudimentary reaction to anything that promised you a good future: you had to find every way in which something could go wrong so you’d be prepared once it inevitably did – but you swallowed it, nodding instead.

“Yeah,” you agreed, choosing to live in the moment because it was too precious to just let it pass. “We’re fine now.”

Coincidentally – marking the beginning of a new period in your life – something almost unbelievable happened on the day of the Parental Advisory performance.

Because a gig out-of-town was, obviously, a huge deal for a band that had only performed locally before, Jungkook brought it up to his parents.

He did it offhandedly, almost as a last-minute way to let them know that he was finally advancing in more than one aspect of his life. And also, to spite his father who’d called his band a “hobby”.

But, surprising him to the moon and back, his parents asked if they could come and watch him play.

And so, they were here, inside of the venue, exploring the poorly lit and barely furnished event hall, and not being any more judgmental than they usually were.

“It starts at eight, right?” Jungkook’s mother asked you, since her son was backstage with the band, dealing with the lighting. “Maybe we could sneak in some dinner before the show.”

“Oh, actually, the band is planning to go out for some food together,” you said, unsure if the invitation extended to parents – and doubting it very much, considering the name of the group – but still feeling like it wouldn’t be polite to not invite them. “Maybe you could—”

“No, we won’t intrude,” Jungkook’s father replied this time. “We’ll meet you here after. Eight o’clock sharp. Although, being sharp doesn’t matter much at events like these, right?”

He smiled, waiting for your supportive laughter, but you could barely muster up a chuckle.

He’d said it like he was about to watch a street performer break dance outside of an opera house – like it was a form of art that was universally acknowledged, but it didn’t hold any meaning in the larger context of art – and you had to fight your sense of justice so you wouldn’t correct him.

Jungkook may have been reckless and, sure, he may not have finished a show one time – that you knew of – because he got wasted instead, but you’d never heard of a Parental Advisory performance that did not start exactly on time. Inna had used this argument to convince you to get into them a dozen times before: the members respected their audience, they didn’t think of this as a joke.

“Yes, eight o’clock,” you said, the same polite smile frozen on your face. “Jungkook is really looking forward to this.”

“He should be looking—”

“We are, too,” his mother stepped in, bringing a hand to your shoulder and squeezing it gently – a gesture meant to make up for her husband’s immediate response about what Jungkook should have been looking forward to. “We’ll see you later tonight.”

You nodded and followed after them so you could see them out of the venue – not that this was your responsibility, but it felt like the right thing to do since their son wasn’t here – except someone grabbed your hand right after you reached the exit. Gasping in shock, you turned around to see the son in question, grinning at you.

Fighting off the surprise, you looked back to see his parents walk out of the venue and then narrowed your eyes at Jungkook as you inquired, “were you waiting for your parents to leave before you came out?”

“Yes,” he admitted, shameless. “Sorry I had to use you to keep them company.”

“It’s fine, they’re nice people,” you said and then added teasingly, “you should hang out with them sometime. I think they’d like you.”

Jungkook gave you a look full of skepticism. “I could hear my dad basically call my band useless from all the way over there.”

“He—” you started, but then realized that defending his father would have meant lying to Jungkook, so you sighed instead. “Yeah. He just doesn’t see what this is all about, I guess. Have your parents ever watched you perform before?”

“What do you think?” he asked, nervously tugging on your hand – that he kept on holding – as a reflexive reaction whenever the topic turned to his family.

You nodded knowingly.

“So, this will be their first time,” you said. “They’ll come around. Well, your dad will. Your mom seemed excited.”

“About the show?” Jungkook asked, lifting up your hand and intertwining your fingers, “or about the fact that you’re here with me?”

You smiled, unable to help it. “Both?”

“No, that can’t be it,” he countered, taking one remaining step to close the distance between you. He dropped your hand on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist. “No one’s more excited about having you here than me.”

You ignored your racing pulse and played along, “are you sure? Because I’m pretty excited. I was even thinking of getting one of those ‘I’m with the band’ t-shirts that I remember your groupies wearing.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in humor. “My groupies?”

You shook your head in a chastising manner. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“That’s not surprise, that’s indifference,” he spoke and, even though he was clearly using his lines on you again, the smell of his cologne when he stood so close to you, pressing your body against his, was too intoxicating for you to call him out on it. “And, in any case, I’d like to see you wear something else entirely.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

Jungkook leaned in closer until you could feel his breath on the nape of your neck as he whispered, “nothing at all.”

Almost jumping in surprise as a wave of excited shivers ran down your spine at his words, you squeezed his bicep in a warning manner and chuckled. If Jungkook didn’t know you better, he’d have thought you sounded nervous when you spoke again.

“Don’t forget where are are,” you reminded him as he hummed against your neck, pressing several gentle, butterfly kisses on your tender skin. “Your bandmates are right behind that wall—”

“Are they?” Jungkook asked, pulling away enough to look at you but not enough to give you any space to breathe as his forehead lingered mere millimetres away from yours. “Maybe we should do a soundcheck of our own, make sure they can really hear us?”

You watched him with parted lips and he cherished in rendering you speechless so much, he couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face right before he leaned in to kiss you.

Sighing – mostly in defeat because, clearly, he’d succeeded and you weren’t going to protest much anymore – you tightened your grip on his shirt as you kissed him back.

Jungkook had very much forgotten where he was as soon as he felt the softness of your lips against his and, taking a few steps forwards until your back hit the wall, he used the element of surprise to his own advantage as he deepened the kiss, trapping your body between his and the wall.

Both of you could hear muffled noises, coming from somewhere in the venue, but just like before – in his childhood bedroom or in the hallway of your dormitory – you were too far gone to care about any noise – or anything at all – that wasn’t literally right in front of you.

He kissed you like he had a point to prove, like the performance he’d come here for wasn’t going to begin at eight, but it began now. And he gave his all, pulling you closer and tightening his grip on your waist as his fingertips crept down to your belt to pull out the turtleneck that you’d carefully tucked into your jeans this morning.

Wanting to touch you, not just your clothes, he evidently couldn’t have cared less about your relative exposure to the rest of the venue, as he pulled out your sweater and sneaked his hands underneath. As soon as his fingers felt the warmth of your skin, he exhaled into the kiss, forcing you to grasp his shirt harder.

You knew of Jungkook’s abilities when it came to mood swings – the boy could climb from zero to one-hundred in under a second, that was nothing to him – but the unexpected lust and the intense passion of his kisses still took all of your breath away as you held onto him, not making any requests to slow down or take a break even if your lungs were starting to ache.

“Oi!” a voice called out suddenly. Jungkook didn’t even flinch, kissing you harder, if anything. “You need to tune in your—nevermind. Just hurry up and come backstage, will you?”

Jungkook made no sound of acknowledgement whatsoever, too focused on the task at hand and too lost in the feeling of your lips to worry about anything else, so you were the one who had to pull away, your lips smacking against his as you broke the kiss. When he opened his eyes, Jungkook looked almost offended.

“They’re waiting for you,” you told him, breathing heavily as if you were recovering from finishing first at a marathon. He looked at you as if you spoke a different language. You tried, “the band?”

“They can—”

“We don’t have the whole day!” his member called out again – you couldn’t see which one it was because Jungkook still refused to pull away – and you heard him open the door to return backstage. He shouted at Jungkook again before leaving, “but you do your thing! Not like a lead vocalist is that hard to replace.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at the last part and you felt yourself smile softly, nodding your head in the direction of the stage.

“Go,” you encouraged. “I’ll go sightsee.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And leave me here?”

“You have a soundcheck to get to.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, grinning again as he leaned in to press a soft kiss right below your jawline. He pulled away far enough to add, “with you.”

You half-laughed, half-exhaled as he peppered gentle kisses down your neck.

“Not that kind of—Jungkook,” your voice did not sound nearly as stern as you wanted it to; even your hands seemed limp as you tried to push him off of yourself and gain some space to breathe, “seriously.”

He reacted to your rejection in the way he always did – by taking a step away from you and giving you an almost mournful look, “you are pushing me away. That is unacceptable.”

“You have more important matters right now,” you told him.

“I do not,” he insisted childishly.

“You do,” you repeated and then, pushing yourself off the wall, you placed your hands on his shoulders as you attempted to turn his resistant frame around, “go. I’ll come back in time for the dinner.”

Jungkook allowed you to push him towards the door to the back of the stage, but he still whined dramatically in a last-ditch attempt to tug at your heart-strings, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“You act like you’re five years old sometimes,” you told him and then added, less seriously, “I’ll see you soon. Be a good boy and behave.”

“Oh, behave,” he repeated, intrigued now. You stopped in front of the door and released your grip on his shoulders, allowing him to turn to face you. The twinkling lights in his eyes were challenging as he asked, “will I get a reward if I behave?”

“Yes,” you said, “your reward will be not getting your ass handed to you by your members. Now go.”

You gave him one last nod towards the door and then a reassuring smile, too, because the boy was pouting as if this was his first day in kindergarten; you felt ridiculous and he was absolutely using that to win more of your love.

You were about to turn around to leave when Jungkook suddenly leaped forwards, taking your hand and stopping you.

“You’re leaving without kissing me goodbye?” he asked, looking almost outraged. “Your audacity is just—”

You pressed your lips to his abruptly, shutting him up before he could proceed any further with this game, and then pulled away as soon as you felt his grip on you tighten; Jungkook was losing his sense of reality again.

Not saying anything else, you used his disappointed reaction as a way to get your hand out of his without him stopping you, and then, with a quick wave, you jogged towards the door. When you turned to glance at him one more time before you left, Jungkook was still standing there, shaking his head and smiling at the ground.

You‘d checked Google Maps before arriving to get acquainted with the area and, as it turned out, you didn't have to look very far to find an activity to occupy yourself with, because right across the street from the venue, was a horror book store that Namjoon had told you about before, back when you were working on your Sociology project.

Snapping a quick picture of the exterior of the store, you texted it to Namjoon to let him know you visited it, and went inside to explore.

The space was small, with barely enough room for two people to pass each other, but it was paradise for every horror fan. Not only did it contain books – many of them first editions, no less! – but also old DVDs and promotional movie posters. Actually, you thought you even saw a few VHS tapes hidden behind some books, too.

Canceling your plans to explore the rest of the city, you made a split-second decision to spend the few hours before the dinner here. And you didn't regret not going anywhere else – the several books and movies that you‘d bought seemed like a great purchase and you were satisfied.

However, as you headed for the restaurant where the band was supposed to meet up for dinner, you felt weirdly worried. It was Jungkook who‘d sent you the address of the restaurant, but he sent you four texts of it, and you were concerned that no one else was going to show up because he‘d only informed you – four times – and forgot about everyone else.

As it turned out, that wasn't what you should have been worried about.

In fact, at first, you didn't think there was anything worth worrying about at all. You saw the boys seated at a table outside, underneath a large parasol, laughing and having drinks. Jungkook noticed you first and he stood up to meet you on the steps of the patio.

“Heyyy,” he said as soon as he saw you, drawing out the y’s for what felt like three whole seconds.

You lifted your eyebrows but chose not to make a comment. “Hi. Did you order yet?”

“No, we were waiting for you,” he explained, putting a hand around your shoulders to guide you towards the table. He didn’t duck when you two walked past the narrow space between two tables and nearly got his eye taken out by a parasol rod. “Oh, wow! Now that—that could have killed me.”

“It could have blinded you,” you said, giving him a long look, “how would it kill you?”

Laughing instead of replying – because, apparently, you had just made a joke – Jungkook helped you into your seat and took one right next to you. When he turned to take your glass and fill it with champagne – the waiter had left three bottles on the table; one of which was already empty – you got to take a closer look at him and realized with horror that his red eyes were definitely not a sign of having had too much champagne.

“So, how was the soundcheck?” you asked, looking at the other members of his group – which was a mistake because Jungkook wasn’t aware of how much champagne was too much, and it ended up spilling out of your glass and pouring all over the table. “Careful—! Jungkook, why—let me. I’ll do it.”

He was laughing again and apologizing as he clumsily tried to clean up the mess on the table with the sleeve of his jacket. Gently pushing him back into his chair by his shoulder, you grabbed a few napkins and tried to soak up the liquid that hadn’t seeped into the tablecloth yet.

The rest of the group wanted to help – a chorus of belated “oh!”’s sounded around the table – and, even though you expected them to be about as useful as Jungkook, they proved to be a lot more in touch with their surroundings.

“The soundcheck,” Jungkook said, pinching his thumb and index finger and kissing it like a chef, while everyone else around the table cleaned, “was great. We’ll have an unforgettable night.”

You saw Taehyung giggle and gave him an inquisitive look – one that proved to be more threatening than you’d intended, because the boy blinked and stopped smiling as soon as he caught your eye – prompting him to explain.

“We had a quick, little smoke before we came here,” Taehyung said and then nodded his head at Jungkook, “him a little more than the rest of us.”

From the way it seemed, the smoke Jungkook had had was nor quick, nor little – he was swinging on the back legs of his chair as he sipped champagne; a second later, he lost his balance and would have fallen over if you hadn’t been standing next to him.

Hearing his alarmed gulp and seeing the chair freewheel backwards, you stopped and pushed it towards the table with your thigh and Jungkook burst into laughter.

“You are my lifesaver,” he declared and would have probably burst into a solo round of applause if the waiter hadn’t distracted him by bringing the appetizers.

“Is he going to be able to perform like this?” you asked, sitting back down. You glanced at Jungkook and noticed his preoccupation with the shrimp on the plate in front of him. “He probably doesn’t even realize where he is.”

“We still have a few hours,” Taehyung replied. “He’ll be fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched the boy next to you indulge on everything that was on the table at the moment – it seemed like he would have gladly tried to take a bite out of the glass bottle of champagne, too, that’s how little attention he was paying to the things he was putting into his mouth – and you tried to find the reason why he decided to get high before a show that his parents were going to attend.

But then, perhaps, that was precisely it. This was a concert like none he’s done before in more ways than one: not only was it off-campus but it was also going to be the first time that his parents would see him sing live. So, however ridiculous it was to say this about someone as confident as Jungkook, but he must have been nervous.

“Maybe it’d be a good idea for him to—” you started to say but half of a breadstick was shoved at your face before you could finish.

“Try this!” Jungkook insisted, waiting eagerly for you to open your mouth as if he was going to feed you ambrosia itself. “It’s brilliant.”

Worried about what he would do if you refused, you parted your lips and allowed him to feed you the breadstick. He waited patiently while you chewed and then smiled proudly when you gave him a nod and a weak smile.

“I could have a hundred of them,” he announced then and, judging from the dedicated glint in his eye, he was planning to do just that.

“Is that normal?” you asked his members again, nodding your head towards Jungkook as he stuffed his face with breadsticks.

“What, his love for bread?” Hoseok replied this time, snickering. “Surprisingly, yeah. It becomes more prominent when he’s high. He once ate an entire loaf in one sitting.”

The other boys burst into giggles – thus, reminding you that they weren’t sober, either – and you exhaled slowly, realizing now that this dinner was going to be a particularly long one.

You’d hoped that by the end of your main course Jungkook would be back to his normal self, but that was not the case at all. In fact, his high didn’t wear off even when you returned to the venue after the dinner.

With less than an hour left to the show, Jungkook was dozing off backstage, harmonizing under his breath and dropping the microphone in shock when you entered, closing the door a little too loudly for his overly-sensitive ears.

“Oh!” he exclaimed matter-of-factly before leaning down to pick the microphone up, all while ignoring the scolding of audio engineers. “You’re right on time—listen to this.”

You stopped a few steps away from him and watched as Jungkook put his microphone to his lips before he opened his mouth to grunt and release other low, gruff sounds, coming from somewhere deep in his throat, that made him sound like a cat, choking on a ball of fur.

He looked immensely pleased with himself when he finished the impromptu concerto. Raising his eyebrows, he awaited your reaction.

“That’s good,” you said, mentally calculating if there was enough time left to push him into a cold shower. “You’re all set for your audition to join an a cappella group.”

“An a capp—no, I’m not joining—wait, do you think I should?” he asked, sounding terrifyingly genuine.

You heard the door open and close behind you, but Jungkook leaped forwards before you could turn around and embrace the distraction.

“Hey, Yoongi, listen to this—!” Jungkook said and was about to repeat his previous demonstration, but you decided this was enough.

Pulling on the sleeve of his shirt, you cut him off and, ignoring his surprised yelp, you dragged him towards the communal bathroom on the other end of the changing room.

“Hey!” Yoongi called out after you. “Where are you taking him? The show’s in forty-five minutes!”

“He needs a cold shower,” you called back, not bothering to stop or turn around, “or he will perform his rendition of a hairball being stuck in his throat on stage.”

Yoongi didn’t question you further – he’d regained enough of his rationality to understand why that’d be a bad way to start the show – and, a second later, you were already pushing Jungkook into the shower stall, still fully dressed. He hadn’t changed into his stage clothes yet, so you didn’t think it mattered.

“Are we taking a shower together?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows. “Because I’d prefer to be undressed for that.”

You turned the shower on. A long moment of silence passed after the water hit Jungkook.

“Ah, shit!” he finally exclaimed, gasping and jumping away from the stream of the ice cold water that had already soaked him. His reaction was, clearly, still delayed.

Regardless, Jungkook gave you a look full of terror and disbelief – as if you’d thrown him to the wolves and he only realized that after half of his leg got chewed off.

“Why are—” he tried to ask but you cut him off, getting the front of your own clothes splashed with water as you redirected the barely motioning shower head towards him.

“Because you’re high out of your mind,” you replied, “and if you don’t want to get disowned, you need to sober up as quickly as possible.”

“How is this—my head is going to freeze!” he complained, trying to bolt but only slamming his body into yours – and, thus, making you even more wet – as you blocked his exit. “Please. I’m cold.”

“Good,” you replied – so honest, it was almost ruthless. “That should speed up the process.”

He whined for the next few minutes – you were convinced that, after the first minute, his whining turned into a habit because, at that point, he already looked half-asleep – but he didn’t try to run away, which was a blessing, because if he came to his senses, he could overpower you and escape with relative ease.

However, escaping wasn’t on his mind and Jungkook endured the cold shower with newfound determination. You chose to take it as a sign that he was now sober enough to recognize the danger of going to perform while he was so high, he wouldn’t have been able to recognize himself in the mirror.

He climbed out of the shower shaking, somewhat dizzy, but aware of his surroundings.

“I’ll get you a towel,” you said after you’d helped him take his black t-shirt off – it basically rolled off his damp skin, really – but Jungkook pulled you back by squeezing your hand.

“T-thank you-uh,” he said, his lower lip trembling from the cold.

The gesture surprised you – you thought he’d sober up, but you didn’t think he’d appreciate that – and you felt yourself respond to him with a nod and a smile.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised again.

Most surprisingly, the shower seemed to work. To be fair, Jungkook still giggled when he walked into the side of the door on his way out of the bathroom, but he could actually sing now – as soon as he stopped shivering, that is – and, with five minutes until the start of the show, he looked much more ready for the performance ahead.

“Thank you,” a voice said to you as you lingered by the door of the changing room, toying with the end of the extra shirt that you’d borrowed from Jungkook. You turned around to see Yoongi. “Most people would have just left him to deal with it on his own.”

You were quick to realize that Yoongi was, obviously, thanking you for taking Jungkook off his hands.

“He’s capable of a lot of things,” you replied, “but cleaning up his own mess isn’t one of them.”

That got him to chuckle. “Yeah. I honestly thought he’d be fine. It’s not the first time we went for a smoke before a show. To ease the nerves, you know?”

You didn’t know. Somehow, you’d assumed, the members of Parental Advisory never felt nervous.

“Yeah, uh, I get it,” you said, realizing how naïve that belief had been. “He sort of overdid it this time, though.”

“Sort of,” Yoongi repeated, “that’s one way to put it.”

“Would it make me sound masochistic if I said I’d seen him worse?” you asked, only half joking.

“No,” he replied, “but the fact that you stayed with him in spite of it, kind of would.”

He gave you an apologetic smile but you responded with an understanding nod.

There was nothing to get upset about: Jungkook had wreaked havoc on your life, that was true -- but only because you’d let him. You could have walked away if you felt like you’d had too much, but you chose to stay.

“Yeah,” you started to say after inhaling deeply enough to fill up both of your lungs. “Well, he’s—”

“He loves you,” Yoongi said. “He probably thinks that’s enough to make up for the times he fucks up.”

You lowered your head, admitting this to him and to yourself, “sometimes that is enough.”

Rationally, the fact that Jungkook loved you probably wasn’t supposed to be enough, but, to you, it was. And you were the one who made the decisions for your life; you were the one who decided if you were treated fairly or not.

And tonight felt fair.

Tonight felt like you were helping someone out; someone who didn’t have enough strength – or, simply, pride – to even ask for help.

“His parents are in the audience tonight,” you said, voicing the reason why you understood Jungkook’s thought process that had lead to him, getting high right before the show. “He’s probably ten times more nervous than usually.”

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, but he’ll do great. He’ll be fine now.”

“The shower should have—”

“Because you’re here,” he added unexpectedly. “He would have probably found a way out of this even if you weren’t here – no offense – because he’d had plenty of practice coming out of fires he’d set himself. He’d come out of them burned and in pain, of course, but, at least, he’d survive. And now... with you being here, he might come out of this completely unscathed.”

You thought about his words, looking away from him and, thus, giving Yoongi the permission to excuse himself and join the rest of his bandmates by the side of the stage as they prepared to start the show.

Then, finally, choosing not to fight the small smile that had successfully made it to your lips, you exited the changing room, too, and joined Jungkook’s parents in the venue.

Apparently they’d been back here for a while and Jungkook’s mother had an ambiguous smile on her lips when she saw you approach their seats. You were taken aback by the similarity between the expression on her face right now, and the look on Yoongi’s face when he told you that Jungkook loved you.

Too surprised to ask how long they’ve been back, you chose to remain quiet as you took a seat next to Jungkook’s mother, and waited for the show to start.

Parental Advisory performed in the same breathtaking manner as they did back on your campus – they’d captivated the attention of everyone here before the first song even ended – and you could not stop yourself from cheering along with everyone else.

You could distinctly recall yourself in a contrasting position just a little while ago – back when Inna had dragged you to the Parental Advisory gig, right before you went to their after-party and talked to Jungkook for the first time in seven years.

Back then, you couldn’t let go of your prejudice and did not think it was fair for the group to have a following this large. They weren’t anything exceptional, after all. But, even so, you could remember the awe you felt when you watched Jungkook on stage.

He was in his element. They all were.

You still thought the music they performed may not have been extraordinary, but the members of the group had something inside of them – something that helped them connect with their audience. Something that made their performances a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And every time Jungkook looked at your box – you weren’t sure if he could distinguish your and his parents’ figures – you realized that your preliminary opinion about him had been correct: he was arrogant and very full of himself.

But Inna was right, too – from the way he got every single person, even the security staff, immersed in the band’s performance, he had every right to be arrogant.

You kept looking back to Jungkook’s father, anticipating a comment from him and even biting your lip to resist the urge to smile after you involuntarily allowed yourself to imagine the way his voice would sound when he admitted that he’d been wrong and that, clearly, Jungkook had already discovered his place in life.

But his father remained quiet all throughout the concert and, perhaps, that was enough. He hadn’t made a single negative comment – and that alone said plenty.

However, surprising you, the biggest compliment from Jungkook’s father came as soon as the performance ended, and Jungkook returned backstage.

His eyes were still red, but his entire body was glowing from the post-show high, so you’d have never guessed the real cause of the redness on his face. He enveloped you in a hug as soon as he saw you, nearly suffocating you with the strength of his grip, and leaned over to press a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek.

That was when his father spoke up and offered to drive you both home.

You didn’t find it unusual at first – they had a car, why wouldn’t they offer to drive you home? – but Jungkook went stiff in your arms and, when he pulled away, you suddenly understood why the offer was unexpected.

Jungkook’s father had never driven his son anywhere, not unless it was for the sake of the company. Making it worse, you were probably correct to assume that, ever since Jungkook moved out of his parents’ house years ago, his father’s urge to drive his son anywhere had disappeared completely, regardless of the motives behind this drive.

“Uh,” it took Jungkook a minute to gather his words. “Thanks, dad.”

That wasn’t something he thought he’d get to say when he first woke up this morning.

His father nodded and reached into the pocket of his jacket for the car keys when Jungkook suddenly continued.

“But, actually, we thought of staying behind to get some drinks. To, uh, celebrate the successful performance, you know?” he said, threading carefully and holding onto your waist tighter. Even though you’d already pulled away from the hug, Jungkook did not let you take one step away from him.

His father’s face grew clouded. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He asked it in a very official tone, as if he was making a business deal – almost wondering if merging with a different company was a wise choice.

“Yeah. It’s nothing big,” Jungkook said, caressing your shoulder to bring attention to the fact that you were standing next to him and his father had no reason to stare him down like that, “I won’t be there alone.”

“Did you even ask her if she wanted to come?”

The question – that sounded so natural coming from his father’s lips – forced him to freeze, just like that Monday morning, outside of your dormitory.

A loaded moment had to pass before Jungkook found himself again but, by that time, you’d already realized you had to interfere.

“I don’t mind,” you said, not wanting someone else to do the speaking for you when you were, technically, a part of the conversation. “I’d love to share a toast with the guys.”

You tried to substantiate your words with a convincing smile but, really, you didn’t know why you paid any attention to your facial expression at all – you weren’t lying.

Aside from Jungkook getting into a fight with Brock at the last Parental Advisory party, you didn’t have a terrible time there, and you figured that, perhaps, your bias against partying with the band members had been unfounded. Either way, you were genuinely ready to give it a second chance, especially when your body was still abuzz with the electricity from the show.

But Jungkook’s parents watched the two of you for another moment, looking very uncertain. You hadn’t heard them talk about you all of those years ago, and yet the shadows of their voices seemed to echo in your mind, expressing their concern about Jungkook being too big of an influence on you and, eventually, dragging you off the rails along with him.

Finally, a very defeated, “very well” sounded from his father’s lips as he gave you both a nod and turned around towards the exit, waiting for his wife.

“You were wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother whispered to him, giving you a wink and then bringing her hand over her son’s cheek, “thank you for inviting us.”

“Thank you for coming,” Jungkook said and, when his parents left, he turned to you and repeated his previous words with a deep exhale of relief, “thank you. For coming, for staying, for—”

You could feel the tension pulsing in his blood as he still hadn’t let you go and, wanting nothing more than to ease his anxiety, you cut him off with a kiss.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allowed him to pull you into his arms as he held onto you as if you really were his lifesaver as he’d called you before.

“You’re welcome,” you said when you pulled away, taking his breath with you.

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