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dynananarmy · 3 years

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REPUTATION|| Min Yoongi

Summary:

You were in the top. There was no person in the world who didn't know your name, either for your success or your reputation, believing that the only thing you should do is smile, be a good girl, don't force your opinions on people, and NOT for any reason deny the dating rumors. But then a gummy smile and a sweet accent came to change all your believe system, from a friends with benefits to falling in love, you encounter a new fear: would he love you despite your reputation

Pairings: Idol!Min Yoongi(SUGA) x singer!reader

Warnings: distorted body image and unwarranted fear of gaining weight. Unhealthy habits like starvation, underage alcohol consuption. Mild smut and age gap (Yoongi is 25 and reader is 20) but everything is consensual). If i miss something please let me know.

Gorgeous

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Alone, unless you wanna come along, oh

Anxiety was a familiar feeling, a daily occurrence even before you knew how to call it. The constant fear of making the wrong move, not filling everybody's expectations. But it never gets easier, walking a red carpet was nerve wracking at 20 like it was when you were 13, but expectations were higher, every single album need it to be different, different sound, different style, you need it to be more mature but not to sexy because then you were to provocative for kids who follow you, but not to demure because then you are a prim. And then, you were too fat, and then too skinny, or you would have the nice flat stomach that people expect but you didn't have the hourglass figure. So everything you stand in an outfit risky enough for you, you would shake like a leaf, praying that the apple and the water that you had eaten would not somehow make you look bloated. That you contour was blended, that the powder under your eyes would not flash in camera.

You were about to promote your second single of your album, a song who was for a ex manager and ended up seeing as a call out for war for a singer whom you were friends but ended up splitting ways when she started dating an ex boyfriend, an ex boyfriend that you don't actually love but it was still awkward going out with the new girlfriend of your ex. Your team takes it as publicity, even if there was not an actual feud, good or bad, publicity is publicity, and so the music video only seems to spark even more fire. Still you invited all of your friends, friends that you met through other friends, in fashion shows or while performing in lingerie runways, the kind of friends that you partied with in your mansion in Coney Island or the one in Malibu. But that only sends a spark of worry, appearing in a music video with models with perfect bodies only makes you even more insecure about your own, and you were scared about what people would think about it.

A tug in your arm pulled you out of the dazed of the camera's flash and your thoughts, Calum King was a producer, a handsome embodiment of masculinity, a strong build body, a short beard, barely there but enough to let you know that he was a man. He was older than you by a lot, not enough to be scandalous but enough to raise a few eyebrows.

He smile and you copied and hold his arm to the cameras, the lady assisting the red carpet gesture you to move and once you were out of the sight of the camera you let a shaky breath a pound in the head and the emptiness of your stomach make you feel dizzy and your publicist move quickly, holding a hard candy to you.

“Are you okay?” Calum asks, still holding you, you nod immediately and put the candy in your mouth.

“I´m good, the lights make me feel light headed but nothing that a little bit of sugar does´n fix” you say tasting the candy, feeling a little bit less tired, he nods but his sight was already far away from you.

“Baby, i´m going to say hello to a few friends, I¨ll see you in our seats, okay?” He doesn't wait for an answer, his manager following behind, you let a sigh of relief, relieved that you don't have to keep pretending anymore, Calum and you met a few months ago while visiting a friend of your to the studio, a paparazzi saw you having coffee and after that you kept seeing each other, he would be your date in events and to the world, you were official, but you didn't even be intimate,barely hold hands while walking in the streets, or kiss each other more than a few pecks when winning a prize, but even that, it felt forced. Your publicist looks away from her phone to look at you and gives you an indifferent look.

“A new korean band is in here, apparently they are very famous and are contending against you for one of the awards, maybe you should go and see them so people see that you support new talents”

Curiosity sparks within you “Korean band, is it BTS?” you asked, sipping your water you publicist arch an eyebrow

“Yes, did you know them?” she looks rarely interested, you nod reminiscing how a few weeks ago you had stumbled on a fan edit of you and one of the members titled “1997 golden babies” seeing the dark haired boy dancing and performing with that much passion caught your attention, looking at his name and thus his group, fascinated enough that you had expend a few hour looking at the music videos and some of their performances, a bubble of excitement grew in your stomach making you feel energized again and you started to walk knowing your publicist was going to take you to them, skipping to some people you got to the corner where a group of at least 10 men stand, you immediately felt short and tiny and intimidated but you put your confident face and wait for your publicist to talk with one of the men, who yo assume was their manager, he look surprised and his gazed fall to you where you standing sandwiched between your bodyguards, he nod and went to say something to the remaining men 7 of them wipe their heads instantly to you and you smile, you make the remaining and they scatter in formation, pushing the taller men in front, he gives you a smile and flashed with a set of dimples.

“Hii, is so nice to meet you guys” You break the ice, you scanned every single one of them, from the tall broad shoulder one to Jungkook, the one of the edit and then your eyes fall to one of them, instantly draw for the way he looks at you, like he knew something your eyes goes back to the taller guy as he start to talk.

“It's so incredible to meet, we are big fans of your music” he says, you had heard that a lot but he sound genuine and the rest of the boy nodded, your eyes went back to the guy with the feline eyes and you see something that you had seen before but rarely from another artist, admiration, but also understanding, like he understanded something and he was fascinated by it.

“Are you performing tonight?” you asked trying to shake the feeling that he was reading you like a book he understands the language.

“Ummm, no, not tonight, hopefully someday” he looked a little ashamed but that only made you feel more admiration for them, they are escalating little by little.

“Id watched some of your performance” a chorus of ¨whoas¨ breaks their silence and you smile wider “You would have made us look like kids beside you, you are truly amazing” you compliment, the words flooding with ease, all of them let a ¨thank you¨ and when you meet eyes with the feline eyed boy he gives you the most beautiful and shy gummy smile, something inside you felt warm and fuzzy and you enjoy it so much that you wish it never went away. Your publicist asked for a picture and you stand with them.

The flash was quick, you changed the pose and at the same time you felt a delicate brush of fingers in your back. Tingles run down your spine and your hair stands, how was it possible that a man could make you feel that way without talking, without knowing him? You didn't even know his name, or how he was, he could be an asshole.

The camera stop flashing and the warm fingers leave your trembling body (you didn't know if it was of starvation or the adrenaline running through your veins) You look at him, the man with the gummy smile, cat-like eyes and the rose petal lips, he bow and you did the same as a reflex, that make him smile fully and the giddy, warm feeling bubble in your stomach all the way up your chest. You broke eye contact and with warm cheeks you went to hug the taller guy hugging all of them (not without almost melting in gummy smile boy, and breathing deeply his mainly citrus smell).

Your entrance was cut out by your manager, who led you backstage and you hope you bump into them, to talk to him, to hear him and let his fingers pay with your skin, but you were immediately trap in the changing room pulling other set of clothes and when you get out your publicist was waiting with a mint and a glass of ice you chew while letting the makeup artist retouch your makeup.

You had already stood up 5 times to receive an award and Top Social Artist was the last nomination before going to change for your performance. Sitting on the front row with Calum on your side being the perfect supporting boyfriend and with Zendaya on the other side beside her a bunch of other models friends, big names in the industry who appeared in the music video that had already premiered a few awards ago. And although you should've be worried if you would win the category you were already seeing black spots, nausea and heavy eyelids accompanying, and sitting beside with the most beautiful, tallest, slimmest, women of the moment didn't make you feel better, you could barely hear anything but the sound of blood pumping through your ears but after hearing your name and the loud cheers of your fans a smile appear in your clammy face, you wonder if you could even stand to get the award if you win, a louder cheer broke in the arena and looking to the screen you saw the south korean band announced and when it disappears it took a few seconds for the screams to stop, the announcers opened the envelope, two seconds of silence in the speakers and then...“BTS!” You jump clapping finding strength out of nowhere and with a smile you saw the band walk in front of your eyes with wide eyes, open mouth and smiles, a single hand sticking out for you and knowing who it was you brush his hand with yours.

Then you turn back and with a bodyguard in front and another in your heels, you walk into the main stage of the arena.

Everything was blurry, you followed the guard into the hallway and crouched to get in the elevator, holding the mic and letting your head go over the choreography. And when the voice in your in ear says “one”you feel the lift move and stand.You felt like you were going to faint, but still make your moves as smooth as possibly, it felt like forever but when you give the final move and look at the camera you give the most convincing smile ever. Wait for the count to end and the light to ade out to let your body fall to the ground. But the light did not fade, and the camera was still on you.

The host appeared to your side to announce that your music had already broken a record and that you had won another 2 awards. You accept the award and let the host hug you and unintentionally your body stumbles, your eyes give a turn and feel almost lost conscious.“It's okay” you said to the man and pulled out with a smile, looking to the worried crowd,”It's okay” you repeat in the mic ” I very excited, to be here and to win this awards, thank you to everybody that make this possible, my fans, my family, my team, everybody that listen my music and the art i make, thank you so much, i love you” You said, making well rehearsed words leave your mouth, you leave following the lady with the awards, numb.

The act seemed innocent and so quickly and random that nobody should have noted, but it set something, pieces clicking in place, for you felt illicit, scandalous, it ignited something that you have never let your body cave in, lust. A sin so impure that only thinking about it makes you flustered, but it only took a couple of glances, some brushes of skin and a hug for you to continue the seduction game he started. And you wanted him to win, to ditch all the circus and let him take you to the hotel, seeing him all in black contrasting with his soft creamy skin, a fallen angel.

Wanting to feel something, did you deserve the awards? Your music had moved so much from your original goal that you barely felt it was good. So you didn't feel proud, and you did not feel happy, or sad, or angry. You felt hungry, and tired.

How dare he be so cool? With the glinting earrings and the necklaces and the deep voice and side smile, a dream, you never thought he was just your type. Was it possible for you to have him? A quick internet research let you know his name, his position on the group and his age, he was a little over five years older than you, younger than your “exes” but so much different, he felt real, a real man, but at the same time he was surreal, to perfect, to gorgeous. And you wanted to know all about him.

You sit alone in the buffet of your hotel, with other people who also went to the awards, munching on a chicken salad with some delicious sauce and bread sticks and a glass of orange juice. Your orange juice, of course, was spiked with alcohol by your manager, a way to make you last giggly and awake for the rest of the night. Feeling already full with your second plate and with already a certain amount of alcohol in your system, you felt better, enough to keep looking at the table in front of you. Where 7 boy sit holding a camera laughing at one of them knocking the glass with the camera gummy smile boy who had, just like you, been looking at you smile with you and you hold the big stack of tissues at him, he walk to you and brushing fingers he take it from your hands “thanks” he said with a deep voice, one that you had already heard in his music videos but never compared to the real thing.

It took you 30 minutes to shower, dry your hair, put light makeup and a flowy black dress, that fall above your knees, do a quick google research of what to expect at losing your virginity and chugging the mini bottle of wine of your mini fridge, cleaning all of the clothes on the bed and quickly fix it. And when you thought that he wouldn't come a knock was heard. You look for the last time in the mirror and open the door.

And he was there, his hair now completely straight and soft looking and his face was bare, no necklace and simple cotton shirt and black cargo pants. Like he couldn't be more gorgeous. Oh wait, he could, looking at you with the damn smile. “Hi” you said, already losing the game “Hi”, deep voice and cute accent, you can't help but giggle, boozing alcohol in your veins.

“Please, please come in” You open the door all the way “ I´m y/n, by the way” you said and he looks at you, “I know, I´m Yoongi” he says laughing “I know” you respondHe lifted an eyebrow “you do?” he said with a smug smile, “of course i know, i'm not that dump to hook up with a guy i don't even know the name of” you widen your eyes and blame the alcohol by your blunt remark, but feel relieved when he laughs. He let you lead the way to the living room and when he sits on the couch he notices the object on the coffee table, an unopened copy of BTS 'latest album you had.

They said goodbye and you broke contact, gulping the last of your orange juice and immediately got replaced, you looked back at your manager and publicist, talking to their manager, using the translator that look flustered, and you knew why, after yourself had talked with your manager about your request, voice confident but cheeks flushed, your manager didn't even had to approach BTS manager before he was already on his way, at that you felt a weird feeling, a territorial frown in your eyes, but you couldn't blame him. Every celebrity you have met has done this. A simple deal, a way for celebrities to keep their affairs as private and publicly clean, both sides agreed to keep it quiet and not slip ups. When they finally look at you, turn again to him, his manager walking to him, and slipping a black plastic card. A key to the room to one of the suites. Your suite.

“I thought you could signed for me” you explained with a shy tone “I found it on the airport bookstore and since i kinda collect music album i thought it was a nice addition”

He grabbed it “can i open it?” he said with the cute accent, you nod excited and he carefully start to unwrap you sit by his side to get a better look, when he finished it, he looks at you

“it has a photocard” he explains and you giggle again at the way he pronounce the last word, feeling the warm feeling in your stomach and he send your favorite smile at you.He opens the book and stop at the page with the card stuck to it “It's random so is a surprise, go, turn it around” he gesture to the book, you grab it and turn it around,

“Oww” you let out a disappointed sound when you look at the man that clearly wasn't your Min Yoongi, he laughs and you pout “what can i do if i want one of you?” you ask with a distressed look. He dares to look flustered and he reach to his neck and the his hair, you wanted yours in its place, you licked your lips and look at lis face, “You could buy lots of album until mine come out” hmmm

“That's a good idea” his stare became intense and his eyes darken, his tongue brushed his bottom lip and someone must move forward because your lips replaced his tongue was now kissing his lips.

Your fingers grab his shirt while his palms was cupping your cheeks, thumb brushing against it, the darkest desires in your mind, the need to be touch to be taken care of,taking his hand in yours you put it on your thigh, where your dress had lift and he complied to your silent request, pushing the fabric up and caressing your skin, but not where you need it him.

You lean in the couch bringing him with you, but he pull from the kiss, leaving you gasping, “are you sure?” he ask, with his soft, dark eyes, lips swollen and flushed cheeks, you nod, but he shakes his head “are you sure?” he repeats, you think for a second looking at your giddy, boozy brain, “yes, i'm sure” you said with the most confident voice you could muster, he kiss you again and then its your turn to pull away from the kiss ”wait, wait, i, i haven't, i never have i ever before, i mean, i never had done this before” you confess and he looks at you still panting, he nods, and ask again “are you sure?” and you are.

He didn't let you lay in the couch.

He let you run your fingers through his torso and take his shirt off.

You let him pull down the strips of your dress.

He let you know how much he desires you.

You let him touch for the first time against the wall, making you see stars and blow away in a climax.

He takes to the bed, carrying like you were a leaf.

You let him stole sweet moans out of your mouth

He takes it slowly, touching skin like you were fine china.

You feel like a confident woman when you whisper “you are so gorgeous, I can say anything to your face.”

He lets a deep chuckle and gives a deep thrust making you scream of pleasure.

A mix of sloppy kisses, discreet love bites, nails against skin and pasional hip thrust between the sheets you let yourself think for a second that is not a one time thing, that euphoric feeling you were experimenting and that it was the most happy you had been in years was going to finish the moment he finish panting against your neck.

You tried to not look disappointed when he stood up and walked to the bathroom, closing your eyes, letting yourself feel the remnants of your climax.

He came back a few minutes later, cleaning between your legs and leaving a soft kiss in your thigh before slipping your underwear in its place, holding you in his arms.

You cried for the first time in front of a person.

He tells you that he knew you were hungry, he had felt it before. Not by his own choice.

You tell him about the empty feeling in your stage while on stage.

He kisses your face while rubbing circles in your back.

When the morning sun came up you watched his sleeping figure, his back up and belly down, face facing you and his arm around you.

You mindlessly start writing invisible letters, your name. Wishing he could be more than a stranger.

He lets you a note. His number. Breakfast. And a single pink flower and a book from the souvenir store “ The meaning of flowers”

Azalea

The azalea is the flower that ushers in springtime in the southern United States. That’s one reason it’s so closely associated with beauty and rebirth.

These blooms are often given as a symbolic message to, “Take care of yourself,” which is an important sentiment to extend to the bereaved.

Little-Known fact:

Azaleas are celebrated in festivals throughout the world, especially the U.S. and Asia. In Chinese culture, the azalea is known as the “thinking of home bush” and was immortalized in the poetry of a famous poet during the Tang dynasty.

HIIIIIIIIII

I FINISH THIS CHAPTER

It took years, but my mental health has been bad lately and also was hard to write the first meeting, if it look to rushed, dont worry its kinda the point, they are not in love but definetly know that they felt something. But they dont know each other, i like to think of them as soulmates.

We see how she was physically and mentaly hitting rock bottom and her team is not as innocent as it look.

If i was vague about everything, when the managers were talking, they were basically negociating the one night stand, that way the public wouldnt found out. A normal ocurrence in this AU.

Everything you feel courius about, please let me know.

Thank you so much for reading, i love you

#bts #bts smau #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smau #bts fic #bts yoongi #bts social media au #bts social au #bts idol #bts jhope #bts namjoon #BTS jin #BTS jimin #bts taehyung #BTS jungkook #reputationminyoongi

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iaintyourbro · 4 years

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The New Red Herrings: Biggs and Zack and How Avalanche Tells Us the LTD is Dead

Biggs and Zack are seemingly alive at the end of FFVII Remake Part 1 - so what does that mean? Will they live throughout the story? Maybe they’ll be like Wedge and escape death initially, only to be forced to face it shortly after?

There’s also interesting similarities on the death scenes of Biggs and Zack, A while ago I took screenshots of the “death” scene of Biggs and thought it was interesting how they had Biggs touch Cloud’s head and also made him promise something.

And how are all these things connected to the LTD?

Now, clearly, neither Biggs or Jessie had as dramatic of a death as Zack or Aerith. We actually see the initial injury or incident that causes each of them to die. Cloud comes upon Biggs while he’s already sitting down injured. Cloud and Tifa come to Jessie after she’s under the rubble and try to save her.

We know Cloud pretty much loses it when Zack dies. He collapses mentally. He’s already been through enough shit to fill a lifetime, and now his only friend, his best friend, and the guy who saved his life, dies trying to get them back to Midgar.

Why Zack is Important to Cloud

Relationship wise, Cloud obviously had a much deeper connection to Zack. At the point that Biggs dies, he doesn’t know any of that, but I think his death definitely triggers something in him. Biggs saw through Cloud’s front. We know Biggs dealt with the kids at the Leaf House, and most likely acted like a volunteer in the Big Brother program. He tells Cloud he’s got a lot in common with the kids at the Leaf House.

Zack had Cloud take on the responsibility to be his living legacy. Of course we all know he shuts down about five minutes later. Biggs had Cloud promise that this wouldn’t all be for nothing. In both cases, it doesn’t work out. He forgets what Zack told him and the Sector 7 plate still falls.

Zack’s death has a major impact on Cloud - it’s ultimately what breaks him. It also gives us these really sad moments of somebody who’s already been through so much and is breaking now.

Cloud is upset about Biggs. He was becoming his friend. The three Avalanche members really did accept Cloud and tried to be his friend. He was included with them - in most cases. Of course there’s the Avalanche party that he’s kicked out of (mind you - he does this to himself by acting like an ass to Barret and them) and then during Chapter 4, he’s separated to go steal Jessie’s dad’s ID.

Ultimately, though, we know that Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie all like Cloud. They seem to see through the hard exterior pretty easily. So Cloud loses another person in his life.

The ending of FFVII Remake takes an interesting turn. Anybody who played OG or CC knows what is supposed to happen to Biggs and Zack.

But, Remake’s ending seems to imply that they survive the event that was supposed to take them out.

Did Zack survive the last stand? Is this a case of the Last Stand in CC being combined with OG where as they walk away, Zack ends up getting shot anyway?

So we also see Biggs.... wait, wrong picture.

That’s the right one. We get a shot of Charlie Sheen Biggs waking up in a bed in what looks like some type of either infirmary or large room. In OG, we know that all three of the Avalanche members die during the Sector 7 plate fall. In Remake, the only one we get confirmation on is Jessie, and that’s only in the Chapter description.

Wedge we know survives until the Shinra building, where the Whispers ultimately take him out since he defied fate.

So, what will happen to Biggs?

The biggest thing talked about seems to be the ending. Zack surviving created a lot of buzz. Is there a second timeline? Is he going to just simply walk another 10 feet and get shot in the back? Did her survive in the first place? Why does Stamp look different on that bootleg chip bag?

Will we have a beautiful Zerith reunion?

In the OG, the Love Triangle illusion was the red herring. This was mostly to trick and distract the player to focus on something, so later they can destroy you with major twists. It also was used to get the player to like Aerith so her death would be more impactful. In addition, it makes the whole Northern Crater confession from Cloud about Tifa’s opinion being the only one that matters a slam in your face of holy shit what is going on?!

At this point, everybody and their mother knows Aerith dies. It’s not something that was kept a secret. It’s referenced in various materials. The one thing not openly referenced is what’s going on with Cloud. They never reference the Lifestream, the fake persona, or anything outside of the OG and Ultimanias. I think this is a shame since it’s such an important part of his character arc, but I get that they want to try and leave the element of surprise in play.

I think everybody would agree that the moment you find out Cloud was just a grunt that was WITH Zack during the Nibelheim incident is super powerful. I still get chills all these years later. Letting this be a well known thing would take away the element of surprise from new fans. Of course, people can go online and read blogs like this one and know all of this, but for somebody - especially future generations - who may just be looking for a new game to play, you’d want this element of surprise to stay in tact.

We can’t use Aerith as the only red herring anymore, and we can’t use the love triangle. For many reasons. Everybody knows about it and the love triangle was a poor choice for something like this because some people missed the point completely.

Now, FFVII Twitter is always on fire.

Also, even though the Lifestream and Cloud’s true identity are pretty well kept secrets in terms of printed media, most of the people who played FFVII Remake played the original game, they know what happens. People who were new and played Remake first most likely went and bought OG and played it. So now they know what happens.

They knew this, or they probably wouldn’t have shown Cloud in this state, but even for those who don’t, the alternate timeline theory is born. Biggs enhances this theory because he’s alive too. How can Cloud walk past them AND be carried by Zack in some catatonic state?

It keeps us distracted. They want us to think that fate can be changed. In the case of Zack, they’re even saying that the past can be changed.

Ultimately, whatever they do, it’ll be shocking to most players. I do trust that the devs aren’t being deceitful when they say they are going to keep the major plot points the same and FFVII will be FFVII going forward. Part 1 keeps major plot points but adds substance to a lot of things. They took out unnecessary parts and enhanced others. They also removed a lot of the love triangle stuff.

Another striking thing with all of this is the Jessie factor. The Chapter screen tells us she died - it only says Biggs was seriously injured. That hasn’t stopped speculation.

The ending shows gloves on the table next to Biggs’ bed and a lot people said oh it’s Jessie’s left glove! And it does appear that it is. There’s only one glove. To me, this seems like they recovered her body and were able to pull of some personal affects of hers to leave with Biggs. Both articles look damaged or faded.

Faded could mean they’ve been sitting in the sun for a while. The incident happened a few days ago, though we don’t have a definitive time on when we’re shown Biggs. This could be a future look.

They also could simply be damaged and full of dust from the plate collapse.

It is implied in Chapter 4 if you listen to the conversation between Jessie’s mom and the gang that Biggs and Jessie have a different relationship than Wedge and Jessie.

I have some thoughts on what this may mean:

Biggs is Jessie’s BFF and her mom likes him.

Jessie and Biggs dated at one point and decided to not tell her mom that they no longer are or that its casual.

Jessie’s mom was hounding Jessie about finding a man so she picked Biggs to be her pretend boyfriend and he agreed.

Biggs and Jessie are secretly dating and only her mom knows.

Which one do I think it is? Well, knowing Jessie, I can definitely see her doing #3. I can absolutely see her acting like Biggs is her boyfriend to get her mom off her back. I think #1 and #2 are also huge possibilities. #4 is far fetched, but they could cover it up by having Jessie flirt relentlessly with Cloud and appear to be single.

Some people think that Jessie will end up at the Gold Saucer singing. Personally, I really hope not. If they keep a bunch of people alive (even if it’s for a short amount of time), it really takes away one of the major themes of FFVII which is death and moving on. In addition, I think it’s too many people they’d need to kill off later. Jessie is a very popular character, so I hope they don’t take that as an incentive to change that aspect of the story.

Aerith’s funeral and Jessie’s death are similar as well, so I think it is foreshadowing some things.

We get a princess style carry here. Aerith and Jessie both get these in Remake. Jessie’s second one ends in her death. Will Aerith get a second princess carry by Cloud? Will it be to take her to her final resting place?

Maybe she won’t even go to the lake - maybe to the sky?

We know Tifa was super upset in OG, and they really don’t touch on it much. We only see her run away crying after this moment. You learn in Case of Tifa that she’s really upset about, but a lot of people don’t read Case of Tifa, so they only know this scene.

We know that she gets very upset over Jessie’s death.

I think Aerith’s death will be much worse.

It seems Jessie’s death is a reference to how Aerith’s death was handled in the OG.

Will it be handled the same? Maybe. I think they’re going to make it seem like she’s going to be okay, and then boom.

So the ending gives us hope that we have two friends that are alive. It makes us think that we can save Aerith. I do think Wedge’s death towards the end and comments that Red XIII made in Chapter 17 may also be hinting towards the fact that you cannot change the past and you cannot change fate.

Over on Discord, @anesuna brought up a good point about Wedge’s cats. Biggums survives the plate collapse along with Wedge. The other two cats - Reggie and Smalls - sadly perish (::cries a lot::). This could also be a reference that Biggs survived while Jessie and Wedge do not.

So what about the LTD?

I think this is a heavy reference to the old OG love triangle. Don’t fall for it! They’re warning players now instead of wanting them to fall for it.

Why do I say this? Aerith seemed to think the love triangle was fun. Thing is, Cloud wasn’t all there at this point, so it was just an illusion. Since players didn’t seem to get that the first time, they’re going to make it clear now. There were a lot of aspects they seemed to take from Aerith and give to Jessie. Overly flirty (with Jessie they added thirsty) and being overly childish at times. Aerith in remake is still somewhat childish, but not completely.

Oblivious Cloud is Oblivious. Yeah, he was oblivious in OG that Aerith and Tifa had feelings for him. He has no idea what Wedge is talking about now. Earlier in this same conversation he thinks that Wedge is telling him not to come around because people will gossip about Jessie being in Avalanche, but the player knows really what he’s referring to...

I think this is probably a reference to the Gold Saucer date because of the stage part. I take things at face value and don’t really dig too deep, but I think this exchange with Wedge is supposed to tell the player not to fall for these false loves early in the game.

It’s brought up again during Aerith’s resolution scene.

Earlier Wedge said not to fall for Jessie’s trick, because it was a game to her. It wasn’t real love. Aerith is now telling her that if Cloud thinks he falls in love with her, it’s not real.

We have two separate instances in the game where they’re telling you to beware of the false love. It’s two times the word love is used.

After all of this, the ending presents us with two guys who should be dead that appear to be alive. One of them is directly connected to Aerith.

This was their way of trying to shut down the LTD and replace it with different red herrings. Will it work as well as the LTD? Well, it seems that the majority of FFVII Remake fans have talked about the ending.

Yes, a lot of people talk about the LTD, but I think the majority of players are more interested overall in what happens next and what’s up with Zack. I think the majority of the fandom is also ready for the LTD to officially be dead so we can actually focus on everything else and stop the madness.

It’ll never fully stop, but at least it’ll be clear for anybody who plays the game and alleviate the bulk of the chaos.

Say hello to your new red herrings: Biggs and Zack.

Say bye to the LTD.

412 notes · View notes

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

Little Border Town Pt. 3

Summary: It begins with a man and a woman, as it always seems to. One lives in France and the other lives in Italy, technically, but they’re also neighbors. Various issues arise between these two and they can’t ever seem to see eye to eye on anything. Will they ever move past their petty fighting or is the little town they live in doomed to only gossip about what Harry and Y/N are fighting about today?

Part 3: the one with the boat and the beginning of a storm

IT’S BEEN AGESSSS I AM SO SO SORRY I LOVE YALL SO MUCH AND EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER READ THIS THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT

also harry is wearing this fit in this part just no tie?? i think i cant remember

college has been incredibly crazy this year already and i just dont have time to write like i did before i went back. i honestly had this mostly finished and i havent reread so i have no idea what even happens so lmk what you think, i can’t imagine that it will get a lot of notes but if it did id be very happy about that - anyways lots of love and feedback appreciated as always...pls enjoy

Word Count: 6.6k | Warnings: ?? Swearing? idek, more yearning bc slow burn

Catch up here! part 1 | 2 |

“Isn’t the weather not ideal for boat sailing today,” she ponders as her face looks up at the sky. She’s walking into Harry’s store again after running back to her place to grab a jacket and lock up. She placed a notecard in the door’s window that says “closed today, see you tomorrow” with a smiling face as punctuation.

Harry grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had sailing boots on his feet with a smart big-collared printed shirt and marigold trousers. Instead of a belt, he had suspenders that matched the color of his pants and a pearl necklace as his final accessory other than his rings. He must have repainted his nails this morning because they were a light lavender shade that hadn’t been noticeable last night.

“It’s just fine. We’re entering fall and the sun is out today!” He gestures to the sky above them and she nods in agreement that the sun is indeed out. However she wasn’t sure if she’d categorize it as a nice day to go out on the sea still. With the sun there were also many clouds, they were mostly white and fluffy, but she was sure they could turn sinister any moment.

“Ready?” He beams.

“As I’ll ever be.”

On the boat, Y/N felt her stomach churning. Was she giddy or unnerved? Likely, both.

Harry was tying the boat off the dock after helping her onto the deck. It wasn’t a huge boat, not a yacht or anything, but it also wasn’t a tiny sailboat. It had an upper deck where maybe four people - at most - could comfortably be. Then a lower deck, inside a hatch in the upper deck. She couldn’t discern how much space was down there, but she was sure Harry would show her. He was talking through everything he was doing on the boat. Ad nauseum for an extremely nontechnical girl, such as herself.

Still, she sat in the spot he had directed her to next to the closed hatch and watched him move gracefully around the boat. Maneuvering the sails and different parts of the boat was a dance for Harry. Each step, each twist and knot, moved by a song unknown to her. It was beautiful. He was completely in his element, surprisingly. Again, Harry surprised her. She knew he had a boat, but whenever she thought of a jerk with a boat she didn’t think of what she was seeing with her own eyes. It was beautiful - or at least, it would be, if he’d shut his big mouth that was now making her roll her eyes as he made a pun about boats.

“So,” Harry starts finally, finishing up whatever he needed to do to get the boat off the dock and on the path he wanted. They were moving out into open water, she could see the little town, but it was growing smaller by the minute. Her stomach churned again as she looked up at the man she had just trusted to take her out onto the ocean. She grimaced slightly at the thought.

“Do you want to see the inside?” he continued.

She nods eagerly, “Finally!”

He chuckles lightly before opening up the hatch and gesturing for her to go first. She looks at him hesitantly.

“This isn’t a trap right? It’s not going to be all...murder-y down there?” Her voice is pitched higher, she’s almost completely serious.

This time Harry’s laugh comes from his belly, almost doubling over at the word ‘murder-y’. Between laughs, he tries to reassure her. “God no...oh my god.” More laughter, then a deep breath. “The only evil entity on this boat is the diavola I invited on here,” he gestures to her standing in front of him and her eyes narrow. Displeasure washing over her features.

“You’re ridiculous,” her hand swats at his sternum before she turns from him and climbs down to the underdeck area.

When she’s down, she’s surprised with her surroundings and she doesn’t notice Harry follow quickly behind her. It’s neat and stylish. Well, she’s not completely surprised, Harry was very fashionable. But the neatness dissipated all thoughts of the improbable scenario where Harry had lured her on his boat to murder her. It was what she had been freaking out over when she had at first refused to enter.

There was a small daybed at the end of the hall that doubled as a couch, a door to a bathroom, a dining area, a kitchenette, and then the random area they were standing in. It wasn’t super spacious, it was a hallway with things around it, but it was clean and it smelled nice. Everything had a place and they were neatly put in their places. After a moment, she turned at the feeling of Harry’s presence behind her.

He grinned, scanning the areas her eyes had just taken in for the first time. His green eyes were filled with admiration. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, smells like you.” She nods matter of factly.

“Huh?” His head whips to her, sure he hadn’t heard her right.

“The whole place is very you,” she looks away from him and walks down the hall to the daybed and takes a seat, “Styles-ish.”

He follows quickly behind, shaking his head out of his own thoughts.

He mumbles a thanks, not catching the play on words she’d used with his last name. She smiles to herself, pleased. He stands in the doorway, not really wanting to sit beside her. Maybe he didn’t trust himself with being in such close proximity with her anymore. No, not after last night.

Her eyes widen slightly when he leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. The sleeves of his button-up had been rolled up when he had been working with the sails. Her lips suddenly are dry and she wets them with her tongue, eyes moving to the fabric of the blanket she’s sat on top of.

“I meant to say,” Harry breaks the silence, obviously not a fan of the quiet. A hand leaves his pose and runs through his hair, rings classically tugging at his curls. He swallows before he speaks again, “Thanks, uh, for stopping me last night. That would’ve been weird…”

He trails off and her eyes go wide again, but now they’re trained on his face. His eyes are downcast now, watching the way light plays off his rings. She tries to make out the sound in his voice, the expression he’s trying to hide with indifference. Her teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth as she thinks, silence once again taking hold of the small, small room. The air is tense, static, unmoving, the complete opposite of the water that rushes just outside the walls of the boat.

She clears her throat and Harry locks eyes with her, “No problem...alcohol and atmosphere, clouds the head. I get it.” She did, but she also hadn’t wanted the gratitude Harry had just placed on her.

“You booze, you lose,” he smiles, straightening up and she looks at him quizzically.

“That’s such an odd phrase.”

“No it’s not!”

“It’s a play on ‘you snooze, you lose’ right?” She leans forward, face looking smugly up at Harry’s offended face.

“Well, yeah,” Harry admits.

“I can’t believe you made that up and got it tattooed,” She states breezily and then stands. She brushes past him to look around the rest of the cabin.

Harry scoffs, not even noticing the way her fingers had brushed over his naked forearm as she passed, too focussed on his indignation. “How’d you know about the tattoo?”

“Naked neighbor? Never closing his shade? Do you seriously need a refresher course already? Seriously, boat boy, I really thought you were smarter than that,” She talks as she snoops around the different parts of the cabin. She pokes at figurines and looks at little photos and paintings. Her head looks over her shoulder and she laughs happily at Harry’s face of irritation. It was so easy to push his buttons.

“Don’t call me boat boy,” he seethes, but she knows he’s not really mad. More like he’s a child who got told no dessert before dinner. A laugh rocks through her body again and bubbles to the surface. It causes Harry to soften, this time there’s no alcohol in his system to account for the feeling he just felt. He mirrors the smile she has. That is until she reaches the kitchenette and finds a rack of CDs sitting beside the sink.

She turns from him and begins to leaf through them, most of them are artists she recognizes. But then she reaches some that are just titled “Demo” with various numbers beside the word. Her fingers nimbly pick out “Demo #1” and turn back to Harry with an inquisitive gaze. His green eyes are bigger than usual, the smile gone from his face.

“These from the boy band days?” She smiles wider as he turns a little red. She crosses closer to him, remembering the sight of a cd player in the main area where the entrance to the cabin was.

“Erm..no.” She flips around again, confused again, but then it dawns on her. “Demos for my solo work.”

“That you put on hold to take over for your Uncle.”

“Great Uncle.” He corrects.

“I know.” She waited a second, where she was about to be quick to play the CD, she now wanted to get Harry’s permission. It might be a little more personal than she had first thought. “Can we listen to this one? You’d technically be taking me up on the request to play for me sometime.”

“Yeah, they’re rough - obviously. So if you could try to not bruise my ego, at least not more than you usually do,” he grins and she looks at him with dead eyes. A smile cracks on her face quickly, still.

“I wouldn’t...this is different,” she struggles to find the right words. She would never make fun of something he cared a lot about, not now. She wasn’t that person, it was odd to think he maybe saw her like that. She shook away the thought and focused on placing the CD in its player correctly.

The first song begins to play, he’s right it is rough, it’s a demo. There’s no backing vocals or beat of any kind. Just a voice and a guitar. And it’s amazing. After the guitar intro, she lets out a breath she had been holding when she hears the voice. His voice. It’s beautiful. And she’s shocked, her eyes flash to Harry. He’s nibbling at his bottom lip, watching her hear it for the first time. His voice from all those years ago.

“Brooklyn saw me empty at the news, there’s no water inside this swimming pool.”

Her eyes light up again at the lyrics and she smiles, finding it melancholic yet slightly funny at the same time. It was interesting, the words, his voice, the meaning. Some bits of information eluded her, but she knew she enjoyed the song.

“And I’ve been praying, I never did before.”

Even as the song moved on from this one lyric, she felt it replaying in her head as she watched the singer in front of her. Years older than he had been when he had written this song. She was filled with questions and paused the CD as the guitar faded out.

“That’s it?” Harry laughs, “Just one song? It was really that horrible?”

“Oh my god, no!” She is emphatic, needing Harry to understand she’s serious. She takes a step closer to his figure. He had traveled closer to her while the song had played. They were almost chest to chest and her hand goes out to touch his forearm. “I really liked it, genuinely. I just needed a moment before the next one.”

“Bracing yourself?”

“Stop, I’m serious. It was beautiful. Your voice is wonderful, Harry.”

His eyes sparkle at the praise, finally believing she’s not taking the piss. Then his eyes dropped from her gaze, “I was a lot younger then, was 21 I think when I recorded this demo.”

“So? A voice like that doesn’t just disappear, dude.” She looks at him with a finality in her expression before dropping the hand that was firmly gripping his tattooed arm and turning back to the CD player.

Harry bites his lip as another one of his early songs plays over the shoddy speakers. His voice repeats “Meet me in the hallway” over the solo guitar. There’s no echo or bass, no count in like the final song was supposed to have. It’s just him and his guitar, before he chose to leave it all behind.

His voice is sadder here, she notices and she visibly winces at “just take the pain away” and “just let me know, I’ll be on the floor” and his repetition of “gotta get better.”

How did this man, who seemed fazed by practically nothing, have so much hurt in him to write both of these songs? Her eyes welled with water, but she blinked them back still staring at the singer before her. He was watching the CD spin in the player as his voice came through the speakers. He was lost in thought, in memory. Maybe she was lucky, these weren’t memories for her, she was only hearing his interpretation of his life. She hadn’t had to live that pain first hand. This time she doesn’t pause before the next song.

The next one seems more produced than the last two. This one starts with drums, a step up from the last two acoustic demos in respect to production. A big crash and then a wailing guitar and an accompanying voice. His voice is stronger here, more sure of himself. And then it changes again, melancholic once again and her heart strings are yanked at again.

“We’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.”

The guitar continues that sad tone for a riff and then goes back to strumming beneath his voice. She shifts her eyes to him again and sighs softly, it weighs heavy on her soul that the man next to her has seemingly been through so much heartache. He looks up at “We don’t see what we used to see” and she holds his gaze, brows knit together in confusion and sadness. She pauses this time, finger reaching out without looking.

“This is depressing, please tell me they’re not all sad songs or I might as well have turned on a pet rescue commercial.”

His smile etches on his face, in a small knowing smirk and he crosses into her personal space. She’s about to step back, but he reaches out and softly bats her finger away from the pause/play button. She smiles back, shuffling to lean against the counter beside him. It was unusual for them to be on the same side of the counter, much like last night at the bar.

“There’s six songs on this demo. Three sad, three…” he trails off, looking at her expectantly. She nods. “You gotta learn to be a little less impatient, hmm?”

“Not impatient, just trying to brace myself for more sadness. I thought I had been promised a day of fun,” she grumbles.

“I wasn’t the one who suggested a demo listening party,” his brows raise and she twists her mouth to the side at his smug response.

“True,” she finally concedes with a murmur.

He presses play and a new song comes on that is more upbeat than any of the other’s that have played so far. It also seems to be a bit more produced than the first two. Her hand rests on the countertop and begins to tap, she quirks her brow at the first lyric “she’s got a family in carolina, so far away, but she says I remind her of home.” A girl who likened Harry Styles to the South of the United States, interesting. As she listens to the lyrics, she smirks at the massive crush he must have had to write this song. The “good girl” lyrics bounce around in her mind and her mind drifts back to last night. Would it have felt good? To kiss Harry?

Then, she’s brought out of her reverie with “I met her once and wrote a song about her”. Her eyes widen and look to Harry again inquisitively as his past self muses over how good this girl felt. He wrote about a one night stand? That woman must have been magic. That was all she had to say about that.

“Really?” She asks incredulously, folding her arms over her chest. His gaze flickers at the movement, human nature. He presses pause.

“What?”

“A one night stand earned that?”

He looked at her seriously, like the answer was obvious. She laughs before continuing.

“You’re a simp.”

“I’m sorry?” He sputters at her statement immediately.

She raises her brows as a response now. Nothing else to say.

“She wasn’t a one night stand,” he defends, “She was a blind date...and it had been after a dry spell.”

She starts to laugh, about to give another snarky response, but he adds, “And I was twenty-one.” The numbers specifically enunciated.

“You’re still a simp in my book...but I liked the song. It was catchy, rock vibes in there. I don’t know about her telling you remind her of Carolina - north or south, I don’t see it.”

He eyes her warily, still not happy with her titling him that gen z term that was super popular all over the internet. He took her in and he knew she was only three years younger than him, he was pretty sure, yet she used ‘simp’ and ‘vibes’ like they were lexicon words. He didn’t hate it, it was just different than what he usually heard in the little border town. Italian not having translations for things like that, English was so interesting, internet language was so interesting.

“I-” He starts and stops. “She said it. Was she right? That’s not my place to judge.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N pressed, words dragging out playfully, “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be a reminder of the U.S. South, but okay...simp.”

“I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I’m throwing you overboard and I won’t feel bad about it.”

Her eyes widen and then she smiles, he cracks a smile too. They huddle back around the CD player, ready for the next song. It starts with a strong guitar and drums, again well produced compared to the acoustic earlier ones.

His voice in this is far more shaky, unsure of himself again. “Let me take my medicine, take my medicine, treat you like a gentleman,” comes through the speakers. She shivers and looks at him, her fingers tapping along to the beat. The instruments are strong where his voice is soft, it doesn’t exactly fit, but she likes the lyrics still. When it gets to the pre-chorus, that’s when she knows she loves the song.

“I had a few got drunk on you and now I’m wasted, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (tasted)”

When his voice pitches high for ‘wasted’ she loses it. Her body moves with the instruments and her eyes close and her head wiggles. Harry smiles happily as she dances for the first time to one of his songs. The last word must have been shouted by his bandmates, because she doesn’t hear him say it.

Then the chorus hits and she wonders how it got even better. Her eyes shoot open and she just stares at Harry, her jaw slightly dropped.

“If you got out tonight, I’m going out tonight cause I know you’re persuasive! You got that something and I got me an appetite now I can taste it”

His past self sings of getting dizzy and his voice moans into the mic the demo was recorded on. She’s blown away. It sounds so hot, his voice gaining confidence during the pre-chorus and the chorus to have an all around rockstar sound.

The present Harry just taps his rings together as he watches her, studying her reaction with an even-tempered expression. Why isn’t he screaming like she is on the inside? When it gets to the second verse she’s bracing herself for what’s to come. This song has her pulse racing and blood flowing wildly around her body. She’s buzzing from it.

“The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with him and I’m okay with it”

The electric guitar follows the line up and she thinks she’s going to pass out on this boat right now. Flamboyant Harry. Was this what Marie had been talking about. The wild side of Harry she really had never seen, embodied in one song. She wanted more of it. Still all she got was the Harry on the demo rocking out to his song. She can hear him smiling through the recording, the sad boy from a few songs ago was now feeling euphoric. She just wanted to dance the night away with him.

Then another pre-chorus: “I’m coming down, I figured out I kinda like it, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (ride it)”

His voice goes high again for ‘like it’ this time and her question of what is to follow is quickly answered with the bandmates screaming ‘ride it’ into the mics they must have had. It’s punctuated with the drums and other instruments. A noise escapes the back of her throat and Harry looks at her both smugly and amused. She rolls her eyes in response, trying to convince Harry that she hadn’t just had images of him singing about how good someone rides him flash in her mind. Even more so with the images of someone, namely her, being the object of his dreams. Doing the things he said he’d dream of. That, that was definitely not what she was thinking about. Definitely not. Her throat was dry and she swallowed hard. Harry’s eyes never left her face. Watching every reaction, gauging it and storing the information elsewhere for the time being.

She sings along to the chorus, trying to focus on the song, it was easy to pick up, but then the damn moans. And then there’s a guitar solo that sounds like sex itself and she’s baffled that this was an unreleased demo, not a famous rock song. Harry in front of her can’t stop himself from tapping his feet at this part, a little dance forming on his body as his eyes finally leave her figure. They close as he feels the music, the memory of his friend playing the riff clear in his mind and how much he had loved it. It builds up again and then there’s a final chorus. She watches him now as he dances in the confined space. His mouth opens to sing along to the “la la la’s”

It ends and goes straight into another upbeat song. It seemed like a complimentary song to the one that had just played.

“I don’t want your sympathy, but you don’t know what you do to me, oh Anna!”

His voice sings strong again. Harry before her composed himself again, going back to his watching position. He took in her tapping and smiling to the song. He also mouths the words slightly as it plays, the lyrics clear as the day he finished writing them almost 4 years ago. One of the final ones for this demo.

“Hope you never hear this and know that it’s for you, don’t know what I’d tell you if you asked me for the truth”

She smirks at him, now, with the earnest lyrics, about to say something, but then notices the change in the guitar. It switches from the epic riff that was going to a more familiar tune, “Faith” by George Michael. She looks at him, a cheesy grin on her face as the voice begins to sing the chorus of that song. Her body begins to dance to it, like an old man doing the twist. She’s not ashamed and Harry loves it and joins her by mirroring the movements.

When the song comes to an end, they’re one large giggling mess. She falls into his arms and he holds her steady, their laughter coming out with freedom.

“Thanks for making me be patient,” She looks up at him, “it was worth it!”

He smiles, backing up slightly, “It’s like I knew what I was talking about.”

“Ok smart guy,” she teases with a silly voice. “I’m assuming whoever Anna is, isn’t actually named Anna then...?”

Harry hums and makes a twitch of his brows, but doesn’t respond. Instead he grabs her hand and she squeaks slightly, he pulls her to the ladder and prompts her to go up. She obliges silently and lands back on the top of the boat now. She looks out and sees the little town to be off in the distances now, shining blue water all around the creamy white boat.

Harry stands behind her now and shuts the hatch easily. She looks at him warily, confused by his silence. He extends his hand to her this time and she takes it. He leads her to the front of his boat. They’re moving, but so slowly you’d barely notice. There’s a loveseat of sorts right at the front and Harry sets her down in it. She smiles at him with caution, still bewildered. He leans against a part of the boat that stands in front of the seat.

“It’s beautiful, right?” He asks.

Her eyes have been looking around her, but they’ve mostly been trained on Harry. She was mesmerized by him now. His music, his boat, his clothes, his everything. She was seeing him in a new light. In a completely brand new way that had her unable to take her eyes off of him.

She nods finally when Harry looks at her expectantly. “It’s amazing,” she breathes.

His smile is the half-sided grin again. Beautiful big teeth on display with a little part of space between them. His dimple pops out and once again her eyes are on his face. She realized going on this boat with Harry might not have been such a good idea.

He folds his arms, her eyes flicker down. Every movement he makes, she doesn’t want to miss it. Even if she also is telling her mind to shake it off, she can’t. It’s like a spell.

“Obviously Anna is a pseudonym,” he says finally, eyes watching where the boat was taking him. She nods in approval. He pauses, watching the little waves, but she knows he has more to say.

“What did you think of the rest of it?” He asks quietly, gaze never going back to her. He knew she’d teased him a little and had danced along to some. She’d looked at him with wide eyes at some lyrics, but he wanted to know what she really thought.

She can tell he’s nervous, but she doesn’t understand why. They were all very good songs, his voice was beautiful, the lyrics were interesting. She didn’t understand his lack of confidence. His first time not exhibiting his usual self-assured - self-absorbed, even - personality. She bites her lip in confusion and his brows knit together, further showing his apprehension. The wrinkles in his forehead show up more prominently and she’s reminded that Harry is 26. He’s a different person now then he was back when he recorded that demo. Maybe there was a reason he kept them on the boat. She felt unsure in her response now.

“They were all great, Harry.” His face softens immediately. “Each one was beautifully written and sung. The ones that were acoustic sounded wonderful as did the ones with your whole band. I’m honored to be someone who got to hear those masterpieces.”

She wanted to tell them they should be famous songs, but she had a feeling that might not have the effect on him that she wanted. He had chosen a little quiet life in the little border town. She didn’t think he would want to hear how his music could have made it big time.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, just about the sounds of the sea. He lets a closed mouth smile twist onto his face, but it feels like he doesn’t fully believe her. She wants to kiss his worry away, but again, she knows it’s not possible. His words from earlier rang in her head. It would make things weird. Yeah, you’re right. Ugh, why had she agreed. She didn’t agree, not at all, not anymore.

“Did you have a favorite?” He stands up straighter with his question.

She laughs slightly, “I liked the second to last one a lot. It was hot.”

“Hot how?” He steps closer, smirking.

She jumps up from her reclined seat, in indignation, “Oh come on, you know it’s hot. Now you’re just looking for me to stroke your ego! It’s obviously about sex.”

“And? You’re the one who’s saying it’s your favorite and blushing.” He arches a brow at her, arms going to his hips and looking at her teasingly.

“Well, you’re the one who was singing about sucking dick and dreaming of how someone rode you.”

“Is that what it’s about?” His voice raises as he purses his lips and raises both of his brows.

She realizes just how worked up he’s gotten her in such a short amount of time. She huffs and turns away from him with a flick of her hand. “You’re infuriating.” Is all she can say. She looks out at the waves now, ignoring Harry even though he’s less than a foot away.

He’s laughing behind her for a little. Then when she doesn’t turn around, he quiets and she’s not quite sure where he’s gone. Then his breath fans over her neck and right shoulder, where her jacket hasn’t managed to cover her. It’s warm and a little minty as the scent travels over the salty sea air. She doesn’t turn or move a muscle for that matter.

A hand reaches out to her shoulder, but still she makes no move to turn. It rests there for a minute and she simply huffs again, letting her shoulders rise and fall dramatically. A single laugh slips from Harry’s mouth.

“C’mon diavola, don’t be like that. S’all in good fun.” His voice is low in her ear, sultry even. It reminds her of his voice in that song once he got into it. His voice sounds like sex in her ear and this time when she sighs it’s not because she’s irritated with him. No, she wants him. The sigh has an undercurrent of that desire and she hopes Harry doesn’t understand that. But otherwise she stays quiet, letting him murmur into her ear with his hand on her shoulder and his chest pressed to her back now. The only witness of this exchange is the ocean before them.

His head leans closer and if she didn’t know any better it felt like he was about to press a kiss to her neck. Instead all she feels is the brush of his mustache, it tickles the shell of her ear and she can’t keep in the giggle. She twists away from the sensation and Harry is grinning at her when she faces him.

His hand still on her shoulder and his body still pressed close to hers. He’s so warm and so close and so shiny new in her eyes, even if he still manages to irritate her. Her eyes flicker up to his as their laughter quiets down. She realizes her own hands have gone to his waist to steady herself and she follows his feet as he backs them up from the edge of the boat that she had brought them too.

It’s quiet again. They’re staring at each other intently. Her eyes are swirling with emotion because she just wants to know what’s going on in the brain of the man before her. She wants to know everything about him, but she knows that’s not how he feels about her. Sure, they’re friends now, but nothing else.

Why did she have to come on this stupid boat and find his stupid amazing music? Why did he have such a stupid amazing face?

These questions and other silly things were racing around her head as she gripped his waist. He didn’t mind her quietness, he found her gaze to be a little unnerving, but he was just glad he had made her laugh. He found that he didn’t enjoy her anger at him as much anymore.

Just as he was about to start another conversation, there was a cloud that drifted over the shining sun. It was her original fear come to life. Harry’s brows furrowed as he looked up at the clouds. They were turning grey. Fast.

“Shit, shit, shit,” He began mumbling and released his hand from her shoulder. He pulled away from her hold and began moving swiftly around the boat. He needed to get them off the water, there was a storm coming.

Her eyes went wide as she noticed the approaching storm as well. Her brows furrowed with worry as she watched Harry begin working on the boat, his only words being curses to himself at first.

Then he enlists her help, asking her to hold onto a specific part of the boat for him after he threw her a life vest and made her put it on. She wore it with great dissatisfaction. He only shrugged as he continued to move nimbly around the boat, turning them around, back to the dock.

The boat moved much swifter into the shore than it had on their way out. The waves were growing choppier by the minute and she would admit she was more than a little scared. Thankfully, Harry knew what he was doing and got them there quickly and safely. Once at the dock, he tied them there and then helped her off the boat. She stood on the dock uncomfortably as the rain started to come down.

“Give me your lifevest!” He gestures from the boat.

She quickly takes it off and flinches when the first bout of thunder sounds from far off. He takes it from her and throws it haphazardly down the hatch along with his own before jumping off the boat himself. He surveys the boat from the dock to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Then he looks at her. She’s wrapped her arms around herself and is ducking her head, looking like she’s attempting to ward off rain but failing miserably.

She looks up at him and he offers a soft smile of reassurance.

“Take my hand!” He shouts slightly over the growing sound of rain and thunder. He wants to get them out of the rain, but he’s also apprehensive to leave his boat to the mercy of the weather. Still, that’s all he can do.

She puts her hand in his and his fingers weave with hers. Then, they’re off racing back to their street in the little border town.

“I should go back to my place!”

“Don’t be silly! France is much too far for you to go in this weather!”

She laughs and grips his hand tighter as he fumbles for his key. His wet hand slipping as the rain droplets soak their clothes and skin. Even though her door is a mere few feet away she allows Harry to pull her into his shop. The warmth and dryness appreciated after running a few blocks in the now torrential downpour. There weren’t storms often in the little border town, but like the old adage said ‘when it rained, it poured’ quite literally. The less she had to travel in the rain the happier she was, even if it was three measly feet.

It also occurred to her that she’d be able to sit out her first storm with someone by her side. And she would admit that didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of storms and being in a new place with a storm she’d never weathered before was daunting. Harry inviting her in was a blessing. She didn’t have to be asked twice.

Once inside the little shop, their wet frames begin to form puddles beneath themselves. Harry sighs and takes off up his rickety stairs. She looks after him in confusion but stays put when he calls a quick “Wait there!”

She shakes a bit of the rain from her and shivers as she listens for Harry’s movements barely audible above the crashing of the rain water. When he returns, her breath catches in her throat, like she just choked on something, yet there’s nothing.

As he walks down the steps, far slower now, his wet hair shakes out around his head forming some ethereal halo. The light from upstairs illuminates him and the darkness outside casts an ominous darkness as he descends.

“Un ange…” She whispers after finally catching her breath.

If he hears her, it doesn’t matter. He’s already beginning to smile widely just from seeing Y/N before him.

He skips the last step and crosses to her swiftly. “Let’s get you dried a little more,” he begins to dote. A matching smile spreads on Y/N’s face out of appreciation. She still can’t manage to fend off the shivering and Harry’s smile falters. His hands leave the towel and trace her exposed skin. Her cheek feels like ice, only slightly warming under his touch.

“You need dry clothes,” he mumbles.

Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. He’s so close and so attentive and she wants to ask him to kiss her because they’ve been going back and forth all day, but he’s right she’s freezing. His eyes are so intense though she can’t even maintain eye contact. Instead her gaze flits up to the droplet beginning to swell down one of his rogue strands of hair that flopped over his forehead moments ago.

She doesn’t respond as she watches and Harry begins to worry more. Her eyes seemingly unfocused, her shivering, and her silence. He thumbs over the apple of her cheekbone and finally breaks her reverie. The droplet splashing between them without her as its audience.

“C’mon,” he tugs her hand now to bring her upstairs.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles series #little border town #harry styles one shot #harry styles af #ahghsgjfgkjdfkg #literal keyboard smash #its been so long #and no one is going to read #do y'all even remember me omg

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broadstbroskis · 4 years

Text

connected-pt 1 | auston matthews

an author’s note: so i’m here with my first multi-part fic (for hockey tumblr) and i hope after reading this, you’re all as excited about it as i am! i don’t anticipate it being super long- only like 4-5 chapters- but i am notorious for underestimating the length of things i write soo...(read that last bit as i’m planning on this not being long but plans change). i’d love to hear what you think!

-----

Toronto 2019

Never in a million years did you think you’d have to spend so much time having to avoid your ex-boyfriend from a semester abroad halfway across the world, and yet somehow, here you are, at a baseball game in Toronto, ducking behind a beer cart to avoid a guy you were once in love with.

“Is this necessary, YN?” Ashley, your best friend, hisses loudly, from her spot crouched next to you. She’d gone down with a loud shout when you pulled her behind the cart, attracting the eyes of the guy working the beer cart and a few people right near the two of you, but thankfully, not too many others.

The rest of the people around you were too busy staring at Auston fucking Matthews to care.

Of course, that’s where your eyes are focused as well, hoping the guy you’ve been desperate to avoid since your return and his arrival to your home city three years ago will move past this rush of fans quickly. There’s not a single part of you that thought running into this guy would be such a problem for you, considering that you met in Switzerland. And then Auston had been drafted to Toronto and you’d been annoyed, sure, but brushed it off- come on, the city’s huge; how often are you really going to see him?

All the fucking time, apparently. The universe is conspiring against you; Auston was somehow everywhere you were in Toronto. If your friends were out in a bar, the Leafs were walking in after a game that night. Somebody just heard about this great Thai place? Look who’s sitting at a table in the corner already. He’s at your favorite Starbucks, your least favorite Dunkin that you literally only go to in hopes of not seeing him at your favorite Starbucks, the cute little cafe that’s right down the street from your and Ash’s apartment.

At a freaking Blue Jays game that Ashley’s boyfriend got free tickets to from his dad. It’s getting a little out of hand.

“Man, YN.” Said boyfriend is looking down at you, unable to control his laughter. You’re used to it...as is he. The way the story goes is that Ash picked Ryan up one New Year’s Eve (sophomore year, the other of them usually chimes in when the story’s being told) and he’s stuck around ever since. He’s well versed in the duck and cover strategy of Auston Matthews avoidance. “I always knew you were a weirdo, but this is taking the cake.”

You shoot Ryan a grin from behind the large Molson-labelled ice bucket. “Cheers, Ry.”

Ryan grins back but it’s his brother, standing next to him that has the real grin. “Grab us a few beers while you’re down there, will you?”

“Uhh, sorry.” The voice comes from your other side and you look over to see the beer guy giving you a look. “No.”

“Sorry Jord,” You shrug apologetically to Ryan’s brother. “Caught in the act.” And then you turn your attention back to the beer guy. “Ok, but about those beers now?” Because you’re going to need them. “What’s the maximum number the four of us can get at one time?”

“Two per ID.” The beer guy is giving you a very concerned look but he’s not going to have to be the one hearing whispers of his ex’s name all game long, so you’re pretty sure it’s a valid question.

Ignoring the snickers of Ryan and Jordan behind you, you confidently (or as confidently as you can while still squatting behind a beer cart) ask, “8 beers please.”

“Hey!” Ashley protests.

“Fine.” You amend, looking at the selection in front of you as best you can. “7 beers and 1 seltzer?”

“Better!” She nods; her distaste for beer is pretty well known.

By the time you settle up with the beer guy, the crowd in front of you has thinned, which from past experiences is a pretty good indication that Auston has at least moved away from the area. But just to be certain, you poke your head around the corner of the stand first, and only once you deem it safe, do you stand up, your two beers in hand.

“Let’s go find our seats!” You grin cheerfully.

“We’re just...not going to talk about that?” Jordan looks between you, Ryan, and Ashley. “That thing where you two just spent ten minutes hiding behind a beer cart?”

“Don’t ask.” Ryan shakes his head quickly.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Ashley explains it away, eyes narrowed.

“Cool!” Jordan nods. “Yep, that explains everything, guys. Welp, we’ve got great seats, so we may as well go take them before YN can’t walk down the steps.”

“Huh?” You ask, pulling the beer down from your mouth. It’s halfway empty. “Are we leaving?”

Ryan laughs. “Make moves, YN!”

You follow Ryan and Jordan, chatting with Ash casually about plans for later, and so you’re completely surprised as the boys stop abruptly. “Uhh, YN?”

“What’s up?”

“I really didn’t know.” Ryan says, and he sounds so apologetic so you press your head forward to peek between him and Jordan and oh.

They’ve stopped right at your row, which is mostly full since the game’s just about to start. There’s four open seats, the last four in the row, but right next to those open four is a group of Toronto Maple Leafs, including one Auston Matthews.

Of fucking course.

-----

Zurich 2016

This might be the best chocolate you’ve ever had.

When you express the thought to Lina, your roommate during this semester abroad to Switzerland, shelaughs. “You’ve said that about every chocolate store you’ve been to!”

“Well, I really mean it this time!” You stick your tongue out jokingly at her and re-enter the store to buy some more.

It’s the middle of the day, mid-week, so it’s fairly empty as you make your way down an aisle and pick up a few things to snack on later. You even throw an extra bar of the one Lina had mentioned as her favorite, despite her teasing, because you know she’ll enjoy it later, and you’re so lost in thought over the choices in front of you that you completely miss the fact that there’s someone walking in the same aisle as you until you walk right into him.

“Ooof!” You manage as the two of you collide and he manages to steady the two of you, avoiding a fall. “Sorry!”

“English!” He gasps excitedly, which is...definitely not the response you were expecting to that.

“Um, yes?”

His dark eyes are absolutely shining as he beams down at you. “Oh, I’ve been dying to meet another one!”

And this is getting a little sketch. You take a large step backwards. “Um, great! That’s-”

“No wait!” In front of you, the smile turns to panic and your skepticism turns to confusion. “That wasn’t-I didn’t; let me explain.” Before you can say a word, he continues. “I’m here playing hockey and nobody speaks English, they all speak German. It’s just really exciting meeting another American!”

You eyeball him for a minute, trying to peel back your skepticism. It must be hard to be in another country, basically alone, where your people don’t speak the same language. Hell, you were having a hard enough time with some of your classes where they were speaking the same language, just with very thick accents. And you did have other people who spoke the language- Lina and her friends had been so welcoming and friendly...

You can feel the look fall off your face as it morphs into more of a smile. “Well here I am then! YN at your service”

He grins. “Hey YN, I’m Auston.”

#connected fic #auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #my hockey fics

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kairi-chan · 5 years

Text

Know Your Name - BoruSara

Genre: Romance / Humor

Rating: T

Sound Track: I Don’t Even Know Your Name by Shawn Mendes

A/N: Pop Star / Reporter AU for BoruSara, written for BoruSaraWeek19 D4 - Music

---

The crowd outside of The Leaf Hotel was getting thicker by the second, the low murmuring started to turn into an uproar when a fan found that the much-anticipated star was approaching.

“They pulled up for take-out!” She screamed, holding up her phone. “He’s having an Extra Spicy Thunder Burger!”

“Oh my god!” Another fan screamed. “That’s just right around the corner!”

High pitched screaming filled the street, photographers prepared their cameras, and the security took their positions by the pathway.

Sarada took a deep breath and sighed. The frown on her face was starting to look permanent. Her disdain for this crowd, Star and the whole situation just grew more and more by the second. The screaming was starting to give her a headache. Sarada massaged her temples.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Inojin grinned. “You get to see this pop star up close, get a pass,” he lifted his ID, and then wiggled his eyebrows at her, “And The Leaf Hotel serves the best food. I’m seriously just here for the food.”

She took a deep breath and gave him a look. “I’m not a feature writer!” She whined. “I’m supposed to be covering topics that will get me closer to that front page spread!” She threw her hands up in the air, and for a moment, Inojin felt concerned for the recorder in her hand. “Covering things like the crashing economy, dirty politics and—“

“—all the boring stuff,” Inojin snickered. “I know you’re smart and all, Sarada. But this could be front spread worthy, too.” He lifted his camera and nudged his head towards the crowd behind them. “Boruto Uzumaki is half French, half Japanese, and where did he make it big? America. Of all places.”

She rolled her eyes. The singer had blond hair and blue eyes. His style was so mainstream he could fit anywhere they sold overpriced coffee, avocado toasts, and morning cocktails. He sang about love, living young, wild and free. It was so typical pop. Sarada loathed the idea of having to listen to his songs, read articles about him, and follow his account a month before to prepare for this interview.

She loathed the idea until she actually started listening to his songs and liked them. Not like she would ever admit that out loud. Her editor would never live it down. His Instagram was also… fun to follow. He always posted silly stories, and his feed photos were always on point. He knew when to look goofy, natural, and hot.

“Oh come on, don’t pretend you’re not in the slightest bit interested.”

“I am not.” Sarada pushed her glasses back up her face and straightened her blazer and pencil skirt. “Let’s just take his photo while he enters and we do this interview, eat and we’re out of here.”

Inojin shrugged. “As long as we eat, I’m good. I’m gonna send Chubs photos to make her jealous.”

Sarada rolled her eyes and then laughed. “Okay, okay.”

The crowd started to scream and some of them pushed against the reporters at the back. The two of them were thankful that working for The Konoha Times gave them media passes and special treatment.

A shiny black limo pulled up, and the crowd went wild. Security had to push them back, and all the photographers started clicking away, filling the path with bright flashing lights. Inojin pushed a little forward to take a better photo, but Sarada hung back. She didn’t even bother to record any of the audio of things he might say as he greeted his fans.

Two bodyguards and a man with brown hair and a blue scarf came out first—his manager, Konohamaru—and then, the star of the night, Boruto Uzumaki, climbed out of the car. The crowd was hysterical. Sarada couldn’t help but roll her eyes for the nth time that night. She liked his music, and yeah, he was attractive, but she would be caught dead losing her cool like that.

Boruto looked a little different up close. He looked taller and leaner. His vibe was easy, and his grin looked even brighter if that was possible. He waved at the crowd and said a few words. Sarada couldn’t help but snicker when he switched from French to Japanese and then ended in English. His manager whispered something to him, and then he continued in English, with a tiny accent she couldn’t put her finger on.

It reminded her why her editor chose her for this assignment, because she could speak all of the languages he could, and was notorious for switching languages mid-sentence. It was a quirk that people initially thought was a PR stunt to make him look cute, but the more interviews he entertained, the more believable it seemed. He blew a kiss to the crowd and Sarada could have sworn someone behind her fainted.

She looked at the floor and sighed as she adjusted her glasses. When she looked back up, she and Boruto made eye contact for a split second but she could have sworn he was looking at her far longer than that. He wasn’t smiling anymore, instead, his lips were slightly parted, big blue eyes wide. Her face remained passive and then she tore her attention away from him to Inojin, who was telling her that they had to move to get into the Hotel.

Boruto was being pulled by his manager into the hotel as well. A bunch of other reporters scurried after Boruto and his team. Although Sarada and Inojin tried to make haste, the golden doors were slammed shut in their faces.

“I’m telling you,” Sarada held up her PRESS ID and gritted her teeth, “the two of us are part of the reporters cleared for an interview with Boruto and his team!”

The big security guard crossed his arms across his chest tightly, flexing his muscles. “And I’m telling you, you’re not on the list.”

“That’s impossible!” Inojin retorted. “We’re from The Konoha Times. We’re always on the list of press.”

“Tough luck, buddy. Not this time.”

Inojin continued to argue with the guard, and Sarada was on the phone, desperately trying to reach her editor, but to no avail. It was already past nine in the evening, and the group interview was over half an hour ago. They were all just probably having dinner already. This was horrible. They wouldn’t be granted passes if they weren’t cleared for an interview. The other rival publishers were there, and this article was needed by tomorrow morning.

Sarada needed to find a way to get in. She took a few steps away from the door to clear her head. Inojin’s screaming was starting to remind her of her Mama and Auntie Ino’s arguments. A few more steps and she stopped, as the soft scent of cigarette smoke floated to her nostrils. There was only one person she knew who would rather take a smoke than indulge in pleasantries over dinner. She ran to the corner and spotted him.

“Shikadai!” She grinned, so genuinely happy to see him.

He pulled the stick out of his mouth and blew the smoke away from her direction. He smiled lazily and nodded his head. “Ah, Sarada. I was starting to wonder when the Times would appear. But I was expecting Chocho.”

Sarada laughed. “Yeah, But she’s on leave so you’re stuck with me.”

He nodded his head and lowered his cigarette. “Right. And what’re you, miss Journalist, doing at this alleyway and not inside? Too flashy for you?”

“Ha-ha.” Sarada placed her hands on her hips. “It’s a long story but I need a favor.”

“Ooh,” Shikadai smirked. “Those are expensive.”

“I’ll give you a tip for the next dirty politician I expose,” she bargained.

“That’s pretty solid.” He laughed. “I was just gonna ask for a leak, but okay, sure. Let’s hear it.” He took a long drag and waited.

“I need you to get me and Inojin in there, as well as an interview.”

Shikadai choked and coughed the smoke out. “Excuse me, what? Why do you expect so much from me?”

“Someone forgot to include us in the list. I need an interview with Boruto before the night ends.” She placed her hands together and pleaded. “Please!”

He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can get you in, but I don’t think I can get you a private interview. I didn’t even get to ask a question.”

Her dark eyes went wide. She never backed down from a challenge. She had gotten interviews from senators, economists, even criminals. Surely getting one with a pop star wasn’t going to be so difficult.

He raised his hands up in surrender, “listen, I’m telling the truth. I can get you in the hotel, but I don’t even know if you can get close to him, let alone his room number. Security is tight.”

She pressed her lips together. “Try me.”

Boruto was showed to his room, one of the best suites in the house. His manager had the room on the floor below, and so did the rest of the team. He didn’t mind sharing, but Konohamaru always insisted he got his own so he could rest up properly. The last time he shared a room with his team, chaos ensued and they didn’t sleep until the sun came up, causing Boruto to look exhausted as hell the following day. Luckily it was a small event.

He looked around and took it all in. “Just another empty hotel room,” he whispered and walked over to the king-sized bed. He let himself fall on the mattress and sink in. Boruto closed his eyes and recalled the questions.

“What’s your next album going to be about?”

“Is it true you’re dating? Is it a boy?”

“Favorite song to play?”

“Who do you want to work with next?”

They were all the same typical questions. Shallow, about his dating life, or his sexuality. He rolled his eyes. When was he going to have a challenge for once? His manager and PR team trained him well, and how to dodge questions. His natural wit and charm had also gotten him out of a pickle on more than one occasion.

“There wasn’t even anyone hot,” he muttered. Some tabloids liked to send attractive looking reporters to try to distract him, but none of them ever worked. They just… weren’t his type. He could have any girl he wanted and has had a few encounters—under wraps, of course. Although not a secret enough for the world to think he was a virgin. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It just didn’t fit his image. He closed his eyes.

And then, a pair of dark eyes flashed across his memory, making him sit up, eyes flying open. “There was one!” He exclaimed to no one. He bit his lower lip, trying to remember. She was in the crowd, outside the hotel. There was a press ID around her neck, but he didn’t quite catch for which publication. She wore a pair of red glasses and she looked so… bored.

Boruto pouted. No one ever looked bored in his presence. She didn’t even bother to record anything…

He closed his eyes again, trying to recall if she was there during the interview and dinner. He couldn’t remember. After a while, he gave up and simply concluded, “Then I guess she wasn’t there…” he muttered. No way he wouldn’t notice her in that crowd. Plus, there weren’t many of them, anyway.

Why wouldn’t she be there, though? He shook his head and stood up. Why was he getting so worked up over a reporter? She wasn’t even there. Not even that pretty. Nope. She had long, black hair and wore a black pencil skirt and blazer, like those stiffs in his legal team. Or the dudes who do his banking for him.

Boruto took a deep breath and walked towards the shower, hoping that thoughts of the stiff reporter would wash away with the water.

It was easy enough for Shikadai to bring Sarada and Inojin in. All he needed to do was convince a waiter to help distract the guard long enough to sneak the two of them in. Shikadai gifted the waiter a coupon for a free issue of the next Rogue issue.

“Aww shit!” Inojin complained. “There’s no more food!”

Shikadai pitied the photographer, but he was getting worried about Sarada. She graduated in Journalism and was currently taking up law school. She part-timed in a local newspaper for a while and eventually got hired by the Konoha Times Magazine for her journalism work about a mayor’s corrupt business. It was dangerous, and she had taken on a number of threats for her work. Never did she looked bothered, or even showed hints of it. She was also a tough cookie herself… perhaps a little too tough. That look in her eyes… he knew that look and it scared him.

“Hey,” Sarada waved her hand in front of his face. “Since you’re spacing out, you better be thinking of a plan how to get me to his hotel room.”

Shikadai groaned. This woman was impossible. Was a tip really worth it? “Sarada, you’re being too troublesome. I got you in since we’re uni buddies. But getting that hotel room number is just—“

“I’ll ghostwrite for you.”

His dark eyes went wide and Inojin instantly shut up. Was Shikadai hearing this right? “Come again?”

Sarada’s face seriously meant business. “I’ll ghostwrite for you.”

“Duuuude!” Inojin nearly dropped his camera.

“I can’t do that,” Shikadai shook his head and took a step back. Even if the offer was tempting, that was too good to be true. It would help him when things were too busy for him. “That’s—you care about getting your name out there!”

She shrugged. “I can type up a thousand words in the back of a cab on my way to work…” she paused and looked at him, an easy smile on her face. “Are you really going to pass this up?”

“But…” oh shit. It was too tempting. “Your writing style…”

“Is flexible.” Sarada grinned. “Just let me read three of your articles and I’m good. You can always check it before passing it in, you know?”

“Duuuuude!” Inojin was now shaking his shoulders. “Getting Sarada to offer something like that is—“ he threw his hands up in the air. “What are you waiting for? Aren’t you sleeping with one of the girls on Boruto’s band or something?”

Sarada’s eyebrows shot up and a knowing smile grew on her face. “Oh really? That sounds interesting.”

Shikadai screamed internally and glared daggers at Inojin. “You promised!”

“Whoops. It slipped?” Inojin snickered.

“Okay, so…” Sarada held up one finger. “I give you a tip,” she held up another, “I ghost write,” and held up another, “and we don’t speak about this girl in front of Chocho.”

Shikadai felt like a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped on his head. If Chocho were to find out— “DEAL.”

The sound of running water mixed with soft pop tunes echoed inside the bathroom. Boruto leaned his weight on his arm on the wall and bowed his head, letting the warm water from the shower pour down his head. Little streams made a path down his hair, nape, and back. Others made their way down the sides of his face and dropped down to his chin. This particular playlist usually put him in a good and sober mood, yet he couldn’t get her out of his head, feeling drunk on the thought of what her name might be.

She didn’t look American. Definitely Asian. Yet, she was a little taller. Maybe she was mixed, like him?

Boruto turned the knob off and leaned his forehead on the cool, tiled wall. Why was he getting so caught up in this? She was just a reporter. She looked bored in his presence. Big deal. She might have just been tired. Or judging from her stiff-looking outfit, she just felt out of place.

He took a towel and dried himself with it, starting with his face, hair, torso and then legs. Boruto looked around for the bathrobe, but before he could grab it, his doorbell rang.

Boruto lifted a brow. “Who the hell could that be?”

Inojin was lagging behind. His legs were burning and his lungs were crying for more air. He held on to his camera with one hand, and to the handrail on the other. “Tell me… why… did we have to take the… service stairs?”

“Because—“ Shikadai grimaced and took a deep breath to steady himself. “This is the only way the cameras won’t see us until we approach Boruto’s room.”

“Who happens to be on the top floor!” Inojin cried.

“Stop your whining!” Sarada chided him, she also struggled to steady her breath. “Just a few more.”

“Why are you so bent on making this happen?” Shikadai raised his brow. “This isn’t even your article, is it?”

“It wasn’t,” Sarada responded and adjusted her glasses. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to half-ass it. Neither does it give me the license to slack off. I’m not going to get that front page unless I work hard.”

“Or is just fucking lucky.” Inojin rolled his eyes.

Sarada pursed her lips and held her tongue. She had other reasons for wanting to make this interview work. There was a betting pool going around the office who would be stuck in their current work and never make it big. To her surprise, she was in the pool. It hurt and outraged her. Chocho calmed her and explained it was because she always stuck to the same boring topics, and never ventured to try writing for other articles or covering other events.

“She’ll stagnate,” one colleague remarked. “People need to be flexible. Can’t have someone turning down assignments just because they don’t like the job.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the job, it’s just that she didn’t feel like she was the right person, with the right knowledge, to fulfill the job. What did she know about food blogging or makeup? Traveling and what to pack or look out for? She was studying law with a passion for economics. Her father was a big shot on Wall Street, her mother a successful surgeon. They each had their own passions and expertise, never bothering each other or even pretending to know better than the other in their field. But… Sarada’s colleagues did have a point. She needed to expand and show them that she can get out of her comfort zone and still excel.

“I’m going to make this interview the most talked about, hashtagged, trending shit in the world,” she swore to herself.

Boruto opened the door and what he saw astounded him, eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

The reporter he was just thinking of, now in a wrinkled blazer, sweat on her dark brow, and breathing heavily stood before him. She was holding up her ID for him to see and a smirk slowly grew on his face.

Boruto said her name, letting every syllable roll off his tongue, “Sarada Uchiha.”

She immediately closed her mouth and fought even harder to steady her breathing. Her dark eyes were wide upon hearing his voice. She cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s me.”

Serendipity was wonderful. He didn’t believe in destiny, but he knew this had to be it. Boruto just wanted to laugh but held it in by biting his lower lip.

“Would you please let me interview you?”

“Is that what you’re here for?” He couldn’t believe it. The girl he was thinking about was standing right at his door, and she wanted to interview him?

Sarada nodded. “Yes. May I come in? This won’t take long.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He stepped aside and she let herself in. He looked at her small figure standing inside his suite, still disbelieving the entire thing.

“Mr. Uzumaki, where would you—“

Boruto cringed. “You can call me Boruto.”

Sarada turned around to face him, eyes trailed down to his waist, before hastily looking away and pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “Umm. Right, then. You can call me Sarada.”

Boruto looked at himself and realized he was still in a towel. He was about to spazz and go on a full apology for being in a towel, but that pink dust on her cheeks… is she… blushing?

All his embarrassment washed away and his smug smile was back. “Alright, Sarada.” God. He loved her name. The way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue. “It’s nice to know your name.”

He relished watching her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. This was surely going to be an interview he wouldn’t forget.

“Shall we?”

Sarada nodded.

With one flick of his hand, he closed the door behind him.

To be continued.

---

A/N: This was a WIP sitting in my drive for months. I decided it would be perfect to use for the prompt -- Music. I’ll be continuing it another chapter to wrap up! Soon, when I get more free time to write. ^^;

Thank you for reading my fic, darling. If you like my stories, please check out my profile and check out the link to my masterpost. I also have links to my FFnet, Ao3, Twitter and Ko-Fi.

Write on, darling.

#borusara #borusara fic #borusara fanfiction #borusaraweek19 #borusaraweek #borusaraweek2019 #boruto #sarada #boruto uzumaki #sarada uchiha #borusara au #borusara popstar au #boruto x sarada #inojin #shikadai #fanfiction

111 notes · View notes

incarnateirony · 5 years

Text

S15 Spec/Discussion

So when the SPHT came out we all got to talking and I had some Thoughts(tm). Some of it is wildly speculatory but potential and interesting. I love the thinkie beans in my server.

I love our little roundtable of speculation and meta that routinely crops up, sometimes I feel like we should record it and make a podcast.

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:34 PM

IM YELLING SO MUCH YELLING “you cant do this to the fans!” “i can do anything. im a writer.” FUCKING CHILLS

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:36 PM

Jared's evil smirk has murdered me

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:38 PM

yesssss

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:38 PM

So we have Sam in a white suit MoC

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:38 PM

btw chucks lame ending is hilarious

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:38 PM

The colt

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

THAT WAS A THIng

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:39 PM

G L O R I F I E D F A N B O Y

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

I came out of aladdin to that

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:39 PM

IM SCREAMING

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:39 PM

Adam and most likely Michael taking in a diner Talking

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

Psfuck what anybody says the new aladdin is amazing

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:39 PM

Scruffy endverse Dean

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

I jave never Ever Seen such masterful seaming of cartoonverse cgi To real actorsHoly fuck me

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:40 PM

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT ALADDIN RIGHT NOW

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:40 PM

LMAO

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

I CAN DO BOTH LOOK

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:40 PM

I AGREE ABOUT ALADDIN

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I WISH I WENT TO THAT SHIT HIGH

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:41 PM

but JARED SMIRK IS MURDERING MEI CAN'T STOP LOOKING BACK AT THE VIDEO FOR IT

CastielYesterday at 9:41 PM

Yeah i intend to watch on pc when i canIm mobile rn

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:41 PM

And of course the crypt door being held shut with a screwdriver As direct14.10 parallel

CastielYesterday at 9:41 PM

Like we literally just left aladdin hence the yelling Yes yes Ive got him Im the cage Etc

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:42 PM

GlorifiedFanboy Is that not what I said friggin months ago?!

CastielYesterday at 9:42 PM

On brand a+ dean from whoever wrote that Ill guess Bobo or buckner For glorified fanboy line

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:43 PM

What? Do they read our tweets?

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:43 PM

lol

CastielYesterday at 9:43 PM

Bobo reads mine a lot?

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:43 PM

I stg I heard that line and almost screamed

CastielYesterday at 9:43 PM

I never did upload his nerdy video to me in hindsight

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:44 PM

Interesting that they didn't use a single shot of Alex

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:44 PM

No AlexAt all

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:44 PM

So it's not gonna be just a hallucination with burnt out eyes No Billie either

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:45 PM

No empty

CastielYesterday at 9:45 PM

No its full on chuck villain framing its my sound of war vid with s15 footage dhdhdhd

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

Yeah well it all blended into inky black at the end But that's hardly conclusive

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:46 PM

True

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

Since that happens a lot in trailers

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:46 PM

Maybe that’s for later in the season Or Maybe it’s a big secret

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

10 bucks says they abandoned the Cas deal And that's the hill I die on

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:47 PM

Bc that’s how they fight Chuck? They can’t abandon that already It’s too fresh

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

To me it read as a gateway to the Empty getting Jack

CastielYesterday at 9:48 PM

Placing bets now. Ep 1-3 is deancas tension over mary and jack and feeling distanced from the winchesters leaves eps 4 and 5. We know he works with sam at least briefly in 6. Deancas reunion in 7 midseason scheduled for 8 or 9. Deancas resolution then

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

Before they knew for sure

CastielYesterday at 9:48 PM

Midseason finale whatever theyre keeping in the door

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

That it was their final season To possibly stretch the plot accordeon

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:49 PM

Maybe final battle is with the empty and not chuck

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:49 PM

But now they've lost the need for a middle man ie Cas Nah

CastielYesterday at 9:49 PM

Id need more than a promo trailer to figure out if resolving cas is midseason or endgame

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:49 PM

Is amara coming back?

CastielYesterday at 9:49 PM

Yes

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Dabb confirmed it's early

CastielYesterday at 9:50 PM

And deans weird old friend

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:50 PM

She wasn’t there either

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Yeah 15.02 I think Or 04? Very early

CastielYesterday at 9:50 PM

Its as much a mood piece as a trailer

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Was that Becky talking to Chuck?

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

Yes

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:51 PM

I think so

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

You cant do this to the fans

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

ITS GLORIOUS

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:51 PM

It sounded like her

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

It’s her

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

We knew she was coming back Well

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

Yea

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

Speculated educatedly

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

I’m so mad! I was just about to go to bed!

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

When even the crazed fangirl looks sane by comparison

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

And they dropped this

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

Yeah I’ll never sleep now

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I HAVE TO

CastielYesterday at 9:52 PM

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

Nah I'll head to bed in a few

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

No. No sleep

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I’ve gotten no sleep the past three days

CastielYesterday at 9:52 PM

Points if they still frame it for a swipe at the bronlies like all the other becky jokes

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I find the fixation on the fan angle a bit weird

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

Yaaaaassssss

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

It seemed framed that way to me Min

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:53 PM

All the bronly jokes pls

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

But maybe I’m just reading it with my own bias

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

But it's only 2 pieces of Chuck dialogue so

CastielYesterday at 9:53 PM

Yeah

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:54 PM

And he’s a melodramatic fuck

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:54 PM

I’ll forever want to refer to him as “glorified fanboy” Put it on a shirt

CastielYesterday at 9:55 PM

God imagine chuck bringing back kevin as his prophet to take down his word as the gospel of winchester is designed to end only in being felled, and only by the glory of god. He cant finish off his own book to print the new gospel

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:56 PM

Here to say fuck you chuck

CastielYesterday at 9:57 PM

What if we big bounce and he dubs adam the new michael since we saw jack. Can convert humans to angels

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:57 PM

Megalomaniacal Michael?

CastielYesterday at 9:58 PM

Kicking down the castles in his own sandbox as revelations told before, before men found the new gospel of the glory of god. Revelations might not be a prophecy. It may be history.

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:59 PM

Interesting

CastielYesterday at 9:59 PM

Wildly speculatory and just playing but

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:00 PM

Oh the adam Michael idea

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:01 PM

I'm very glad about Chuck being in early episodes Adam is 100% gonna be Michael Cause all the summaries made it sound Like they weren't utilizing him

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:03 PM

It does sound like OG Michael is gonna be a real issue and it makes sense for it to be Adam

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:03 PM

CastielYesterday at 10:09 PM

WHICH THEY MYSTERIOUSLY PLUGGED AT THE END OF THE SEASON

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Yeah but he'd still be Adam and not Michael Just

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

if michael is useless to chuck as is, which he may or may not have been lying about MAKEA NEW

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Archangel Adam

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

MICHAEL YES

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Oh Doesn't fit with the pic above tho

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

Find another Eve. Oh look universal big bounce and I have a new mythology jazz hands Or better a Lilith Also this is literally unstoppable force immovable object logic if chuck can't destroy the human soulzapping the winchesters to death is just a stall game of exhausting futility they've proven they will inevitably doorkick down every afterlife or wherever they're cycled to what if there's like a hilariously extreme mystery spot where you see mini adventures out of whatever afterlife but eventually justtruncated to ridiculous extremes Chuck: -_-

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:18 PM

Like that's a given with all the scattered bits. Either Lucifer Sam and MoC Dean etc become big plot points Or they're part of Redux Mystery Spot

CastielYesterday at 10:18 PM

side eyes hidden mytharc uh

CastielYesterday at 10:18 PM

I really hope we didn't get the MOC Dean thing too close rip

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:19 PM

Why did you have to connect those two promo subplots for meW h y

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:20 PM

Also Cas next to that burnt up body I hope it isn't just Victim Of The Week

CastielYesterday at 10:20 PM

I'm wondering about the "arrogant betrayal" promo line on ep... 3 is it?

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

Yeah

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

Is it gonna be meaningful or is this like

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

Nah

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

bringing back Sergei

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

PR vagueblog

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

from his Byzantium bullshit

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

The BL ep is 15.02 tho

CastielYesterday at 10:22 PM

authors sometimes soak up impact of -- oh no

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:22 PM

What

CastielYesterday at 10:23 PM

okay so let's pretend say, bobo or whoever wanted to finish up buckleming's plot point, or at least partially since it's the tie up season, but they knew they had to write misha out for a few episodes and with deancas tensions driving Cas away already, throwing out a Going For Revenge That Will Backfire spin before storming out for a few eps

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:24 PM

But then it would be Dean not being able to forgive the "betrayal"It's gotta be something else Watch it be like

CastielYesterday at 10:24 PM

the betrayal vague blog is about sergei in that thing

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:24 PM

Kevin working for Chuck

CastielYesterday at 10:24 PM

it's the phrasing "arrogant" that catches me

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:25 PM

Most vague summaries hardly fit the actual plot points anyway It's just to sound mysterious

CastielYesterday at 10:25 PM

no but it would be easier to simply not apply an adjective "Castiel deals with a betrayal" is still vague

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:25 PM

Yeah but adjectives give oomph

CastielYesterday at 10:26 PM

arrogant is an odd idea for even the vague bloggiest vague blogger to tilt towards after skimming the content so I really doubt it's like kevin being forced to betray them or something like thatso unless it's about chuck himself, unlikely just too early for that level of RAAA

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:28 PM

Oh right didn't Misha say Cas struggles with this new Chuck reveal

CastielYesterday at 10:28 PM

well yeah thats kinda a duh

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:28 PM

I think the arrogant betrayal is in reference to Chuck

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:29 PM

So maybe it's just oddly phrasing that Yea

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:29 PM

It’s a kinda weird phrasing imo

CastielYesterday at 10:29 PM

like on the one hand cas knows Chuck isn't father of the year so I think on a personal level it's not surprising, it's more the existential level for him previously chuck was a shit dad that was just trying his best in a world far too easy to do his worst, even as god, thinking he was generally trying to be inherently good

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:30 PM

I hope Megatron comes back :)

CastielYesterday at 10:30 PM

that last scrap of faith is also kind of critically attached to his very existance because if god is evil and part of this cruel design what has his entire pre-winchester existence been, and even waxing and waning through it in his time with them

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:31 PM

Yeah I think deep down part of his core sense of self is the idea that he comes from the side of good

CastielYesterday at 10:31 PM

the fundamental loss of "god is good" is kinda quantifiably huger to him, whereas the humans more will have to grapple with "What is free will, did we ever have it"

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:31 PM

And this rips that away

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:32 PM

Unrelated but the promo sorta Nulls the early human Cas idea

CastielYesterday at 10:32 PM

yeah I noticed that, but it was odd

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Yeah I agree

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

i'm putting down at least foreshadowing then

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Unless they pulled all of the Misha footage From like ep 1 and 2

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

or chuck playing with the light switch for shits and giggles

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

He does still have that shotgun

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

we know cas has his coat back in like

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Watch Cas come back from his sabbatical

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

idkwe've seen him with it back

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

With his grace ripped out

CastielYesterday at 10:34 PM

put it in a karambit i mean what

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

Snort

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

NOT SURE MISHA CAN HANDLE THAT Like on a pure choreography level

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

Are you suggesting Misha isnt grace itself?For shame

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:35 PM

Not at all COUGH He has a cat-like agility

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:35 PM

LIKE A CAT

CastielYesterday at 10:38 PM

KSJDFksjdf I think younger misha could have but knowing he's always at risk of blowing out his hip probably not so much now like I feel that limitation in my soul

GarthToday at 6:17 AM

Okay so I don't think Amara is a made up character. I think she is Chuck's sister for real (or whatever they claim as siblings) but he used his story to trap her. Help fuel his plot.

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:17 AM

Like to me personally the option of Amara being made up has the best potential for an IC Chuck plot twist Esp since I still hold the idea that he lied about the universe going splat with his death"Writers lie"/"I'm a writer, I can do anything"

GarthToday at 6:18 AM

Well he did admit he's a liar rubs hands together This is gonna be so much fun

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:19 AM

GOD THAT LINE THO

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:19 AM

And that would be a Dabb level retroactive canon ramification Which is sorta his thing

GarthToday at 6:19 AM

Mwahahahaha and he said said to Becky while she went on about "you can't do this to the fans!"

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:19 AM

they make sense at least

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:20 AM

But I'm not sure they wanna go the route of Stripping a female character of her entire agency for male pleasure But I don't see a whole lot of options on how they take Amara out of the playing field Unless Chuck deadass eats her for the joint Godhead

GarthToday at 6:21 AM

Honestly he just might

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:22 AM

But that's like DBZ power level bullshit

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:26 AM

AU!Dean who's a baddy pls

GarthToday at 6:26 AM

Damn trailer successfully tripping us up

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:27 AM

Deadass just have pull the jackass from the 5.04 reality Maybe that's why Lucifer Sam is tied to a chair as well Like Chuck just put him in white clothes to paint a big target for endverse!Dean And it's actually just Sam

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:28 AM

yeah that was my thought too

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:28 AM

BUT THAT IS THE SORTA SPECC THAT'S USUALLY TOO VAGUE FOR ME ALREADY And was that Singer Salvage?

GarthToday at 6:28 AM

We're just throwing things out there and laughing It looked like it might be

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:29 AM

BEN JUST LET LOOSE BUD ITS OK

GarthToday at 6:29 AM

But the new building is throwing it off

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:29 AM

THE CRACKIEST SPEC THE BETTER

GarthToday at 6:29 AM

Something else could have been built thoIt's been yrs

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:29 AM

LOOK MY WHOLE THING IS DOING ANALYSES BY GATHERING EVIDENCE THAT SUPPORTS MY ARGUMENT IT'S SEARED INTO MY BRAIN More cage imagery

12 notes · View notes

unimpressedperson · 5 years

Text

ishin-denshin

(I found that picture in @seoulicons . Thank you for posting that)

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: I mentioned Expensive Girl and sex, so yeah, nothing here is pure. Also, there are mentions of self-harm, so please, if it’s triggering tell me and I’ll change it :) Your mental health should always come first :)

Pairing: Min Yoongi x @emerson-moonchild, Min Yoongi x Reader

Word Counting: 6.2k

Synopsis: Min Yoongi and Emerson had a profound connection, so deep and supernatural that not even themselves understood it. However, nothing is pure bliss and flowers, when everything seems wrong and the connecting fades with time, then their love shall be proven with no otherwise.

A/N: Hey Em!! It’s finally here! I finished your oneshot + poem. Yes!! I mentioned The Chaos Club and paired them with BTS, but tried not to focus on them. Even though it finished with over SIX THOUSAND WORDS, I had to stop myself and not include random and unnecessary stuff, like interactions between characters without the starring roles presence (Yoongi and Emerson). Oh, before I continue, I changed the band’s name, it’s shitty, but I even wrote one verse of ‘Clarividencia’ (the BTL song mentioned). Hope it’s good! You deserve the best Em, or should I begin calling you ‘cutie pie’? Lol Sorry for my bad grammar and hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing :)

- x - x - x -

Min Yoongi took a long sip on his coffee, dark and, ironically, sugar-free. He enjoyed small ironies and always drank from them, maybe it worked as fuel to his personality. Despite from the cute face and artistic name, Yoongi enjoyed how people were amazed about the personality flashed: rebel, serious, sarcastic, a human with a stone cold heart pumping blood and rage to his organs.

Well, that's how outsiders saw him, reality was insanely different. Emerson knew it, she dig down so deep in Yoongi's emotions, finding a butter heart with so much love stored. Whilst drinking tea from a ridiculously adorned cup, she analyzed his soft expressions and occasional wrinkling nose whenever the bitterness hit his taste buds.

– Tea is just leaf juice, you know, right? - Yoongi asked, not glaring straight at Emerson.

– So what? It's delicious. - Emerson answered, taking a long and loud sip from the salmon and cream coloured cup, raising her pinky. - Coffee is just juice from beans. Water is juice from ice cubes.

– You are so british sometimes. - The man said and turned to look at Emerson, grinning slightly at her cuteness and rosy cheeks.

– Well, my identity backs you up on that. I'm british, living in London, drinking tea in a british coffee shop, listening to british news on television, presented by a british journalist, graduated in a british university, working for a british television broadcast channel. You are the foreigner here, love. - She said serious, but smiling, fingers stuck around the cup, steam warming her face.

– I know. Everything is so british. Even our songs are getting british. - Yoongi said and finished his cup of coffee with a short sip. - Yesterday Taehyung sang with british accent, even the verses in korean. We were surprised and Namjoon almost collapsed cuz one of the words sounded like 'yadong', which is porn in korean.

– I'm surprised one of your songs never mentioned 'yadong', since it's a rock band with pretty explicit musics. - She giggled remembering the first time Yoongi allowed her to listen 'Expensive Girl', their first song that exploded in SoundCloud, and as soon as Bangtan Lads made a career outside Korea, the track was deleted, only officially existing in personal files from every member.

– Don't you throw 'Expensive Girl' at me, it was Jin and Namjoon's idea to release it. - Yoongi said and raised one of his eyebrows slightly.

They were sitting on a table close to the window, sun shining bright outside, breaking through the typical whitish smoke accumulated all over London's atmosphere. The cafè was one of those overrated places, charging abusive prices for a cup of plain coffee, walls painted in a very dirty shade of cream, matching the fancy cups (the owner would never admit it, but Emerson knew they were bought in Walmart, part of a special edition paying homage to Duke William and Duchess Kate wedding), wooden floor well polished, and secondhand machines.

– Why do we insist in coming here anyways? There is nothing special or marvelously tasty, and the prices are salty, even for my rich ass. - Yoongi said, listening the annoying creek sound from the old, and possibly thriftshopped, brown chair.

– Because it's small, quiet and mainly because your fans won't flash boobs outside the window, since they would never imagine rockstar Min Yoongi having a coffee with his girlfriend in a place like that. - Emerson said, staring the street along with Yoongi.

– Yeah, that day we went to Starbucks was insane. Who would imagine someone is actually willing to lift the blouse and get arrested in exchange of an autograph? - Yoongi said and chuckled.

– That day was intense and weird. Her boobs were beautiful, though. Round and symmetrical. Your face tattooed on the nipples also looked good. - Emerson said and smirked in a dorky way, leading Yoongi to chuckle even louder. - Who would ever guess that your nose has the exact shape of a nipple? The fan was a genius, we got to admit.

Yoongi left all the weight from his upper body heavy on the chair back, staring at the ceiling and inhaling deeply, exhaling and repeating. He swallowed a puddle of spit pooling on his tongue and looked back at Emerson, finishing her tea with a short sip and folding back the napkin.

– Fame is so good sometimes. Don't take me wrong, I love making music, being rich and travelling around the globe, but the occasional harassment bothers a lot. - Yoongi said tapping his fingers on the table.

Emerson reached his arm and caressed lightly the skin covered with a sweatshirt. Yoongi inclined to the side, laying his head on table, feeling his girlfriend's fingers petting his black hair. Sometimes words weren't required, silence had a lot to say, loud, actions could hold even more significance.

– I love you, cutie pie. - Yoongi mumbled, cheeks squeezed against the wood, but words still bright and clear.

– I love you too, Yoongles. - Emerson replied, still feeling his smooth wires against her skin. Soft touches coming from both sides.

Whoever saw Min Yoongi up spitting on a microphone, saying raw words about political struggles, sex, mental health, life and a few songs based on stories, possibly thought of him as a rough person. No one would ever imagine his soft side, everyone always glanced over and focused on Suga, not Yoongi. The opposition between personality shown and stage name enchanted and intrigued.

Yoongi only allowed a few people to witness his actual personality.

Opening up and letting someone unknown in his personal space, oh it always represented a problem to Yoongi. A lonely soul that hardly had friends, only close to a few people. Bangtan Lads represented friendship and family.

Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook, Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung flew from Korea to England with him after achieving worldwide success, for the sake of their fame moving to a place rather connected to alternative rock sounded as a clever change. Seven korean boys, carrying a bag with worn-out clothes, instruments and golden discs. Simplicity and luxe. Millions of fans, artists and new faces, yet Yoongi only felt truly comfortable around his bandmates.

After a few months living in England, conceding daily interviews and working like horses in new musics, Yoongi decided to try and join a dating app. Hoseok met a few women through Tinder, but happily found Taylor, friends with benefits at first, but a few months later his girlfriend. Witnessing one of the lads glad in a relationship inspired Yoongi, he even paid for Tinder Gold, regretting immensely after two dates and realizing sex could be good, but lacked connections. He needed to connect with that person, deeply to a point where her heartbeat felt like music.

Lonely and slowly giving up, Yoongi felt his heart flutter when Emerson appeared like a butterfly on his eventful yet boring life. Emerson emerged from a calm life working as music critic for Rolling Stones, to the love of Yoongi’s life and his main inspiration.

Everything began when Emerson went to work and received the task of interviewing a korean band. Apparently someone was sick and everyone else had more important stuff to do. She accepted and decided to use the original agenda, adding a few questions and studying every member.

Those who believe would say it was love at first sight, a connection between souls. Not even a word flew across the room, but Yoongi felt butterflies on his stomach and heart beating faster. For a single moment, he even considered the idea of end having a heart attack, because in years no one ever made him feel like that. Emerson lost words and suddenly, there were only Emerson and Yoongi in a room, not the whole Bangtan Lads.

That same day they had dinner together. Chatted, danced and traded cellphone numbers. Instead of going back to his place, Emerson took him to her home and they watched a movie.

For the first time in a almost a whole year living in England, Min Yoongi felt a connection.

- x - x - x -

– I swear that Zeus’s nutsack is the best position ever. - Namjoon said and threw the notebook in Jungkook’s direction, watching him grab it and read all lyrics written down.

– And why should we sing about that? - Seokjin asked raising one eyebrow, expression deadly serious, grabbing his can of Coca-Cola and sipping from the white straw. - I love doggy style, but would never write a whole goddamn song about it.

– I agree with Jin, the world doesn’t need to know what you and Bárbara are up to. I never wanted to know. - Taehyung said and nodded in Jin’s direction, whilst curling a lock of brown hair on his fingertip. - Honestly, I think you need vacations, your ideas are getting cornier, hornier and grossier.

– Let the man live, you guys! - Hoseok said and took the notebook off Jungkook’s hand, being punched in return. - I don’t even know how the fuck is Zeus’s Nutsack, but if our smartpants wants to write about his experience, allow him to do so. - He gazed down at the lyrics on his hands and chuckled. - Sorry Joon, but this time I’m with Tae and Jin, I won’t sing it.

– Please guys! We are an alternative rock band who has three songs about sex, we need something to bring sexy back during the concerts or fans will feel bored. It’s been two tours since Jimin showed his abs during ‘Clarividencia’ for the last time. People are commenting on Twitter. - Namjoon said and pouted.

– Let’s vote. It’s a democracy, isn’t it? - Yoongi asked, emerging from his big and fluff chair and bending down, his upper body supported by the elbows firmly planted on his skinny thighs. - I vote to burn that shit and never mention it again.

Everyone in the studio laughed, except for Namjoon, he shrunk on his spot and turned the page, sketching and randomly drawing circles, looking for inspiration in something other than intercourse. Yoongi watched everyone leave the studio and sat beside him.

– Remember when we first recorded a full-length album and korean managers wanted us to become a pop? They saw potential in every single one of us, but wanted a profitable artist. - Yoongi laid his head on Namjoon's shoulder. - Thankfully we took our content and moved to an indie recording studio. Can you possibly imagine us as Bangtan Sonyeondan? BTS not BTL? We discussed the idea, and the first sketch of success wasn't the right one. Maybe that song is like BTS, a bit more of thought and time may turn it into BTL.

– Are you saying that I should focus less on the movements itself? The song is pretty explicit, so should I use better metaphors? - Namjoon asked, still not looking at Yoongi, but the older man saw a sparkle run through his eyes, like a lightbulb shining with new ideas flowing through his synapses.

– We can work on it later, right now I want to prepare a surprise to Emerson. Can you believe we've been together for 5 years already?

– Yeah, half a decade. - Namjoon said, sighing deeply. - What do you have in mind?

– I'm gonna propose. - Yoongi smiled, a gummy grin with feelings running off the edge. - I've been planning it for two years now. When we completed our third anniversary, Emerson wrote a post on her personal Tumblr about our relationship, mentioning a few situations and funny moments from day to day. That same day I wanted to make a song, but it's easy, within hours I could finish a masterpiece and the effort would be almost none, so I decided to step up my game a little and began writing a book. Poems about her, our partnership, my feelings, everything.

– It's really thoughtful of you, Yoongs. - Namjoon wrote a few random lines on his notebook and turned to look at his friend. - And some folks still dare to claim you are not a romantic guy.

In fact, not even Yoongi saw himself as someone surfing on romance, usually writing about politics and books. Focusing in feelings and matters related to relationship never appealed. He became responsible for most tracks talking about issues of immigrating from Korea to England, emphasizing that fame changed how they saw him, but xenephobia still existed. Bangtan Lads received a Grammy Nomination for ‘Golden Borders’, a whole album shoving in people’s ears how shittily they treated immigrants, but still wished from heart to live in USA.

Using ‘Golden Borders’ as the soundtrack, Emerson made researches and released a documentary about immigrants, showing the ridiculous racism and highlighting double-standards in how right-wing parties treated foreigners victims of war and those just running from economic crisis, but still wealthy. She also reported how politicians like Donald Trump vertiginously changed the meaning of “immigrants”, not differing someone legal from the illegals.

Yoongi was possibly the proudest boyfriend ever accompaining his significant other during the premiere of ‘Invisible: The Truth on Immigrating’. Emerson invited a few famous people who immigrated from their home-countries, along with “common” folks.

Maybe he wasn’t the most romantic boyfriend ever, but still knew how to encourage Emerson. During their relationship, Yoongi convinced her of writing two books, one script for a movie, produce two documentaries and demand her own column on Rolling Stones site. Whilst she inspired and gave ideas to two albums which earned them four Grammy Awards, abetted him into trying something solo, and produce for different artists aside from BTL.

Even though both of them worked massively with media, Emerson and Yoongi never thought about conceding interviews as a couple. Daily invitations for appearances in shows together popped up on their e-mails, but without discussing it they already knew the answer: No.

When asked the reason, Emerson and Yoongi agreed to keep their personal life, well, private. They already shared a few cute moments on Instagram and Tumblr. Why would someone want to dig more into the relationship? Snooping isn't good.

- x - x - x -

– In conclusion. Communism wasn't planned for over populated countries, or planets. - Jade said and chopped in two the turkey sandwich she was holding, taking a bite from one half of it.

Emerson shrugged her shoulders and nodded, agreeing with Jade. Accompanied by Shmailah and Zariah, they were waiting for the reunion with some other journalists from Rolling Stones. The weekly meeting for coming up with ideas to articles, reportages and new ideas for photoshoots to use in scheduled interviews, was about to happen, but only a few professionals were already there.

Usually, the boss bought some goodies to complement and cheer every meeting, but that day in question had food and sandwiches provided by a new diner across the street. They were lolling on burgers, sandwiches and chips, also milkshakes and cherry fizzy drinks.

– My article about nigerian culinary is going smooth. - Zariah said and took a sip from the vanilla milkshake in front of her. - That restaurant I contacted to ask for primary informations, the old lady sent me fried yams. I’m totally sending her a Christmas card and gift, and candy canes for her grandchildren.

– Great! It's so nice when someone values our work and spoils us with small, yet adorable gifts. - Emerson said and dipped one chip in the ketchup sauce. She was sitting curled up, knees touching her chest, not very excited. - By the way, mine about Bollywood is almost done, but I need some new informations. Can you help me, Shims?

– It's not right to assume I know a lot about Bollywood, only based on my bangladeshi heritage… But yes I’m a fucking Bollywood nerd and would love to help. - Shmailah grinned perversely, caressing Emerson's cheek with love, noticing that she seemed a little down lately. - What's up, Em? You don't seem very happy, not even surrounded by your best friends and a whole lot of free junk food.

The parallel conversation between Zariah and Jade quit, suddenly all three pairs of eyes were gazing at Emerson, who felt her cheeks getting warmer. She took another chip and started talking, whilst shaking the potato around, like a wand, before taking a bite and continuing.

– I don't think Yoongi loves me anymore. - She sniffed, swallowing the growing knot in her throat with chips. - We've been together for five years now, but in the last few months he's been a little distant. I know, I know, Yoongi sometimes loses himself inside his own brain, but not distant like that. Far, you know? We used to be so connected, now that connection seems a little faded.

– Oh Emerson. I don't see that happening, ever. - Jade said, bending over the table to grab her fries-less hand. - Yoongi seems so passionate about you. Whenever we go out in group, he only has eyes for you. Like, when Yoongi notices you barely had the opportunity to speak, he always tries to bring you into the conversation. Jimin already witnessed your boyfriend getting distracted and spend several minutes staring at his lockscreen, which is you.

– Totally agree with Jade. Not even dead Yoongi would stop loving you, he would probably find his way back into our spiritual plan only to make sure you are aware of his love. - Shmailah said, watching a shy tear run down Emerson's rosy cheek

– It's so complicated. In the past two months he spent days without showing up at our place, and not caring to tell where he is. Whenever he is around though, the office's chair receives most attention, since Yoongi locks himself there and if I try to get in, he scouts me outside saying it's something related to work. - Emerson tried to swallow the knot again, but now not even milkshake worked, and she sobbed. - Why couldn't I see if it is about work? When he was recording and producing his solo mixtape, I slept on the studio's couch for four days straight, trying to support him. I'd never do anything to ruin whatever he has been working on. We had coffee today at a cafè, but the experience felt so shallow. Small, verging insignificant, talk.

– I’m so sorry to hear that, baby. What if he’s been working in something for you? Like a gift and doesn’t want you to see and spoil the surprise? - Jade asked, raising one eyebrow. - You shouldn’t conclude always the worse, sometimes it is just something you can’t put immediately put together. Consider it and give time to time.

The conversation silenced in the moment everyone else invited to the meeting showed up. Seven other journalists gathered, including the boss, whose appeared holding another tray full of cookies and cupcakes.

– For what it seems like, that diner also has bakery goodies. - Jackie, also know as The Boss, said pushing the tray up on table. - I love so fucking much my job. Whoever don’t can totally stand up and leave, more cupcakes and chips for me, há!

- x - x - x -

Emerson had no time to think about her situation with Yoongi during the afternoon. Work consumed every disposable piece of brain cell, fulfulling a whole week of articles for her column and completing one reportage about self-made millionaires.

However, after leaving the building and heading home, the empty apartment made her shatter out and cry, sobbing and feeling a sudden urge to destroy something. Not only a random object like a glass cup, but something stiffier and harder to fix, like herself. In years working, dating Yoongi and being friends with so many great people, she never felt that need again, honestly, considering the idea of hurting her own body sounded weirdly appealing, after so much improvement, going back felt like a failure.

Maybe the past years left her brain so occupied with every new information, that negative thoughts had no actual space, a little tab in the corner that was muted by Yoongi’s voice. Now, without his presence and strong connection, Emerson silenced all other tabs, only listening to the one where haters were loud, depression and self-harm spoke freely.

Years of self-improvement faded within a pinch, a thin drop of blood coming from her thigh stained the beige pants, and Emerson left the small, yet painful, piece of skin go from between her long nails.

Weak and sobbing, she reunited all forces and stood up from the front door, walking slowly in bedroom’s direction, wishing only to lay down, curl up inbetween the duvets and sleep, ignoring any bad temptations, observing them disappear along with conscience.

Old monsters, some she saw as teenage ghosts, showed up. Emerson felt stupid for harming herself over such a small reason. Independent woman, smart, successful, amazing close friends, and yet the major breakdown in years was happening because of a man. What kind of mean joke could that be?

She wished so hard to pull herself together again, living happily and not getting to precipitated conclusions over small situations. That's it, maybe she was only overreacting. What if she is not? What if the connection between them is, indeed, fading? What if? What? What?

What was their mistake?

What was her mistake?

Was there a mistake?

Cruel trick her own brain was playing. Blackjack with sanity. Poker with happiness. What did she had to bet? Of course, Emerson conquered a lot in years, how much of that could she lose? Golden Globe? Literature prizes? All had her name embedded in wood. Friendships? Weekly night-outs proved that their bond didn't change within years. Why then only Yoongi seemed to slip through her fingers? The only thing she would miss the most, fading like smoke on the water.

Sometimes, the smartest, strongest, toughest people can go through menaces with delight and peace. Though, their inner monsters exist, and can seem small for whoever witnesses from outside, but a spider is a huge matter to a fly. Struggles and fears, perspective changes them.

Judging someone's feelings and fright isn't up to us.

- x - x - x -

That night Yoongi meant to crash down at the studio, but Namjoon showed up close to midnight, accompanied by his girlfriend, a small and chubby woman with wild brown hair, and also followed by Jimin and Jade, Jin and DiLayla. Their Instagram revealed that everyone had dinner, sponsored by a fancy restaurant trading food for audience.

– Why is everyone here grating me with the grace of your presence? Is there a party happening in my studio and I'm not invited? - Yoongi asked sarcastically, saving the new poem written before anyone could ruin it.

– Cut it out, Yoongi. - Jade said taking her thick beige coat off, leaving it on the black couch. - Don't you think you've been spending way too much time working? Stuck in your office or studio?

Her tone seemed mysterious, as if she meant something more than what was actually voiced. Yoongi felt intrigued watching everyone getting comfortable. Were they intervening?

– What is that? An intervention? I don't do drugs. - Yoongi joked, only him laughing, everyone else seemed morosed.

– See Yoongs, we were having dinner and suddenly Emerson became a subject of discussion. - Jin spoke trying to look chill, but very tense. - Jade mentioned that Emerson has been feeling a bit… Ignored lately. Bárbara and DiLayla agreed...

– Let me speak, love. - DiLayla touched Jin's shoulder and stood up. - Emerson mentioned to us that you’ve been working way too much, even at home, and she thinks you don't love her anymore. Basically, she feels like your connection is slowly vanishing.

– Namjoon told us what you've been planning for proposing to her, and honestly, I will take note and use a few of your ideas someday. - Jimin gave a side grin to Jade, watching how she blushed and continued. - But maybe, just maybe, you focused so much on something to her, that kind of forgot her? Not literally, we know you love Emerson with every beat of your heart, your maeum [마음, something like feelings], but you know, you can't starve a man before feeding him…

– What? Emerson is feeling neglected? - Yoongi asked, chocked and feeling his heart breaking.

Yoongi turned the chair around when tears verged to fall, not wanting to face his friends whilst crying. Jin, Jimin and Namjoon only saw him emotionally shattered in two situations. Feeling raw and vulnerable always made him uncomfortable, mainly being stared by people he had no intimacy, like his friends’s girlfriends, they were cool, but not close enough to watch him with guards down.

The young man hated this aspect of him. He despised how inadvertently his mind let things pass without noticing, facts around that could vastly affect his life, personal or professional. Having Emerson always picking up on him about unhealthy habits made it easier to don't die after spending three days living off hard liquor and olives, and overworking.

He wasn't someone mindless, or easily distracted, but Emerson helped him to focus in more than one thing at once, like working, but still resting enough, or channeling the best from every situation. Hiding something from her, avoided the warnings. Without realizing, Yoongi evicted his girlfriend from working aspects of him.

Maybe Jimin was right. He focused so much in doing something for Emerson, that he forgot to live with Emerson.

Goddamn it, Yoongi!

Namjoon looked around and politely asked everyone to leave the studio for a moment. He pulled a chair and sat beside Yoongi, caressing his trembling shoulder.

– I don't think I ever saw you crying over something so simple to solve. - Namjoon whispered, still petting his friend's shoulder. - You know nothing is lost and what to do is actually easy. The solution may ruin a huge surprise, but it is going to soothe a small injure caused by itself.

– What if Emerson has been considering to break up? Oh fuck, Joon! What if I ruined it all? - Yoongi used his sleeves to dry off his tears. - What if everything is so lost that not even all poems I wrote could fix it?

– See, a few weeks ago me and Barbs were talking about couples that gathered together along the past years. - Namjoon said and stopped caressing Yoongi's shoulder. - First, Hoseok and Taylor, then you and Emerson, Jade and Jimin, Di and Jin, me and her, Zariah and Jungkook, and Shims with Tae. I think we created an equilibrium in universe. Everyone is such a great and right match that if at some point one these couples break up, a new Big Bang would happen, cuz the mutual decision could ruin the universal balance.

“I'm not being far-fetched, I swear in the name of Stephen Hawking. - Namjoon spoke and made a cross in his chest. - Sometimes a long-term relationship can go through challenges. Two different people sharing a life of experience cannot live without occasional fights, bickering or arguing. We are human, even the most rational ones can be stubborn. All you have to do is insist. Although, it seems like Emerson loves you as much as you love her, so the only struggle here is distance.”

– You are right, but I’m still feeling like a sucker. - Yoongi snuffled, cleaning the coryza from his runny nose. - But as Emerson already told me, I should learn from my mistakes, then use it on an inspirational song, making my fans wander on what actually gave me the idea to it. - He grinned passionately and turned his cellphone screen on, staring at the lockscreen: a stunning picture of Emerson in Japan, smiling, using a flower crown and surrounded by cherry blossoms. - I love her so much.

Next thing processed by cameras around the building was a very hurry Yoongi grabbing his stuff, leaving a group of friends behind. A determined face, quick steps and then driving fast through the parking lot, tyres screaming like Robert Plant in the beginning of ‘Immigration Song’.

- x - x - x -

Emerson woke up in a startle after hearing the front door banging loudly. Still sleepy, she had no energy to stand up and check what was happening. Sleep whilst crying is exhausting, you wake up psychologically weary. After a few minutes and heavy steps, she heard someone calling her name, more specifically, Yoongi calling chanting her name.

She stood up, bringing one of the duvets along, and walked to the room, where Yoongi was crouched down, sitting on his calfs, typing something on the laptop he settled on the coffee table. When the man side glanced Emerson, he got up on his feet and hugged her, feeling his heart shatter with the small, yet present, dot of blood staining her beige pants.

– I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please… - Yoongi whispered, trying not to cry again, not before actually accomplishing his new goal for the night. Also, his mind was worried about the blood on her leg. - Did you hurt yourself, baby? Oh fuck, did you?

– Why? What did you do? - Emerson questioned feeling his arms around her, resisting before letting the duvet down and hugging him back. - I pinched myself a little too hard, but I swear it wasn't serious. Sorry...

– I was distant and absent from your life, and now you are convinced I don’t love you anymore. - He swallowed the knot on his throat, still trying not to cry. - It’s so dumb, because the only thing I love more than you is my music, but you are the inspiration for my work, so you are my music… And I made you hurt yourself.

– No, please Yoongles, it was a small relapse. Not worth of a fuzz. It won't happen again. - She felt his uneven heart beat against her ear, touching his chest. - Who told you that? Who told you how I was feeling? - Her arms quit hugging him, a tension running through both bodies.

– I don’t know, today I was finishing a project for you in my studio and Namjoon, Jin and Jimin showed up, they were accompained by their girlfriends. They told me how you were feeling and made me realize how far I’ve been, and how cold I acted earlier. - He seemed uncomfortable revealing his sources of information, but the truth would end up appearing anyways.

– Wait a second… - Emerson dried the single tear left running down her cheek and stared Yoongi. - Have you been working in something for me? Like, a surprise? A gift?

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and nodded. His mind was hazy and the urge to just kneel and propose to Emerson without previous background was slowly taking over his guts. He couldn’t predict her reaction, since every brain cell were occupied on finding the right words. Fortunately, the woman grinned shyly and blushed, gazing down on the laptop.

They sat down in front of the open laptop, his arms around her shoulders. Yoongi sighed and pressed the ‘enter’ key, watching Power Point opening and a clear book cover appeared, mint coloured like his hair.

The book Yoongi worked for two years was almost ready. Whilst looking for good names and aesthetics a japanese word loomed from his pre-teenage memories: ishin-denshin (以心伝心) and his book title fitted like a glove. A compilation of poems and the last one, in Yoongi’s humble oppinion, the most majestic one was named after the piece itself. He planned on proposing whilst reading to Emerson.

– You asked me nothing, but I feel the need to explain what’s in front of you. - Yoongi cleared his throat, watching Emerson’s eyes scanning the screen. - My gift for our fifth anniversary was a book. I’ve been planning it for two years now, and in the last two or three months I reached the final details, which were cover and last poem. I never allowed you to see it, because I wanted it to be a surprise. I guess old habits never die, because during the time spent working on that book, I isolated myself from you and gave a wrong impression. Sorry.

– It's so beautiful, even though I don't even know what the title means. - Emerson said and sobbed, smiling through tears. - If the whole book is in japanese, then it would be good if you taught me how to read.

– Oh, cutie pie. I love you so much. - Yoongi snorted and kissed the top of Emerson's head, whose felt so loved, more than she felt in months. - It's, indeed, in japanese. Ishin-denshin, it's a kind of interpersonal communication, unspoken, but the understanding is still mutual. Something like, heart transmits what mind thinks. That word was a trend back in my pre-teenage years, never thought I would use it.

Emerson turned to look Yoongi. His eyes were watering, but no tears falling. She smiled, happily and kissed him. In months, they kissed plenty of times, but none of them had the same meaning as this one. It wasn't sexy or teasingly, if we are going to be honest, the kiss was salty with tears and, well, coryza. Emerson and Yoongi were slowly reconnecting.

The kiss stopped when their lungs claimed for air. After a few smooches, they got back to stare the screen.

– I love you so much, Yoongles. - Emerson felt a magnetic force making her back look for support on his chest, diminishing the space between them. - I know it's dumb, but I firmly believe we are soulmates, there is a supernatural connection between us, and considering the idea of losing you… it made me so desperate and sad. I know I would keep living, but my soul would never feel completed again.

– I know baby, I feel the same way, but instead of voicing my feelings, why don't you read a few poems I wrote? -Yoongi leaned and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders again, smiling passionately whilst seeing skinny knees touching the chest, covered by a fluff light pink sweatshirt with ‘Treat People With Kindness’ written in a plain white font. He remembered the day they bought the piece of clothing after a Harry Styles concert in London. What a fun night, hanging around with him after the event. As Yoongi said earlier, being famous has its perks.

Emerson felt immersed in deep feelings, some of them not even voiced during their relationship. Yoongi wrote small poems about every aspect of her: from her cute moles, to how he loved petting her hair before sleeping, or how her voice was sweet like honey and face cute as a mochi. Everything, he wrote inspired by moments they shared, like the trip to Japan during spring, or New Year’s Eve in China. The first time Emerson tried kim chi and how her nose puckered when the spicy taste finally hit her taste buds. When she first attended to Bangtan Lads concert and fanchanted along with ARMYs, taking a few of them to backstage. Travelling to Brazil and messaging Bárbara instead of using Google Translator.

They lived so many precious moments together. Yoongi made sure over 100 of them became art through emotional poems.

The last one, named ‘Ishin-denshin’. She took a deep breathe, still sobbing with happy tears running down her face. The silence only broken by occasional snorts and chuckles. However, Yoongi was getting more tense, staring at her eyes.

Ishin-denshin

Once upon a time in the far land of England

A woman gave birth to love impersonated in flesh, blood and gold

No one knew how important she was and how lucky they were

Until chaos from Korea arrived and trapped her in maeum.

Connections can cross the border of space and time

Voices and signs

Touches and sights

You and me, hands holding tight.

Love is a matter of ishi-denshin

Ability to communicate from mind to heart

Open up on a gaze

Not a sound to be heard from mouth.

Thankfully chaos and peace mingle and complete each other

Yin and Yang united by their differences

Perfecting what was already sculpted with dust and water

Remodeling and always improving, resulting in brand new peculiarities.

Love and connections are the result of fighting

Nothing good comes easy

Nothing easy is good

Once you find balance, universe rewards you with love.

Continents separated us for most part of our days on earth

Wandering uneven, looking for the half that best fit our soul

Happily odds were and allowed what resulted in balance

Only imagining myself without you, even my brain in plain conscience feels afoul.

Don’t you dare saying you are not good enough

Cutie pie, you are unique like flakes of snow

Every drop has its own shape

Unique, you never see two looking the same.

My heartbeat is in sync with yours

Slow like when we sleep

Or when we kiss after a long period apart, tumbling in ribcage, rhythm vigorous

I thank everyday for finding my soulmate in a sweetheart like you.

Stay for as long as you want

I feel lucky only by having in my life as a constant

Luckily it won’t change much

When I finally make you a Min like me, everything mine will be ours.

When Emerson finished reading ‘Ishin-denshin’, Yoongi didn’t quite gave her time to think broader and stood up, pulling the woman together. Standing side by side, he kneeled in front of Emerson and proclaimed, among tears and sobs, holding one hand whilst looking for something in his back pocket.

– Emerson, after all those words you’ve read, would you give me the honour of becoming my Mrs.Min?

– The only possible answer is yes.

- x - x - x -

P:S I purple you <3

38 notes · View notes

warlordess · 5 years

Text

An Alternate Journey (Pokeshipping; part three)

Authors - @warlordess and @miyatoriaka

Notes – Here be chapter two/part three of my joint project with Miya. I decided to post this one a bit early due to Valentine’s Day. It’s also Leaf’s introduction, which was a little harder for me to write because I don’t know much of anything about Leaf as a character. I mean, in the games, she’s the avatar of the player’s whim (should they choose a female character) and I’ve barely read the Adventures manga, nor have I seen Origins (and I have no clue if she’s even in it). So I threw a bit of info together from the game and gave her a bit of Gary’s mean streak from early canon… but also tried to write her as a bit more complicated than your average rival/bully, which eventually shows through between this chapter and the next.

Anyway, read on and please review/comment/reblog! Unless you’re one of those derpy anonymous trolls. If you’re one of those then you can go choke.

You can find the prologue here.

You can find chapter one here.

OoO

Title - “An Alternate Journey”

Summary - Eleven year old novice trainer Misty starts her Pokemon adventure, best friends Gary and Ash by her side. But will she withstand every test her travels throw at her and become the greatest master trainer of all time? Fic co-crafted with famous fan-artist, Miyatoriaka!

Ages - Misty and Leaf are eleven years old, Ash and Gary are thirteen, and the adults are adult-aged so who cares about ‘em? Lol.

Chapter Two - Rival

OoOoO

The cotton candy sunrise came and went while the three trainers snoozed, making up for their disrupted sleep from the night before. The sun had fully risen by the time they did wake, all of them eating a light breakfast of bread, jam, and fresh fruit before Misty released Gastly so he could direct them towards their next destination: Pewter City.

“Wow, we got here much quicker than I thought we would considering how many days we were stuck in Viridian Forest,” Gary noted, his hand saluted against his brow as he took in the sights. He hadn’t visited this staple city recently since his gym and familial locations were settled in the more southern areas of Kanto.

“It’s all thanks to Gastly!” Misty responded proudly, “Because of him, Eevee and I will face off against the gym leader here right after a quick trip to the PokeCenter!”

“Ah, well, maybe you should pace yourself,” Ash warned her cryptically.

“Wha’d’ya mean?”

“It’s just… You’ve been a trainer for all of - what? - two weeks, almost half the time of which was spent stuck in one place, and now you wanna march straight up to the nearest gym to demand a battle? Much better prepared trainers than you have set themselves up for major loss because of that kinda recklessness.”

“Okaaay… so do you two know anything about the gym? You both are part of the league yourselves, right? There must be something you can tell me.”

“Hm, well, like much of the architecture here alludes, the gym utilizes rock-type Pokemon. Unfortunately, there was an upset a few years ago so the trainer in charge has alternated a couple times. Even the representative at league events has varied. Because of that, I dunno what their skill level is or what specific Pokemon they’re likely to use. I can say,” Gary paused to release a huff as the group of three humans and one ground-traversing Pokemon carefully ambled over some particularly uneven terrain leading from the plateau that divided Viridian Forest and Pewter City, “that, due to this gym being the first stop for most new trainers, the league challenge presented is kept at a moderate level.”

[read more]

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t expect a good fight though,” Ash began next, almost losing his footing and having to take a moment to regain his step. “The challenge level might be maintained for new trainers but there’s basically no Pokemon you can catch around here that has an advantage against rock-types. You either have to force the advantage yourself by picking a starter that can measure up or you have to get really lucky.”

“Well, let’s just get to the PokeCenter first,” Misty mumbled, her formerly impressive ego vastly reduced by the information that had been offered.

“Yeah, and maybe we’ll walk around town while you come up with a strategy. We’ll still need to stock up on potions and food and stuff. There might be some interesting sights to see too.”

The group finally made it into town, catching sight of the PokeCenter’s great red roof even from their distance and making a Beedrill line for it. Misty withdrew Gastly back to his Pokeball with a word of gratitude, picked Eevee up into her arms, and approached the front desk where a young woman with a pink uniform and even brighter pink hair was waiting with a cheery grin to greet them.

“Welcome to our PokeCenter, here to heal your Pokemon’s every woe! I’m Nurse Joy and I’ll be registering your Pokemon in our database so they can be admitted for healing or check-ups.”

“Hey, wait, didn’t we meet her in…?”

“Oh, yeah, you don’t know, Misty, but every Center is run by a relative of the samy family. The same holds true for the police force,” Ash informed her.

“Relatives…?” the redhead replied with a brow quirked in suspicion. “You sure they aren’t clones?”

She had said such a thing offhandedly, meaning it as a joke, but when she next returned her gaze to the aforementioned woman, that originally sweet smile was suddenly looking a little strained.

“My aunts, nieces, sisters, and cousins are all just as human as I am, just as we all share the same passion for caring about Pokemon.”

Next moment, any residual malice had vanished - though Misty retained her apologetic expression for a few seconds longer - and Nurse Joy held out a tray with six empty Pokeball slots on it.

“Please deposit your Pokemon for me here and my assistant Chansey will escort them to their room after admission. Will your friends be leaving theirs as well?”

“Yeah, might as well,” Gary relented, and he and Ash both began to remove the round miniature devices from their belts while Joy placed two more trays on the counter and scanned Misty’s with an electronic reader, then typed a few things into her computer.

Before she could follow suit with Ash and Gary’s Pokemon, Misty took the opportunity to place Eevee on the counter as well.

“Um, she’s one of mine too. Do I…? I’m hoping I won’t have to force her into her Pokeball. I didn’t before.”

“Oh, my, a trainer who travels with their Pokemon outside of a Pokeball? And this Eevee doesn’t seem to be an infant either. But it’s absolutely no problem! We have plenty of patients who are more like companions and visit just like this.”

Nurse Joy accepted the fox-like Pokemon into her arms, giving her a comforting pat along her back, then turned and placed her on a timely delivered stretcher that Chansey had rolled up. She finished scanning and entering Ash and Gary’s Pokemon IDs into the computer, added their trays to the stretcher as well, and Chansey rolled everyone to the back area of the Center.

Afterwards, the three trainers reserved a room and left to take in the sights around town, including the PokeMart and a couple of specialty stores. When they’d finished with lunch, they headed back to the PokeCenter to retrieve their Pokemon, Gary taking the opportunity to check their funds and make a budget for their supply costs.

“So TMs are…?” Misty was asking him in the meantime as the whole lot of them waited for Chansey to grab their Pokeballs.

“Well, they’re short for ‘technical machine’ but, as for what they do, they’re used to teach Pokemon moves they wouldn’t ordinarily learn through training and natural growth. There are some real powerful ones available.”

“Thanks,” Ash said in reference to the nearly always smiling Nurse Joy handing over their Pokemon. “Are we heading back out?” he asked this time to his friends.

“Ah, about that… I was wondering if it’s possible to go visit Pewter Gym?” Misty began, picking Eevee up into her arms with a kiss to her forehead before allowing the Pokemon to climb over her shoulder. “You know, like I used to do back in Cerulean City with you, Ash. I figure this is the only way I can prepare myself more for my own gym battle. Unless you wanna let me battle you. You never replied to me when I asked yesterday.”

“Well, it’s true that most gyms have open hours for spectators to come watch but we’ll have to go check and see what hours those are…” Gary replied to her, nudging Ash into prolonged silence before he could come up with a retort.

In fact, the raven-haired trainer was going to respond anyway to Misty’s commentary about him supposedly never answering to her challenge the night before but he was interrupted by yet another person as soon as they’d made it out the sliding double doors of the PokeCenter.

“Oho! My goodness, if it isn’t the late bloomer of Cerulean City!”

Misty’s expression immediately darkened as she stopped in her tracks, already apparently knowing who the voice belonged to without turning to see for herself.

“Oh, no.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” asked the girl with long brown hair, a black high collar sleeveless dress, and white trainer gloves, leaning in close and smirking, prodding Misty in the cheek.

Ash had to blink in wonder, curious as to how she’d moved in so quickly (and who she was for that matter).

“I said, hi, Leaf, how’ve you been since you left Pallet Town?” the redhead rephrased, stiff plastic smile on her face as she made a half-hearted attempt to swat the other girl’s hand away.

“Oh, well, thanks so much for asking! Everything’s been going so perfectly! I’ve gotten six badges, I’ve made so much money and fame that it’s almost unnecessary for me to even compete in the league and become the Pokemon Master! But of course I still will,” the snarky preteen added in afterthought, “And lastly, of course, is that I’ve caught the perfect little team of Pokemon! They’re all so cute!

“But silly me! You shouldn’t let me talk about myself all day! So what about you, Misty dear? Still a late bloomer as always, I see! It looks like you’ve barely started out! So… when did you finally leave home, hmm? And when were you planning on introducing me to your handsome companions?”

It had felt like every sharp word spilled from this girl’s lips in a single cunning breath. Her passive-aggressive jabs and flaunting self-promotion were enough to make Misty’s blood boil. But then again, Leaf had always had a way of crawling under her skin, ever since they were youngsters in school together.

“Uh, anyway, Ash and Gary, this is Leaf. She’s my…” What? The only term Misty could think of to describe her was ‘bane of my existence’ but the redhead couldn’t help thinking she needed to say something more subtle. “... I’ve known her most of my life. Leaf, this is Ash,” she paused to point him out, “and this is Gary. They’re traveling with me.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! You have yourself a couple of babysit - I mean, training coaches!” The slip-up did not go unnoticed. “You’re just so lucky! Most of us have to accept the burden of traveling independently, taking full responsibility for our own goals and struggles, but having others take up your slack sometimes works too, I suppose. In fact, it even suits someone like you!

“Anyway, boys, the pleasure is all yours, I’m sure. I hope you both are taking good care of Cerulean City’s late bloomer.”

Misty couldn’t help the slight twitch of her tightly hunched shoulders every time she was called that. And her subdued fury only doubled when she saw Ash mouth the words over to himself as he and Leaf shook hands, clearly confused but knowing better than to ask at the moment.

Leaf shook hands with an oddly tongue-tied Gary too and then swung back towards her old friend with a sly grin, taking in the sight of Eevee for the first time and bending down to greet her.

“Why, hello there, cutie! I didn’t notice you before! I apologize for that! How could I miss such a sweet baby?” the brunette cooed genuinely with sparkling eyes, reaching out to stroke Eevee’s fluffy mane and seeming the slightest bit perturbed when the Pokemon didn’t respond to her earnest enthusiasm in kind. Rather, the normal-type Pokemon curled herself around her trainer’s ankles as if trying to disappear from view.

“So where did you catch her? Eevee are really rare in the wild, you know. You usually have to breed one. I should know; I’ve been looking for one for myself for months now.”

“Actually Eevee and I are partners because of Gary. He’s Professor Oak’s grandson. He was able to talk the professor into letting me breed an Eevee from an egg two of theirs managed to make. See, Eevee wasn’t caught. She’s my first Pokemon. That’s why I had to wait so much longer than everyone else to start my journey.”

Because she and I were especially meant to be together! So there! she couldn’t help but add internally at the ever-so-slightly faltering smile on the other girl’s face. It sure felt good to come out on top!

Indeed, her rival seemed quite put out by the reveal of such details but shook off her envy within seconds and reached her full height once more.

“Well, Misty dear, that just gave me a marvelous idea! Why don’t we have a battle now that you’re finally a Pokemon trainer too? Just a little one-on-one practice. I know how hard it can be for you when you’re just starting out! You could probably use the experience and money. How about we battle starter against starter? Since I’m sure you don’t have much of a team yet. And it seems like fate had us meet each other here today.”

“Actually, Misty has caught herself six Pokemon already!” Ash blurted out from the background, retreating and regrouping when his redheaded friend glared at him. “Though Eevee is definitely your strongest option at this point,” he clarified finally.

“You know what, Leaf?! You’re on! Let’s do this, right now!”

“Well, that’s great then, isn’t it? We even have an audience for our first ever official battle! Now, c’mon, there’s a practice field over there we can use…” And then, at the sight of Misty looking quite suddenly embarrassed, “... Or did you forget we’re standing right in front of the PokeCenter in the middle of a busy street?”

“I, uh, I - of course not! Let’s go, Eevee!” the redhead huffed aloud, turning up her nose and stomping in the direction of their aforementioned battleground, the rest of their group following after them.

“This is a one-on-one battle between Misty and Leaf, starter Pokemon only, no items allowed during the match. If these terms are agreeable to both trainers,” Gary paused here during his impromptu referee speech so that any complaints could be voiced if they existed before continuing, “then you may call out your Pokemon and begin!”

“I call Eevee!”

“Woo! Go, Misty!” Ash shouted from his place on the sidelines, pumping a fist into the air.

The redhead offered him a grateful smile for his camaraderie before turning a determined and scrutinizing gaze on her opponent, waiting to see what challenge she and Eevee would have to face.

Leaf had almost an entire year up on her experience-wise, and it wasn’t until this moment that the novice Pokemon trainer realized how remiss it was of her to not have paid attention to what Pokemon the other girl had chosen for the start of her own journey that fateful day all that time ago. And no matter which starter she’d picked, it had probably evolved by now, perhaps even more than once.

“Come on out, Squirtle!” the female trainer shouted, elegantly tossing a Pokeball forward, where it snapped open and unveiled an all-too-familiar beam of scarlet light which morphed into the outline of a small turtle-like Pokemon Misty had learned much about back when she wasn’t sure which Pokemon she should choose as her first.

Still, back to the present, she wasn’t quite sure if she was more relieved or disappointed by the sight of this particular opponent.

“I hope you don’t mind us making the first move while you’re busy thinking? Squirtle, tackle!”

The water-type Pokemon gave a firm nod before running bipedal in Eevee’s direction.

“Ah!” Misty gasped, collecting herself and responding by instinct, “Eevee, dodge it and use your sand attack!”

The fox-like Pokemon leapt out of the way and then u-turned as Squirtle careened past, digging his stubby feet into the ground to try and keep himself from going too far beyond his original goal. Unfortunately he wasn’t quick enough to avoid his adversary’s follow-up attack and was punished by an onslaught of dirt in his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

“Use your water gun to wash your eyes out!” Leaf commanded.

“I hope you don’t mind us continuing to battle while Squirtle is busy with that,” Misty commented smartly, barely able to conceal her condescending and prideful tone as she mimicked her rival’s statement from barely more than a minute ago.

Leaf’s facial features tightened into a restrained grimace, clearly catching on but choosing to refrain from commentary and instead redoubling her efforts in the rest of their battle.

“Eevee, tackle!”

“Counter with withdraw!”

Squirtle paused in the middle of washing out his eyes, curling all appendages within his shell just in time for Eevee to smash into him. The normal-type squealed in pain and recoiled but shook it off rather quickly otherwise.

“Try your tail whip and then use quick attack, Eevee!”

“Use rapid spin!”

The fox Pokemon wagged her tail in Squirtle’s direction just as he’d unfurled from his withdrawal but, while quick attack was an accelerated move, rapid spin was much faster. By the time Eevee had jumped from all fours to launch her weight at him, Squirtle was already curled up and swerving out of the way. But the relentless speed didn’t stop there as the water-type glided circles around his opponent before lunging at her, smacking her to the ground and flying a solid ten or so feet away before popping out of his shell again and landing gracefully on his hind legs.

“Ah! Eevee, you can get up, right? We can still…” No sooner had Misty spoken these words than her Pokemon stumbled to her paws, looking the worse for wear in every regard but not wanting to let her trainer down. “Yeah, we can still do this! We can still win if we just keep attacking! Use your bite!”

“Iron defense!”

Squirtle withdrew into his shell once more, with the added effect of it shimmering a glossy white, just in time for Eevee to clamp down with her fangs, which proved to be quite the mistake. She whimpered as she pulled back, mouth clearly sore after such a folly.

“Water pulse!”

“Dodge--”

But there was no time. A jet stream of high-powered water shot towards Eevee, making contact less than three seconds after the order was given. The already wounded Pokemon was thrust that much further towards the side of the field, hitting the ground hard and rolling limply a few times before coming to a stop, struggling to get back up even after such a beating.

But Leaf wasn’t finished quite yet, and she no longer seemed interested in playing her games either.

“Now finish it with your skull bash!”

“Wait, what?”

Misty’s head drew a blank at the confident utterance that was Leaf’s command. Skull bash was Squirtle’s signature move, one of the most powerful techniques he could learn. Compared to that, there was nothing in hers and Eevee’s arsenal that could compare. If this next attack made contact…

“Eevee, lower Squirtle’s strength with your growl! Or at least get out of there if you can!”

It was no use, everything was over so very soon. Squirtle had started dashing at her precious Pokemon but that trot had turned into a mad sprint, during which the water-type was moving so quickly that his feet, then his stubbly legs, and then his body as a whole were powerful white blurs of agility and power.

Eevee successfully growled but it seemed to have no effect on the incoming threat so she attempted to follow through with Misty’s secondary command... However there wasn’t enough time.

Squirtle’s hardened skull smashed into Eevee and sent the normal-type flying through the air before she hit the ground and wrenched round a few times in the dirt, coming to a stop in the left-hand corner of the field on her trainer’s side.

Speechless and distraught, the redhead couldn’t wait for Gary’s official call to the end of the battle and began cautiously stumbling towards her unconscious Pokemon, but her half-hearted gait gained traction with every step until she was full-on running, her breath stolen from her throat, eyes both somehow watering and burning dry at the same time, her skin cold and heart hammering with fear.

Pokemon fainted and lost battles every single day, she knew that, but… not her Pokemon. Not her Eevee. Never before this moment.

“Misty--,” Ash began, on his feet in an instant and ready to support her in her time of need but he was interrupted by the somewhat restrained sound of Gary’s voice.

“Eevee is unable to battle, which makes the winners of the match Squirtle and Leaf!”

“Great job, Squirtle, come here!” Leaf called out, her Pokemon responding obediently with enthusiasm and waddling towards her. She fondly patted him on the head, kneeling down and granting him a soft kiss on the cheek before calling him back to his Pokeball and regaining her full height once more.

“Do you see now, Misty dear? Pokemon come in all sizes, types, and strengths. At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter that your Eevee was bred especially for you or that your friends gave up their time to help you on your journey. What matters to you most - or what should matter - is the bond you share with your Pokemon and the time you’ve put in together.

“Squirtle and I have been together for almost a full year. We’ve won six badges together, earned a living and survived and thrived together. We’ve built a team together too.

“Nothing can replace or replicate the bond I have with my Pokemon or the time we’ve spent working towards our goals. Even a novice like you who just started out will have to work at it if your dream is to truly become the greatest Pokemon Master ever.”

“Hey, Misty, you okay…?” Ash asked, kneeling down beside her as she sat in the grass, cradling her unconscious Pokemon in her arms. “You know, once we get Eevee back to the PokeCenter for awhile, she’ll be good as new in no time!”

Gary walked up to them both as Misty, still dispirited, managed a nod.

“But, then again, I’ll have already finished collecting badges and challenging the league long before you, which means that I’ll naturally become a Master class trainer first. And it seems pretty clear to me from the battle we just had that you’ll never be a match against me anyway, will you, Misty dear?” Leaf goaded more shallowly now, drawing a hand through her long brown hair and hmphing with a mild smirk adorning her face. “After all, once a late bloomer, always a late bloomer, am I ri--”

“--Hey!” Ash shouted, on his feet in an instant and staring her down from a considerable distance, quite fed up with her condescending attitude. “What makes you think you can talk to my friend like this?! Just ‘cause you’re a stronger trainer and just ‘cause--”

Gary laid a hand on his shoulder, averting his gaze slightly under Ash’s increased ire, though the raven-haired trainer was also effectively silenced by his friend’s maneuver.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“Wha’d’ya mean?”

“I think… I’m just saying…” And Gary dropped his tone to such a lower murmur that Ash had to strain to hear what he was saying, meaning Misty probably couldn’t hear it at all (which was probably the point), “... that she needs to learn this lesson too.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean that she,” Ash paused long enough to jack his thumb in Leaf’s direction, “should be the one to teach it! But it’s fine! If she wants to talk about bonds made and time spent with Pokemon then I’ll gladly match her! After all, Bulbasaur and I have been together for years! And Weepinbell too! And--”

“--No, Ash!” a strained voice rang out from the ground, and the two young men faltered amid their discussion as Misty vigilantly rose to her feet, still holding Eevee just as closely and tenderly as ever. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I don’t… I don’t really get what you guys were saying but I just wanna say one thing! Eevee and I are a great team! Whatever we may be missing now we’re gonna find and master! Do you hear me, Leaf? The next time you and I battle, we’re gonna be the ones who best you!”

Leaf threw her hands up in a casual shrug, her lips curling upward so faintly that none of the others could even see it.

“Whatever you say… little miss late bloomer,” she replied aloofly, turning on her heel and marching proudly away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with an ancient Pokemon exhibit.”

“What was her problem?” Ash begged aloud as soon as she was gone. “Misty, are you okay? You shouldn’t listen to Leaf just ‘cause she beat you in a battle, okay? You and Eevee are plenty close and plenty strong, right, Gary?”

There was an edgy pressure to his tone that not so subtly demanded Gary had better agree but the Viridian gym trainer was still staring after Leaf with awkwardly flushed cheeks and sharp eyes.

“Yeah… Ash is right, I guess…”

“You guess?!” the raven-haired trainer yelped, though his expression darkened as he looked his old friend over with pursed lips and furrowed brows, apparently catching on to something he’d missed earlier on. “Are you just saying that ‘cause you’re--”

“--I’m just saying that because, even though Leaf came on strong,” the burgundy-haired trainer countered, pointedly interrupting what he had a feeling was going to be a very embarrassing and very accurate accusation, “she made a good point… and a strong impression,” he added.

“C’mon, Ash, like I said before, Misty was going to have to face this moment sooner or later. You gotta remember that we’re here to help her when it’s needed and give her advice here and there but… there are just some things it can’t be our responsibility to teach her.

“I mean, isn’t that why you blew off her requests for a Pokemon battle? Because you were worried you’d accidentally end up playing the role Leaf did?”

“... You’re too smart for your own good, ya know that?” Ash begrudgingly admitted, blushing.

“Guys…” Misty’s voice rang out from behind them, and both boys jumped nearly a foot in the air, having basically forgotten during their heated discussion that she was present to hear their every word. “Guys, it’s okay. And thank you. I… don’t really know what happened or like how it happened but I’ll get stronger from this and we’ll win the next battle against Leaf, just like I told her.”

Perhaps Ash was imagining it but he couldn’t help thinking that the expression on the redhead’s face was more affectionate than it should have been as she stared wistfully in the direction Leaf had vanished in, considering what had transpired between them during their match. Huh. Maybe there was more to the girls’ relationship than he could comprehend at present.

“Anyway, can we get Eevee back to the PokeCenter now?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Gary responded with a rare warm grin, perhaps feeling that one of his sarcastic or blunt quips would be better saved for another time.

A couple of hours later, after Eevee had received both a good nap and some decent first aid from the talented and dedicated Nurse Joy and her assistant Chansey, the group of three trainers left to pay a visit to the Pewter City Gym and see about its open hours, which they’d unfortunately missed for the day, so they went out to grab dinner instead.

Misty, who’d been sitting on the question since that afternoon, finally got around to asking Ash and Gary about the odd event that Leaf had mentioned in passing earlier.

“Ancient Pokemon exhibit, hmm…?” Ash replied first, staring into the distance as if deep in thought for a few seconds before deadpanning, “I’ve got no clue. Oh well!”

“I think she was talking about Pewter’s Museum of Science and Natural History. They have a department dedicated to the excavation and research of ancient Pokemon species. Rumor is they’ve even been involved in potential resurrection or cloning with the use of DNA,” Gary rattled off informatively.

“Wow… I don’t really understand it but that sounds pretty amazing! Can we go check it out?”

Misty smiled down at her perfectly healed Eevee, suppressing the guilt that bubbled up in the back of her mind at the sight of the Pokemon. It still stung some to think back to their battle earlier with Leaf, still bothered the redhead some to remember the harsh lesson she’d learned. The first thing she’d done for her Pokemon after Eevee had woken up was apologize profusely for letting her down, but of course Eevee had just licked her hand and nudged affectionately against her fact, not quite understanding but wanting to make her trainer feel better.

Misty and friends made their way up the few blocks to one of the bus stops on Main Street, which would take them the rest of the way northeast where the museum was apparently located.

After the ten minute commute, their group found themselves standing in front of a massive four story complex, facing a magnificent courtyard and stately architecture built out of the same slate gray stone that seemed to be the main source material used in most of Pewter City’s historical builds.

“C’mon guys!” Misty called out, perfectly carefree if the way she was skipping excitedly towards the main entrance was any indication.

Just as she’d opened one of the double doors, she and the others heard a distraught and irate shout from inside the building.

“Wait! Thief! Stop them please!”

A tall figure in black sprinted through the door Misty was holding, so strong and reckless that they inadvertently collided into her and caused her to tumble to the ground.

“Hey, what’s the…” she began angrily in response to this transgression but faltered at the sinister expression and demeanor of the man before her as he glared icily before remembering he needed to be on his way.

As soon as he was gone, many things happened in succession. Ash was checking to make sure she was okay while Gary was staring suspiciously after the man in black, followed immediately by the front door bursting open again and a whole slew of people appearing all at once, including a few in blue security uniforms, a fair number of curious bystanders, and two people sporting white lab coats.

“Oh - oh no, are you alright, honey?” the first one, female with a rather meek and neurotic personality, simpered, giving Misty a once over, bouncing on the balls of her feet and pacing to and fro in clear distress. “Oh no, oh my, but there’s no time, we have to hurry! Oh, I can’t believe this happened! How could it - how will we ever find--”

“--Penelope, calm down please,” her coworker attempted to cajole her authoritatively, having just apparently finished a phone call because he was placing his cell in his pocket. “I just contacted the police and Sergeant Jenny will be here soon. There’s nothing else we can do for now without potentially risking our safety. You three,” he motioned towards the group of trainers, “I’m sorry to approach you like this but we’re in the middle of an emergency situation. We’ve just had a very valuable fossil stolen from one of our exhibits by someone wearing a black jumpsuit. Did you happen to notice anything we might be able to report to the police when they arrive?”

“No, how could we when--?”

But Ash was cut off before he could say anymore.

“The guy looked middle-aged, had black hair but there were gray streaks on the sides, gray eyes. He looked at least six feet tall. He exited through the gate and took a left. It seemed like he was trying to u-turn around the museum campus and escape into the northern woods,” Gary recited and, after catching sight of Misty and Ash’s bemused expressions, he added, “I was watching him go just in case it might help.”

“Thanks, son, that was very smart of you. You three!” And the male scientist turned to face the security officers. “Go around back, fan out with your Pokemon and chase the thief down. Don’t do anything to risk damage to that fossil. If you can safely stall until Sergeant Jenny and her officers show up then do so, otherwise send someone back here so they can lead the police in the right direction when they arrive.”

The trio of security personnel nodded in affirmation of this instruction and ran off instantly afterwards. Misty finally got back to her feet and watched them go, feeling mysteriously equal parts excited and frustrated over how she’d let the criminal get away. Still, to think someone had been able to steal an artifact from a well-guarded museum in (mostly) broad daylight…

The thought had barely even crossed her mind when a more familiar figure, smaller in stature with long brown hair and wearing a black turtle-collared skater dress, dashed by them all in a blur of tricolor, out the gate and circling the campus in an instant, following the security guards.

“Wait, was that…?” Ash started tapering off towards the end of his perturbed comment.

“I think… it was…” Gary replied, his tone somewhat more admirable. “Wait, Misty!”

For the redheaded novice trainer had already taken off as fast as her legs would allow, Eevee ever loyal at her side. The two boys had no choice but to pursue their reckless friend, ignoring the shouts from the administrative scientist and his more panicked assistant.

“Grr… those kids better not cause any damage to this operation!”

“I just pray everyone will be alright. With Team Rocket behind this, we can’t… always be sure, can we…?” Penelope responded cryptically in a somber tone, immediately sobering her superior up, his expression softening into shame and concern.

“Yes, you’re quite right.”

OoOoO

Notes - And thus ends this chapter with a somewhat unintended cliffhanger. Miya wasn’t able to guess what went down in the next chapter so I wonder if anyone else will be able to? Lol. It’s not that special to be honest. Also coming in the next chapter is Misty’s first gym battle! And, oh… is Ash jealous…?

Next chapter will be posted around the end of March.

Likes, comments, reviews, whatever is available from the reader’s end is really invaluable to a writer’s interest in continuation!

#pokeshipping #fan fiction #an alternate journey #chapter two #role reversal au #miyatoriaka #fanfic #multichaptered #happy valentine's day!

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kokobussy · 6 years

Text

The New Guy Pt. 2 - Chen x Reader

summary: Even before Minseok came along, Jongdae’s always had a thing for you.

warnings: sub!chen, dom!reader, humiliation, pain kink, bdsm, some cock torture but not too hard so don’t let that scare you lol

word count: 6.9k

a/n: sorry it took a million years but here’s the sequel you guys wanted! I hope you like it! Link to Pt. 1 is here

Jongdae’s worked here for five years now. Unlike a lot of his peers, he didn’t have to intern in order to work for Tokki Corporation. Surprisingly enough his internet reputation got him the job more so than his official GPA. Back in his college days, Jongdae coded anything from website layouts to viruses, ranging in severity and design, just to keep his belly fed. Over time his popularity surpassed him within the coding community for doing just about anything for money. Sure it wasn’t always good, but he was struggling just like everyone else and had to find a way to make end’s meat. As graduation reared its ugly head, Jongdae realized that in the real world he wouldn’t be able to get by with popularity and occasional payments alone. Before he could even upload his application, he received an email from the Tokki Corporation asking for an interview. Their company had been under cyber attacks lately due to...a bunch of nonsense that he hadn’t really paid attention to honestly. From what he did gather it sounded like easy stuff, child’s play, and would probably only take a couple of hours to correct.

When Jongdae arrived at the corporation’s massive building, he had shakily reported that he was there for an interview. Being fresh out of college Jongdae only had ill-fitting slacks and a baggy button down from a local Good Will to wear. The secretary had eyed him incredulously, probably chalking him up to be another throw-away-hire, and made a quick phone call. His interview took place at the highest office in the building, overlooking what seemed like the entirety of Seoul judging by how high it was. A man sat behind a large glass desk, back facing the city as if it meant nothing, and looked over Jongdae’s printed out resume. Jongdae stood there like an idiot, looking around the office in awe and wondering if everyone’s office looked like this here. Despite the regality of said office, he couldn’t help but notice the small rabbits littered around. Rabbit plushies and figurines, ranging in size, littered around the book case and desk and even the guy’s writing utensils.The man, probably the interview, looked at him pointedly until Jongdae sat down in a smaller chair just in front of his desk, slightly looking up at the man.

The interview process was incredibly quick. Some general questions were asked, questions that Jongdae “uhh”-ed and “uhm”-ed through as he shook like a leaf in his seat, but the interviewer seemed to disregard them entirely. Finally the interviewer placed the resume down and truly looked at Jongdae for the first time since he came in and said,”I’m Junmyeon by the way and I’ve seen what you can do. We’ve been following you for a while now.” Now at that point Jongdae nearly shit himself. He’s not afraid to admit it. Why the fuck would this major company be watching him? Every conspiracy theory known to man flowed into his mind from the men in black to the Illuminati, but Junmyeon immediately debunked those. “I’m a fan of your work,” he said with a smile,”I’ve already made my decision. I’d like you to lead our IT team.” After that one interview, Jongdae had the job in the bag. So he came to this company straight out of college with an open mind and an eager heart, ready to take adulthood on by the horns. He made plenty of friends inside the company and outside, rented out a one bedroom, and even started his adult life.

Everything came a little too easily though. Jongdae did his job well and he was proud of that, but over time everything seemed to become dull. As he grew more experienced in his role, made friends at the company, and even seemingly conquered adult life and all its misfortunes, Jongdae grew bored. He got tired of the routine, tired of coming to the same sad basement every day, tired of the leaky coffee machine that - depending on its mood- would shock him, and especially tired of Oh Sehun calling the IT line to taunt him and immediately hang up before Jongdae could come up with a well thought out response. Sehun and Jongdae began officially working for the company around the same time, spending the first two weeks together during orientation in order to “bond” as a team despite them being in completely different departments. The two of them had been friends, genuinely, for a little while, but eventually they grew apart once they were sorted into their own departments. Jongdae remembers you very clearly from orientation, way too nice to be Sehun’s friend and laughing at all of Jongdae’s stupid jokes. He remembers you trying your hardest to keep the peace when things got too heated between him and Sehun. He remembers you, every bit of sweet and charming, looking at him like he was something special.

After orientation though, Jongdae hadn’t seen much of you. There was really no reason to. The two of you weren’t that close and he didn’t really have any reason to go to the upper levels of the building since he could just send any of his employees in his stead. You eventually slipped into the very corner of Jongdae’s mind, a hazy lustful memory that sometimes came up when he couldn’t sleep at night and needed to rub one out.

But, of course, one day it all changed.

One particular day after Jongdae got to work late, received a horrible sting from the terribly mean coffee machine, and spilled said coffee on his khakis, he got another stupid call from Sehun. It wasn’t so much as what Sehun said exactly, but more the fact that he almost never wants to deal with Sehun’s antics. These phone calls usually ranged from a dig at Jongdae’s fashion sense, even though Sehun hasn’t seen him in a while, to random silly names in a childish voice that grates his nerves and before Jongdae can think of a good response, Sehun hangs up accordingly. But Jongdae was already having a terrible day. So with all the anger and frustration he could muster, he headed upstairs to give the asshole a piece of his mind. When he finally got there 10 minutes later, after walking up and heaving over numerous flights of stairs due to maintenance on the main elevator (somehow the only elevator that went down to the basement), Jongdae rushed through the halls of Human Resources to figure out how exactly to handle this situation.

In his anger he didn’t think to simply call one of the managers or even shoot an email. Like an idiot, he rushed up here only to slowly realize that maybe this isn’t exactly the most professional approach. His furious stomps turn into timid steps as he grows more aware of his surroundings. Employees hustle their way back and forth from their desks, simply moving to the side to avoid Jongdae and his confusion to do their jobs. Jongdae begins feeling out of place as more and more people shoot glances his way, at his coffee stained khakis and flustered face. He’s completely out of his comfort zone, upstairs with the other departments that made this company, and it’s kind of getting to him.

The IT department is located in the very bowels of the building, far away from all the regular workers here, and the distinction is very noticeable. None of the other workers really even knew what the IT department did besides the basics like fixing computers or getting malware off of Wu Kris’ porn ridden desktop a little too often. The department itself was filled with nice enough people who didn’t really know how to socialize, much less fix their weird reputation of being “troll people”. Jongdae likes to think he’s different and loves proving these people wrong by showing how handsome, talented, and outgoing he is. While Jongdae had reasonable social skills, he did tend to get flustered easily in social situations. His social anxiety is something he constantly denies and struggles with, refusing to admit that he’s as awkward as his employees. Suddenly a familiar voice pulls him out of his reverie, nearly making him jump out of his slightly damp skin.

“Hey! Do you need help with something?”

There are offices all around him, the amount of people flowing in and out and about them confusing him all the more, but a soft “Over here!” guides him to a large office with an open wooden door. He sees a small streetview of the city in a small window before his eyes land on you. Your suit, buttons undone a little too low to be professional, your golden name plate, bold and starking on your desk, and your smile, just as sweet as he remembered.

“Jongdae?”

Before his mind can catch up with him, Jongdae manages a smile and a friendly, “Jesus, Y/N, is that you? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

As Jongdae steps into the room, doing his best to come off as casual and not at all as nervous as he feels, he’s met with the very last person he wants to see. Sehun turns around in his chair, widening his eyes in surprise, as he says,“Kim? What are you doing up here?”

God. Jongdae can’t tell if he’s actually asking or just being an asshole, but whatever Sehun’s doing, Jongdae has entirely thought out an eloquent ‘fuck you’ that’ll send Sehun reeling. Somehow despite the eloquent and well thought out ‘fuck you’ he planned, Jongdae can feel his face flushing more and more the longer the two of you stare at him. There’s an awkward pause which Jongdae can feel in the very pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know what to say. He genuinely wasn’t expecting you to be one of the main managers now and he certainly wasn’t expecting Sehun, of all people, to be a part of the HR department.

With this sudden change, Jongdae feels his heart race, his skin prickle with nerves he didn’t realize were there. Your eyes, darker than he remembers, roll over his form and take him in for what he is. A nervous idiot who apparently doesn’t know how to talk to people. When your gaze moves to Sehun, you lightly smack his arm and nod at the door before saying,”I’ll see you later for lunch.”

Sehun’s eyes widen slightly, looking between you and Jongdae before landing on you once again, and he pouts,”Nooo! don’t make me leave. Look at his chinos. Let me have this.”

For some reason, despite his nerves, Jongdae feels the need to interject,“They’re khakis.”

“You would think that.”

You lightly smack Sehun again and nod at the door,”Goodbye, Sehunnie.” He leaves without further prodding, but not before snorting at Jongdae’s general direction and closing the door behind him. The two of you are left there, alone in your office, with the hum of afternoon traffic filtering in from outside.

“You can sit down, Jongdae.”

Your voice is more comforting than he remembers, something about it almost immediately calming the pressure building up in his body, the need to climb out of his own skin. Jongdae sinks into the very seat that Sehun previously occupied, resting against the arm chair and spreading his legs slightly. The attempt to look bigger than he really is isn’t lost on you, but you let him get comfortable without protest.

You’ve been working in HR for a few years now and have finally become one of the managers in your department. You worked very hard to get to where you are and you’re incredibly proud of yourself. A major part of your job is ensuring that everyone is comfortable in their workspace. The reason why you’re so good at your job is because of how observant you are as well as your ability to calm people down. There’s a heady lavender scent filling the walls of your office, a thick smell that lulls Jongdae’s senses. You have little knick knacks and pictures littered around the space to make your office appear more like a casual place than what it actually was. Here in the middle of everything is Jongdae, an old friend from orientation.

Jongdae sparks up small talk, trying desperately to get the attention off of him and onto something else, as he looks around the room. You entertain him, of course, and occasionally glance at the way he picks at an escaped thread on your arm chair. He’s more handsome than you remember, blonde tresses contrasting nicely with his skin.

When the two of you were new hires, you’d been attracted to Jongdae. You laughed at his jokes, went out of your way to hang out with him, and even met up with him a few times outside of work, but either he was incredibly oblivious or simply wasn’t interested. Eventually you gave up your pursuit and instead focused on work, burying yourself in your workload and sure enough coming out on top. The two of you move from small talk to actual topics of conversation to internet communities. Jongdae had entirely forgotten why he was so attracted to you aside from your figure. Your sense of humor is infectious and probably the weirdest he’s ever seen. The two of you are involved in a lot of the same online communities, Jongdae’s being a little more extreme and exclusive than yours.

So when the topic of memes came up, all of the awkwardness and tension completely dissolved. You both laughed, showing each other memes uglier and more obscure than the last, and soon time began to pass without the two of you really noticing. Soon there’s a knock on your door, signaling the actual work that needed to be done and the reason why the two of you were in the first place. As Jongdae stands up, apologizing profusely for distracting you and exchanging usernames so he could add you later on Reddit, you notice the stain on his khakis. “Oh right. what happened anyway?” you ask, eyes not really leaving his crotch.

He follows your gaze to his khakis - chinos - and huffs,”Fuck, I almost forgot. Long story short, the coffee pot downstairs fucking sucks and we need to buy another one.” As you nod along to his explanation, you stand from your desk and make your way towards another chair in the corner of your office. Now that Jongdae can see you, really see you, he almost pops a chub right there in his fucking khakis. Chinos. Whatever. Your buttoned shirt neatly tucks into slacks that hug your frame nicely, shaping your figure into something thicker and sexier than Jongdae previously remembers. Your legs, God your legs, go on for miles and miles before they’re met with those tall black heels that bring the entire look together. Weak at the knees, Jongdae can’t help but stare at your curvaceous figure, a familiar feeling stirring in the very pit of his stomach.

You blatantly and unabashedly bend down to grab something out of your purse, pretending to dig around as the Tide To Go pen remains in your hand. After a tension fills the room, varying from the one earlier, you stand up fully and make your way over to Jongdae. You smirk as you catch the very last second of Jongdae’s gaze moving from your ass to your face before holding out the small pen. “Here,” you say as you stare down at the stain,”it’ll get just about anything off.” The two of you stare at each other for a time, not really saying a word as a mutual understanding begins to form. Jongdae takes the pen out of your hand, his own confidence beginning to fade once your professional front fades and turns into something he’s never seen before. Your eyes seem darker as they take him in now, consuming every inch of him as they roam. He loves it though, loves the attention he’s getting from you, loves that your eyes are on him and him only. There’s another insistent knock before the door opens altogether, a frustrated and huffy Sehun appearing in the doorway. “I swear to God, Y/N, if I don’t get noodles immediately I will die.”

After being reunited once again, there are a series of convenient run-ins that you knew for a fact were planned. How did you know? Because you’re the only planning said run-ins, having Sehun make a phone call to Jongdae every single time a computer so much as froze. On the days that Jongdae needed to be called, you made sure to wear your best outfits, to smile especially bright when he looked absolutely exasperated as Sehun pestered him as he worked on Baekhun’s computer, and to make sure that he had the perfect view of you walking away. When Jongdae made trips upstairs to fix computers that 9 times out of 10 weren’t actually broken, he’d see glimpses of your form walking amongst the halls or overhear your voice not too far away. No matter where he is, you’re somehow always close by.

Soon Sehun’s daily annoying calls turn into sort of productive ones. He somehow keeps having computer trouble and specifically asks for Jongdae himself each and every time. At the possibility of seeing you and the threat of a single and possibly fatal phone call to Junmyeon, who would do anything for that annoying twink, Jongdae has to come each and every time. Each and every time Jongdae goes, the “issues” that Sehun has are almost always an easy fix: turning the computer off and on again when it froze, stop downloading malware from weird websites so the computer won’t freeze, stop going on weird websites, stop playing dress up Barbie games on said weird websites, reducing the zoom from 150% to 75%, or simply plugging the desktop into the outlet. With each trip you and Jongdae got closer and closer. From saying a polite hello in the hallways as the two of you passed each other to awkward yet eager small talk to inside jokes and texting. Jongdae, ever determined, returned every hello, talked about the weather for as long as he could, and replied to each and every text in a timely manner. He’d do anything to make you smile, anything to see your ass in slacks and A-lines as you walk away with that sashay in your hips he loves so fucking much.

During this last trip where Sehun literally jammed a Wham! CD into the disk tray of his desktop, the fucker isn’t even there. When Jongdae arrives at his desk, exasperated and tired, he sees you, conveniently leaning against Sehun’s desk and scrolling through your phone. Or at least pretending to. Jongdae walks to the desk, trying and failing to come up with some sort of tsundere vibe that would impress you. All he manages is a squeaky and pathetic,”H-hey.” You already know he’s there, could already feel the tension in his shoulders from a mile away, but smile up at him in surprise anyway.

“Hey! So Sehun had to run out for a second-”

But at the mention of Sehun and his general headassery, the nervousness fades into annoyance.

“He went out for his ‘second’ lunch didn’t he?”

“-....okay, yeah. He should be back by now.”

“He won’t be back for the rest of the day.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s Sehun.”

After ripping the CD out of the desktop’s tray, Jongdae takes the time to look at you, really look at you, while you’re rambling about something that happened in the office today. He thinks about how months ago he had absolutely no idea who you really were. You were just an acquaintance, a faded memory for his occasional spank bank, but in the time he’s come to know you, he sees you’re much more than that. The two of you are friends, genuinely friends, and it’s something that Jongdae is incredibly grateful for. Of course he still finds you attractive, but as the two of you got closer, Jongdae realizes that he isn’t just interested in your cup size or the shape of your ass in those yoga pants you wear every single time he comes over for a Futurama marathon. While you go on and on about how Kris made a pass at you, the HR manager, Jongdae makes a reference to the sloth meme that’s been your joke for the past few days just to make you laugh. Of course you laugh, letting out the cutest and ugliest snort he’s ever heard, and that’s when he realizes it. He cares about you. Like, actually cares about you. Some time between hanging back at the office until either of you were done to get drinks after work and him teaching you how to play Magic the Gathering with old friends, he’d developed real actual feelings.

It’s a weird feeling, a weird thing to realize while you’re ugly laughing so loud that most of your office is looking at the two of you, but he kinda likes it. Kinda likes that he likes you. Maybe things weren’t so boring after all. That day Jongdae knew he had to ask you out, but just couldn’t figure out when. He had plenty of opportunities to, but he just couldn’t manage. Any time the two of you texted each other late at night or when you find solace in his coat while the two of you brave the harsh winter weather during your lunch break, or even during sorta cuddling but not really sessions while the two of you watched Firefly, Jongdae had the chance to ask you out but he was never brave enough to. He simply couldn’t gather the courage to do it.

It happens around Christmas Eve. The two of you were the only ones left in the building, save for some Janitorial staff who would also be gone soon, finishing up work that needed to be done before the New Year. With nowhere to go, the two of you decided to spend Christmas together with large cups of egg nog and a back and forth of tragic backstories that revealed the reason why you weren’t spending time with your families. When he walks into your office, Jongdae sees a mostly empty space that’s lost all remnants of you. All that’s left is the desk, a bookshelf, and one of your old chairs. All of the knick knacks and books are gone now, the fading scent of lavender being the only remaining remnant of your time there. You’re sitting in the middle of everything, working hard at your desk, as if none of your things are gone. Jongdae’s mind races to a variety of situations, most pertaining to you leaving and never coming back, so he asks,“Are you leaving?” Even though he doesn’t know the answer to this question, his heart aches something fierce. The idea of you leaving, even if he can just see you outside of work, is upsetting and so devastating that he might truly be upset by it.

You shake your head, finishing up what’s left of the possible report you’re typing, and say,”No. Just moving to the other side of the office. I’m gonna have a temporary cubicle with Sehun. Can you shut that door?” While he’s happy that you’re not leaving, his initial reaction to the possibility reveals feelings that are truly undeniable. Somewhere, in all of this, Jongdae suddenly finds a courage that hasn’t been there for most of the day. The two of you are alone in this god forsaken building at night with no Sehun or other colleagues to intervene. It’s here that Jongdae decides maybe, just maybe, this is the time to confess how he feels. To lay everything out on the table bare for you to see. As the soft click of the closing door echoes throughout the office and you get up briefly to grab your things, everything seems to finalize in that moment. He works up the courage to ask you out, thinking of all the ways you could easily reject him with a pitiful look in your eyes, but he wants to at least try. Just so he’s not left with a heartbreaking “what if” for the rest of his life. Jongdae’s eyes look away as he resigns himself to his fate and says,

”Honestly, Y/N, I’ve liked you for a while. Of course I appreciate our friendship and I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I was wondering if we could go out some time? We could get dinner or something - I mean I know we do that a lot, but I’ll take you somewhere nice and we can just-”

“Jongdae.”

“-dress up or something. But no pressure seriously! It’s fine I get if you’re not into me. Okay you’re not answering me or giving me any sort of tell so maybe I got the wrong idea. We can just forget all of this and move on. I just-”

“Jongdae.”

“-really hope we can still be friends. We can just go back to normal it’s no big deal. Fuck fuck I shouldn’t have said anything now it’s all awkward.”

“Jongdae!”

Jongdae looks up just in time to see your familiar black dress pool on the floor, your black heels kicking the offending fabric away. His eyes wander from your heels to the expanse of your legs, covered in black stockings, to the straps of your garter belt, barely holding onto the thickness of your thighs, to your lacy thong, up the expanse of your stomach, to your matching bra, and finally to your smirk. Your red lipstick, contrasting deliciously against the rest of your ensemble, makes Jongdae almost fucking lose it. Almost. He can’t pretend anymore or brush off your advances and claim it’s all in his head.

He’s here now with you, staring at the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and popping the biggest chub he’s ever had. You reach out for him, grabbing his limp hand and pulling him towards you, and place his hands on your hips. They tighten instantly, the lace bunching up slightly under his hands. Your smirk widens as you take in Jongdae’s shock, the absolute disbelief in his eyes, and you use that to push him down to the floor until he’s kneeling. Jongdae goes willingly, kneeling down immediately, and looks up at you with all the admiration in the world. You run your fingers through his hair and say,“Merry Christmas, Jongdae.”

Jongdae maintains eye contact with you as he lifts up your leg, leaning briefly to kiss your ankle and places the long limb over his shoulder. He stares at your lace covered center, nearly tasting the heat there, and whispers a soft and unbelievable,”Merry Christmas.”

Now, Jongdae hasn’t eaten pussy in a long time. Not since one of his ex girlfriends told him he was absolute shit at it. No matter how much he tried, she’d never fail to put him down and refused to tell him how to improve in any way. She was a bitch anyway, but it always left an impression on him. There’s something about your gaze though, as you look down at him, that makes him squirm with a feeling of complete and total helplessness. As your eyes watch him kiss at your thighs and generally put off what he could only assume is the main event, Jongdae feels a sense of guidance. A sort of safety net that ensures him that you’ll be there to put him back in line if he messes up. That you’ll tell him exactly what he needs to do and how he needs to do it. For some reason there’s a lot of comfort in that fact, comfort that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

There’s a sharp pain in his back that makes him wince. He arches away from it, only for the sharp to grow harsher as it twists. The firmness of it helps him realize that it’s the very edge of your heel digging into his back. “Don’t tease me,” you warn. It’s not a statement or a suggestion. It’s a command, a rule that leaves no space for breaking. So he leans in tentatively and gives little kitten licks, eyes closing as he focuses all his attention on you. You don’t moan or arch your back right away, but you do run your fingers through his blonde tresses again. He can feel your eyes on him, watching him as his licks get bolder and longer against your core. But Jongdae starts getting insecure, starts shrinking away and thinking that maybe he should just end this before it all goes to hell, but you pull him back by his hair to cup his cheek. “It’s okay, baby boy,” you smile, a complete 180 from before.

With renewed confidence, the IT manager gives it one more try. He gives you short kitten licks, nibbling and mouthing at your folds when he gets a little more comfortable. Jongdae’s licks make their way to your clit, honing in when you moan for the first time since you two started this whole thing. From what he can tell, your moans are precious and only delved out when he’s doing a good enough job to pleasure you. So he eagerly continues, trying all types of tricks with his tongue to pull more moans out of you. A handful of them work pretty well so Jongdae performs them again and again in different ways with the same level of incredible excitement. You end up riding his face anyway, grinding against his tongue with a fervor that he can barely keep up with. Your body begins shuddering from the sensations as you cum once and then twice on his tongue. Jongdae, always willing to prove himself, licks up your orgasm and lets out a moan of his own. He sucks at your clit now, letting it go to roll his tongue over the swollen nub, and starts palming himself in his slacks. He never thought he’d be doing this. Never thought he could be eating you out on your desk and getting off to it, getting off on all of it. Just when a hot pressure builds in his tummy, tight and sweet, the very tip of your heel digs into his back again. “Don’t you fucking cum, you pervert.”

The pain alone is enough to push Jongdae over the edge, but he somehow manages to get himself together. He lets go of the tent in his slacks and looks at you, waiting for your next move. You remove your leg from his shoulder with a little bit of help and lean against your desk again with your legs spread and Jongdae helplessly in between them. You cup his cheek briefly, letting a manicured finger brush his lower lip and ask, “Are you being a good boy, Jongdae?”

Now Jongdae’s never really been into bdsm or kink or anything weird like that. He’s never considered anything passed the occasional visit of pink fluffy handcuffs on especially exciting days or spanking. He hasn’t been that kind of guy or at least he never thought he would be. Until now. You towering over him and making him feel small and weak, pathetic even, is the most sexual excitement he’s had in a long time. So now as you hover a heel over the tent in his slacks and frown down at him, Jongdae can’t help but shudder at your appearance as you demand an answer. “Y-yes,” is all he says,”I’m being a good boy.” But that isn’t the right answer. Your heel makes contact with his cock, firm enough to give pleasure but light enough where Jongdae can say it’s too much and push away. He wants to do anything but that. When he doesn’t relent or get up to leave, you press your heel down harder with a lot less room than before. Jongdae cries out, shuddering and closing his eyes tight as he goes. The wet patch forming on his grey slacks where your heel used to be is the only tell of what happened without your permission. His cheeks redden with guilt as a flush slowly makes its way from his face to his neck. The guilt and shame is overwhelming. After dreaming about this moment for months, about seeing you like this and doing anything sexually, how could he fuck up this bad? How could he cum in his pants from that?

You grab him by his hair and pull tight tight tight and Jongdae can only brace himself on your thighs as he gathers his bearings. He feels so sloppy, mussed up hair and tie in a disarray, and dirty, face still covered in your orgasm and softening cock encased in cum stained boxers. Although you’re furious with him, clearly more disappointed than Jongdae is, in the tightness of your hold his cock twitches and bobs for more. He needs more, absolutely needs to see how far the two of you can go with whatever this is, but it won’t happen unless you’re on board too. “You’re a naughty boy, Jongdae. Maybe I should just head home alone if you’re not gonna take this seriously.” Fuck. Jongdae desperately wants to fix this, desperately wants to make you proud of him again, but he just doesn’t know how. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I want it,” he tries as he looks into your slowly approving eyes,”I wanna be a good boy.” You like that answer enough to let him go, but you’re still very disappointed. You release your grip from his hair and take the time to look over your manicured nails and ignore Jongdae entirely. He takes your threat very seriously, your disinterest making it clear that he still has a chance of changing your mind.

“Please, Y/N, please-”

“Mistress.”

“What?”

You don’t repeat yourself and Jongdae’s left trying to figure out what it means in his post orgasmic haze. Then it clicks. “Mistress, please. I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

“Top shelf, towards the back.” Jongdae scrambles, genuinely scrambles, over to your bookshelf towards the door to grab a small foil from the very back of the top shelf. Just how long were you planning this? He tears the small package with his teeth and rolls the lubricated condom onto his cock. When he turns around to face you once again, you’re bent over your desk and looking over your shoulder. Jongdae stares at you for a time, wondering how on earth he got so damn lucky. He’s not quick enough, not taking advantage of this beautiful opportunity, because you say,“If you don’t make me cum, I’ll find someone who will.” Before he realizes it, his legs are moving on their own. Jongdae pulls down your thong, groaning when he has to use a little more force to get it passed your thighs, and pumps at his cock. You wiggle your ass just enough to get him going, but stop when he begins to line up his cock.

The mushroom head presses against your entrance, slowly but surely pushing until Jongdae is entirely sheathed. He’s not huge, but you can still feel him pulsing away. You’re full enough and that’s what matters. Jongdae slowly thrusts, getting used to the tight hot heat, and trying desperately not to cum so soon. He’s only had his hand for the passed few months and no matter how good his hand is, nothing compares to the real thing. You’re impatient though and don’t really care what’s going on with Jongdae. It’s not that you want him to fuck up again, but that’s exactly what you want. The opportunity to punish him, to further humiliate him, is something that you look forward to. There’s no way you’re letting him go after tonight, absolutely no way.

You reach behind you and pinch his thigh, giggling at the unabashed resulting moan he lets out. “Pain slut,” you coo as his hips stutter. The pinch works. Jongdae’s hips move faster and deeper, a concentration going as he focuses on making you feel good. You hold onto your desk and rock your hips to meet his, moaning aloud as Jongdae focuses all of his attention on you. His cock rubs against your walls, slipping out briefly due to his excitement before finding its way back inside of you with a helpful hand. This pace continues, growing more and more brutal as your moans grow louder and uncontrolled. Jongdae moans along with you, at the very feeling of you clamping down on his cock as you cum for the first time. He chases that feeling, angling his hips to hit your g-spot on every single thrust. Your moans ring throughout the office now, along with the sound of skin slapping skin. While you love that Jongdae’s absolutely rocking your world, you want to have even more fun. You bring your hand back once more to pinch and twist Jongdae’s thigh. His hips stutter again as he hisses and cries out, but continues regardless of the newfound pleasurable pain.

“Mistress,” he pants,”I can’t...I can’t do it. Please let me cum.” You’ve got him right where you want him. You smirk as you rock your hips against him and say,”I don’t know, baby. I haven’t cum yet.” Jongdae whines because he knows you’re lying. He’s felt you cum a few times already, your heat gripping his cock viciously while your body jerked and cried out, but now you’re lying.

In the heat of it all, you manage to push Jongdae away from you slightly so that you can sit up without being connected to him. You turn around to face him before sitting on the edge of the desk once again and spreading your legs. You take the time to look at him, really look at him, and smile with something like adoration as you take in his flushed form. Jongdae stands there, unsure but willing, as he looks at you in return. His hand finds his cock, swollen with need, but refuses to stroke as if he’s afraid of disobeying you. Even though he’s only just got into kink and bdsm and the like, he’s surprisingly obedient. “Do you wanna make Mistress feel good?”

Jongdae nods feverently, refusing to move neither his hand nor himself, and waits calmly for you to call him over. You stare at him for a time as his resolve cracks and breaks, whining and pleading tumbling from his swollen lips, “Please, Mistress, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything you want.” In that moment, with his eyes tearing and voice watering, Jongdae is capable of doing just about anything to get what he wants. But it’s Christmas and this weird holiday confession turned into something Jongdae wasn’t at all expecting. So you motion him over, call him a good boy as he slides back into you, and run a hand through his hair as his hips start again. Giving him what he wants does nothing to calm the whines down, Jongdae’s whines get louder if anything as he nears his release. The noises he makes is enough to make you cum again as the need to take care of Jongdae fills you. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you promise, moaning yourself when he brushes against that special spot inside you again,”You’re such a good boy right? Always a good boy.” “A-always a good boy,” he whimpers back at you,”I wanna be your good boy.”

While the feeling of Jongdae grinding against you is enough to make you cum a thousand times over, it’s time to end all of this. You don’t want him dropping in your old office without even really knowing what dropping is. “Cum, baby.” The hand in his hair, the nurturing voice, the wet friction of your pussy sucking him in, it’s too much. With another “good boy” kissed into his mouth, Jongdae cums in the condom. Cums for the second time that night and the hardest time in his entire life.

Aftercare is had on Christmas at your loft downtown after a 15 minute taxi drive. Jongdae is held and cherished and asked questions about what he liked and didn’t like about the night. He liked everything, loved everything, and insisted that the two of you do it again as soon as possible. You promise him a nice date on the day after Christmas with steamed buns. For now, Jongdae is fine with Futurama marathons on Christmas with stew and beer. Jongdae relishes this promise and all of the warm things to come while spooning you especially close that night.

But little does he know that none of these things would come to pass. You wouldn’t get to go on that date you promised. The two of you wouldn’t talk for a time. Sehun’s phone calls would stop coming in abruptly and soon you would be barely around for Jongdae to talk to. The next time Jongdae would see you, truly see you, was when you were with an old friend of his who just started working at the office.

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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years

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8: So Be It

“Church.” They. We. John had for so long only been responsible for his actions. Wake up, brush his teeth, eat breakfast, read, eat lunch, read, ignore the voice through the vent, read, dinner, read, lights out, staring out into the darkness until he finally drifted away, wake up, brush his … “Church.” And everyday she pulled him out of that routine. That first week John resented Mike McGuire for it. He wanted to curse her for her ignorance. This morning he had just finished a bowl of oats. He knew Mike was still doing some wrap up getting her number two up to speed to run her business. He knew that he’d be able to dig into another … That’s another thing that perplexed him. He woke up one morning last week to see a box of assorted books in front of the door of the guest room. It was never brought up. But every dinner was over a different movie on the television. Every training session was in tandem and was always accompanied by strategy. What was the future of their tag team? What does he think of his opponents? What does he need to do to succeed? But that Saturday morning, John had just cracked open a book about the life and death of Nikola Teslawhen she said it was time to go. They could make a trip of it towards Baton Rouge and then catch a flight back back North to Boston after the Friday event. “Church!” His blank stare out of the passenger’s side window was startled by a sharp yet ultimately harmless jab. He turned away from the endless farm fields and turned to the driver. “Yeah?” “You with me, buddy? You looked a million miles away just then.” The reverberations of the powerful engine of her muscle car, a gaudy yellow late model Mustang, certainly aided in that distance. The red leather seats creaked softly as John adjusted his seat and sat straight back up. “I’m okay.” “Good,” she smiled, looking almost at peace behind the wheel, the sun on her face, “You got any ideas? Tons of stuff to do on the way there. Pick something. Anything you want.” “I don’t know,” John looked back out the window and saw the handwritten sign about the man with no vocal chords, “I always lived out west. Even when I traveled,” John paused, perhaps considering his words,“when I traveled it was the same loop. The hotel, the gym, and the arena.” “I did that stuff too. Livened it up a bit though, used to go bar hopping a lot. Man, some of the crawls I did were fuckin’ eeeepic,” she snickered to herself a bit, “You wanna do something like that? I know all the best places.” “I don’t drink. Never have,” John had started to understand that some of his social interactions were unintentionally blunt, “but …but don’t let that stop you.” “Okay, fair enough. Well, there’s a travel guide in the glove compartment there. Should have some stuff of interest en route. Leaf through it an’ see if there’s anything that catches your eye.” “Surprise me,” John had almost tried to stop himself from saying that. He hated surprises. He liked his routine. He hated his routine, too. It was too familiar and was born of a sense of minimization. Mike responded with that wide grin and accelerated past a semi truck. Some more time past and John could feel himself getting lulled into the sights as the farm plains transitioned into the rocky corridors of West Virginia, “Fine. This time. But sometime between now’n Baton Rouge you’re pickin’ something. We’re doing this together, y’know,” she drove a bit longer, eyes flicking to the exit signs and the flow of traffic, before speaking up again, her cadence that of a person watching their words when unused to doing so, “Hey. Sorry to bring this up again, but it’s kinda been buggin’ me. That thing a while back. With Emma. What was it about? You like her or somethin’?” He’d almost forgotten. The woman certainly had, “I, uh, would consider it a Freudian slip,” he felt that Mike sometimes walked on eggshells around him about these subjects and she most likely did not want a repeat of what could be the catalyst of this whole ordeal. He had heard and read what people thought of him. Amongst all of the requests to end his own life, people had legitimate questions and concerns. He was artful in his ability to dodge the questions about his past and his even more surreal present. John cleared his throat, “Look, I’m not sure. She, I mean, you know …” He danced around it for so long and in the eyes of the public, they painted him as dull or even some masterful sociopath disassociated with the act and its victim. “Mike, I, I’m just not sure. The dispositions were nothing alike but the shine of her eyes, her hair — they were a reminder. So to answer your question: I don’t like her. I mean, I don’t dislike her. She’s just a competitor,” he continued to struggle as Mike listened with her eyes intently on the road, “I don’t know why I’m back. I’d been forgotten and now, I’m here talking with you and now doing what I always wanted to do. I don’t talk about it because I don’t know what to say. I can barely remember what happened. I’d been grilled and grilled over details that I just didn’t know. I had finished a show and it was called it Beware the Ides of March. It was in reference to whatever the main event was. I’d opened the show and was the first person out because Reno was my hometown. The promoters like that sort of thing, you know? It was twenty minutes away from the apartment. I was alone which was the usual at this stage. I was woken up from my bed the next morning with a loud knock,” John sighed, “and well, there’s been plenty of discussion about it. It’s been in print, on the TV, so it doesn’t bear repeating. I was where I was at and now I’m not. I don’t think… I, I, I belonged there.”   “Okay. S’ all I wanted to know,” she let it go at that. She didn’t want to dwell on that particular subject, she supposed, any more than he did. Her fingers drummed on the crimson leather cover of the steering wheel. Letting a pause linger for a bit, she smiles over at him, artfully letting the subject pass for a new one, “Mind if I turn the radio on?” “Okay.”   “Master conversationalist as always, my man.”   Chuckling softly, she turned the dial on the radio- what would be considered an old-school affair, no Sirius or even a cassette deck. She kept it true to the rest of the vehicle on her rebuild, even though she was well aware she could’ve put in something more modern.   “Lessee… gospel… country, ugh… fuckin’ disco… goin’ to hell, yeah yeah… HERE we go,”   she landed on a rock/metal station, by lucky happenstance at the tail end of a commercial break. The band was a classic and it pleased her. TNT, it’s dyno-mite, “FUCK. YEAH. … This cool with you? You an AC/DC person?” John looked into the rear view mirror and they were all alone in this stretch of road as it cut and curved throughout the high walled rock landscape, “It’s not really something to have an affinity for but if you’re going to put me on the spot, alternative current based equipment just have better life expectancies.” She paused for a moment, blinked, and laughed, “The band, Church. The one on the radio. Right now.” John looked at her blankly then at the radio and then back at her, “I know. I was just playing around. This is fine.” “A’ight, cool. Lemme know if you get sick of it, I’ll find somethin’ else,” she drove on, the road spreading out like a ribbon of asphalt before them. John didn’t. He just listened. Eventually this one faded out into static and Mike had to keep turning the dial past all of the sludge. He almost objected a few times but he also remembered the old adage that the driver is the master of the radio. An hour or so passed and finally Mike finally just turned off the radio for the mean time. The mountainous terrain eventually gave out to a thick wooded view. “Hey. Just so y’know, I believe in you. I know how fuckin’ corny that sounds, but I do. I like t’ think I have an eye for these things and I really think I’m lookin’ at the next TV champ,” she paused, maybe placing her words, maybe for effect, “Something you said really stuck with me. I think you figured out a question I’ve been askin’ myself for years without me even askin’ you, in a conversation that wasn’t even about me. Weird’s that sounds.” Earlier that week, the company had arranged for another sit down interview. By virtue of defeating the former champion, Bishop Church had earned the #1 contendership for the Television Championship. What stood before him was his greatest challenge and the company wanted some face time from both their champion and challenger. So once again, John sat in the hot seat. Despite Mike being there, that tense feeling did not dissipate. John fiddled with the microphone clipped to the collar of his t-shirt while Ace Heart flipped through a stapled packet of papers held steady with a clipboard. “Careful with that. The audio technicians hear every time you touch the clip.” John stopped and sat up straight in his director’s style chair, “Okay.” “So here we are again. Before we start, you gotta tell me, why did you delete your Facebook account?” “I don’t trust Zuckerberg. You ever get the feeling that he’s not giving straight answers.” Ace scoffed at that, “Look, Bishop, we set that up for you as a way for you to speak to your fans. You had 150,000 followers and then all of a sudden, you 86’d it.” “I just … didn’t want it. I’m here for this, isn’t that what you wanted?” Ace raised his hands perhaps feigning indignation, “Yeah, that’s right. You’re here. For this. Whatever this will be.” Ace signaled to the camera man and crew to start filming. “Dr. Pepper presents an Extreme Wrestling Corporation live interview on Facebook Watch. I’m Ace Heart and this is Bishop Church.” John nodded. Ace sighed, “Splendid. So since we last talked it seems like your circumstances have made a 180 degree turn. You’ve managed to dispatch Emma Louise, Chris Chambers, and most recently former Television Champion Kendrick Kross one after another. Most notably this is the same Kendrick Kross who unthroned Ruthless Aggression at Stranglemania. Now three days after you face Malice at Friday Night Rampage, you get your first shot at gold against Ruthless Aggression at Monday Night Brawl. Most recently, she impressively defeated a man twice her size in Grizzly Duggan and retained the TV title. Now she stands before you - your biggest match to date, what say you?” “She-“ “Swear to God, if you say she seems nice, this is over.” John’s eyes narrowed at the interruption but just seconds later, his expression relaxed. He turned to face the camera. “Ahhh, women. Women, women, women, women, women.” Ace’s reaction is one of abject horror but he was helpless to stop as John continued. “What are women like? What do women want? How should I treat a woman? Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to find a woman at all. I’ve been staking out for hours looking for one and the closest I got was this fellow.” The camera shot cut to Mike, unknown at this to all viewers, chowing down on a ham and cheddar sandwich at the catering table. Back to John, the camera shot tightens in on him, “Where are all the women?” He then turned back to the interviewer, still frozen, “Is it all perhaps an elaborate fraud?” Finally, “CUT!” Ace exploded right after the cameras turned off, “What the FUCK was that? What are you even talking about? Your opponent is a woman. Half of the roster are women. Why can’t you just answer my questions?” He then shouted to the assistant off screen, “Where’s his goddamn handler? Saint assured me that I wouldn’t have to put up with this shit anymore.” As if on cue, Mike stepped into the interview set and stood in face to face with Ace while seemingly shielding Church from him, “Partner, okay? Not handler. Partner. Got it?” “Okay Bishop’s partner, can you explain why every interview with this guy turns out to be a waking disaster? In my nearly twenty years of thousands, literally thousands of interactions, I’ve interviewed them all. Every hall of fame inductee, every champion, every one that mattered in this industry has had the decency to answer my questions and yet talking to this guy is like squeezing blood from a stone.” “I’m still here,” John mumbled. “Ignore him, Church. Your right-hand man’s got your back. Just forget about that guy for a sec. It’s not his fault he ain’t got no class or sense of professionalism.” “Why I never!” “Go trim the ‘stache or something. And you there, sweetcheeks, gimme that camera,” there was a bit of a jitter on the picture as the camera was either handed over or taken forcefully, and adjusted by its new operator. Ace Heart shrugged his shoulders and there was an exodus of company crew from the set, “Just like before.” John nodded. The shot came back to life. John stood behind the right director’s chair and looked deep in thought. The camera zoomed out as the new cameraperson struggled with the controls. After a moment, Mike managed to follow his movements. “I’m starting to understand it,” John gestured, “you know, the necessity of all of this. This sport is fueled on the idea of conflict and the reasons for those conflicts vary. Sometimes it is simple. Two people not liking each other. Sometimes there is something at stake. Bragging rights, money, or in the present case: championship gold. And this is a business after all so it’s not just the contest itself. It’s also the circumstances that led up to and surround the bout. That’s why there is all of this pomp and circumstance. Does it really matter what I say here? Will these words truly have an affect on what happens in that squared circle? Actually, yes. And that is what is expected of me.” John took a seat, although he tilted the chair facing forward. “Expectations, right? There are certain expectations on how I should conduct myself. Smile for the camera. Talk to the people. Tell them why I’m the best. Or don’t. Be absolutely abhorrent. Be a disgusting caricature of humanity. Also them why I’m the best. That’s not me. Reevaluate your expectations. I talked a little bit about what people have seen in me thus far and I expect that afterwards, they perhaps had to reconsider. That’s how we got here. I was asked a question on how this stage was set. If you’re watching this, you probably saw just how that happened.” He paused. John so much wanted to keep this internalized. He felt nervous talking about himself but he didn’t feel the need to deflect. He wasn’t so naive to know that she wasn’t the only one listening but just the hypothetical idea of it allowed him to continue. “The former champion stated that he needed this. Essentially he believed that a victory over me would be a turning point. He didn’t see me as viable. He didn’t think of me as a peer. He concluded that I was just here to collect a paycheck. He misjudged me. He underestimated my passion for the sport of professional wrestling. And so he learned in this cruel world that needs aren’t always fulfilled. His story has to carry on with the knowledge that all of the accolades and comeback aspirations evaporated in the space of three seconds. Thus is the cycle of life. That cycle brings us to the idea that I am a contender now.” He shifted in his seat and sat forward. “This is my very first championship opportunity. Never before have I had to chance to compete with stakes so high. Some could say that I need this but that would be oversimplifying it. Think about it. Think about who I am. Not what you see and read but who I am right now. Do I need to be champion like I need air to breathe? Do I need it for financial security? I guess it would be nice but as the camera shakes to and fro, I’m not just here for material objects. What about for love?” John chuckled softly. “As ridiculous as that sounds, the history books are filled with pages of men and women who take advantage their standing for their romantic desires. How about just to make myself feel better? That journey isn’t so trivial that gold plates screwed into a leather strap will clear the path. And so what it comes down to that what a man can be, he must be. So that addresses the match itself. If I can become champion, I must become champion. But that isn’t the end of it, is it, Ruthann Hunter?" For this whole time, he waxed hypothetical to the masses but his meandering questioning tone changed to a more direct one as he began to address his opposition. “If it was, you would have ridden off into the sunset long ago.” The genesis of Mike prodding John into the proverbial sunlight will most likely never meet the air. She had went to check in on him early his stay and she discovered notepads filled with amended notes of his opponents. Who they are. What they do. How John could neutralize their abilities and come out on top. And most noticeably notes on what they said about him. Real statements and all he could manage was nonsense. It wasn’t until his exchange with Ace here that she noticed that it was very intentional. “This is where I would go into that tired song and dance about who you are. You are a living legend and I’ll be the exception. I could say that I would stand fast against the ruthless aggression and persevere. Let me stand up here and I could raise my voice and snort and chortle about my destiny.” John shook his head. “But none of us know what the future holds for us. I can’t make that promise. I want what you have. That’s human nature. We always want what we don’t have. This sport is like a microcosm of life. Look no further than the former champion. Look at the desperation in his words even when he was proud and boastful against you. Due to this being a competition, we usually absolve ourselves of what affect we have on the vanquished. Think about that, won’t you? Someone somewhere in an office gets a promotion over someone else. Maybe that person that failed needed the money more. Maybe they have a crippling disease. In our world - who cares? So the former champion was right on one thing, we all see each other as stepping stones. We all see each other as that obstacle to self-actualization.” He stands up and moves closer to the camera. “And so we go about and we both say this to each other solemnly. I don’t care about your legacy. I don’t care about your family. I don’t care what you have done in the past. I don’t care about what losing could do to your ego. All of that does not matter in the confines of the ring. In that moment, we are two demigods engaged in a struggle that could ravage the earth. The ground could fall to pieces all around us as we were locked together and all that would matter is our musculature straining as we resisted each other’s powers. Our bodies would be intimate in ways no mere mortal could comprehend.” And for this, he did raise his voice. “That is what matters.” And back to a low conversational tone. “This isn’t about redemption. I’m here to take what is mine. And if that has to be on the backs of the broken and beaten…” Closer. “So be it.” Mike’s epiphany was punctuated as the car hit a pothole. They rattled about, “What do you mean?” “Ooof! Shit. Sorry. What I mean is… I kept hittin’ fucking walls. I got a bit of momentum here an’ there but I never got no place because I kept hittin’ walls and I could never think of what the hell was wrong with me. And I never HAVE been able to figure it out until you said it. I didn’t have enough… I dunno. Killer instinct seems really fuckin’ cliche but that thing you were talking about. Having t’ not worry about other people, what they were like or what their dreams an’ motivations might be, long’s you’re in between those bells,”   her eyes, no, her entire expression was alight, as if she’d just seen the writing of God or heard the prophecies of Mohammed or gotten the truth of the universe from benevolent space aliens , “I kept holding back, I think. Not… consciously, but on some level I cared too damn much about the other guy when I shouldn’t have.” “Mike, the battlefield is the only place where those virtues that the good covet become a weakness. I’m glad you understand. It’s ignoring that very distinction that creates the overabundance of negativity that permeates the landscape of the company,” John reached over and put his left hand over the middle space and on gently on her right forearm, “We can be that change. I mean, a real change. Let’s not kid ourselves - what we do in the ring will be for selfish reasons but outside we can discover who we are - who we are meant to be.” Mike gave a small gasp inward while trying not to look like she was gasping inward. This was huge. She was a physical person, her affection for a person was accompanied by a shower of hair ruffles, noogies, playful jabs, and other forms of fond roughhousing. She’d held back with this somewhat as it had become apparent to her that John wasn’t exactly the touchy feely sort. So for him for once to initiate physical contact with her… it was so overwhelming almost that she— “Look out!” “Oh FUCK!” Mike suddenly swerved away from a brown blur in their line of site. They could hear a loud thud as something smashed against the right headlight of the car and then into the side mirror on the passenger side. As Mike, rather expertly regained control, John turned his head and could see the tail end of the culprit dart into the woods. Mike put the car to stop in the breakdown lane free and clear. She cut off the engine, “You alright?” “Yeah.” “Good. Okay. We’re okay. Shit,” she closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths and willing her heart not to burst through her ribcage and slow the hell down already, “I’m gonna go check out the damage. Fuck. Hopefully nothin’ I can’t fix,”   carefully scanning the traffic, Mike exited the Mustang and took a look at what’s been done to her labor of three years. Thankfully, nothing much. The passenger side mirror was torn loose, there were some significant but not horrific dents, but probably the worst were the liberal traces of blood and fur all over the affected area. It was going to be a bitch to clean up. Still, it could have been much, much worse. Meanwhile, John faced the trees, “You hear that?”   “No… hear what?” Admittedly, she was a little preoccupied with the state of her vehicle. John could hear a pained yowl. He started towards the source of the noise. “H-hey, hold up!” Reaching in through the passenger door and pulling her 8-ball keychain out of the ignition, Mike followed her counterpart away from the car and off to wherever he was heading to. John hurried through the first rows of large trees until he reached a small clearing. He could see it. A young female deer laid out in the leaves, twigs, and debris of the forest. It’s eyes were wide in the realization of its situation. Blood seeped out large gash on its neck and it also trickled out of the corner of its mouth. It gasped and fought for every breath. John’s shadows loomed over its dying body. Mike finally caught up to him. “Oh. Oh, geez. Poor thing. Shit. What do you do in this situation, I know this… okay. You call the cops for the accident, the park service or some shit to take care of the deer… goddamnit. I’m sorry, Church. This was supposed to be fucking fun,”   sighing, she fished in her pocket for her phone. “I hope it goes without saying that any interaction with the police may not be beneficial to me,” John knelt down next to the animal. “Oh. Fuck, sorry,” she wasn’t in the mood to argue the point, and shakily dropped the phone back into her pocket, “Hey… what’re you doing? I don’t think there’s much you can do for her at this point.” “Give me your knife.” She closed her hand around the four-inch object in her pocket- a utility Swiss Army knife, mostly used for the screwdrivers and bottle opener, “What do y’want my knife fo… no. Church, nuh-uh. We can’t.” A little more assertive, “Give me your knife,” without facing her, he put his hand out with the palm up and he grasped for the knife to be placed there. “Fuck. Shit,” biting her lip and with obvious hesitation, she took the knife out of her pocket and placed it in his hand. Hers trembled in a manner very unlike her. John looked down at the multi-tool and used his thumbnail to flick open the blade. He stared down into his reflection in the sharp sliver of steel. The deer flailed its once strong legs in a helpless fashion unable to control its motor functions. The smell of urine and feces wafted throughout the air and its blood began to pool and carpet the foliage under its neck. “I’m sorry it had to be this way,” the blade pressed against its throat. “So be it.”

#archive

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baldtaelovemaze · 6 years

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Love me for me (1)

What kind of love story starts with two people locked in a classroom and ends with the two same people in a courtroom? This one. After unfortunate circumstances, Venice is forced to illegally change her identity and live as a boy in a all boys school.

She planned everything out. Every. Single.detail. but no matter how much she tries, she can’t stop herself from falling for the son of one of the biggest lawyers.

Is loving the man of her dreams worth years in jail?

Reader (OC) X jungkook ft.Taehyung

Warnings: mature language

Words: 3k

"Dear Miss. Abass, unfortunately, your demand at Yale University has been Rejected-"

“fuck”

Orbs clouded, I rip apart the letter. The torn cream pieces dance with the wind my fan generates and I watch them gracefully fall to the floor, blending perfectly with the wood.

Years of studying, isolation, practically not having a social life I forced upon myself to proudly become a valedictorian graduate but everything i did was in vain.

On the floor lays the last piece of hope I once clung on to. Now crushed under the weight of disappointment and failure, my chest hitches as I desperately try to hold back a sob. Water gathers at the rims of my heterochromia eyes. Left one a muddy green and the other a murky blue with a tinge of that same muddy green who manages to stick out no matter what like I do so very well. Intentionally or not.

I don’t cry, instead, I sniff away all the mucus who threatens to slide down my nasal passages and roll myself into bed.

For a moment, the smell of the freshly cleaned sheets and my dearest pillow make me forget of the hell hole I am in, of the chains that confine me.

That moment is short-lived when it all comes back rushing down on me like a wave. These chains that I have, invisible to the human or anything supernatural expect me. This rope around my neck who never ceases to tighten as time goes by.

I ponder on this fact. Or is it a question? It’s something I definitely know the answer to. So a fact it is.

The chains that hold me aren’t emotional or even close to physical. Nor did I ever do anything to earn them but that’s how the system works.

The system refused every single application I sent to prestigious universities. Not one of them accepted me even after they had contacted me for scholarships offers. Claiming that “my chosen classes were already full and to try elsewhere.’

It wasn’t a coincidence. Out of everyone, I should know that. Because I knew the system far too well.

That system chained me without even binding my wrist to chains, that system took my freedom away without truly stripping me of my rights, that system tied a noose around my neck and is waiting for any given occasion to rip away the chair from under my feet.

The system doesn't want my education to blossom. the system wants me to settle for less every time then die. That’s our government. the system is our government and it’s trying to kill me off.

I could apply at a community college and get accepted in mere seconds but that's what they want. That is their plan and no matter what, I will not succumb to it, not after seeing how it ended for father. Not after seeing that.

I gulp at the thought of him. My body and mind react instantly at the mere idea of my father. My breathing becomes ragged and I sense my palms get clammy and sweaty. The noose around my neck feels like it got ten times tighter. Even though nothing is truly there, my brain acknowledges the hard rope covered in sharp split ends digging at the skin of my neck. My hands who once were tucked underneath the pillow flock to my neck, grasping around nothing but my own skin.

I seal my eyes shut and begin chanting the only thing that calms me down during my breakdowns.

“A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I....”

the alphabet, something you often associate with learning toddlers full of life and not a 19-year-old having a nervous breakdown.

“J, K, L, M, O, P, Q, R, S!!” I scream loud, frail body shaking like a leaf as I try my best to block out the nose, block out the shots and the footsteps who are threateningly close. I hiccup between a sob when I feel his big greasy hands grip my long ebony hair, yanking me back painfully, he throws my whole body across the room.

what letter was I at? I forgot. Now I can barely breathe. I frustrate the man furthermore. I know this when he yells “shut the fuck up. Make another sound and your lovely mother gets it.” I open my eyes and stop breathing altogether. She lays on the floor.

I shake my head, clearing my mind of theses awful flashbacks as I shoot up from bed to reach for the pieces of paper, crumble them into a tiny ball and neatly shoot them in my plastic dollar-store basketball net who hangs just above the door. It hits the rim before falling on the floor with a plop.

“damn, where did my basketballs skill go?” I ask my self, feeling slightly better due to the self-pity that seems to have eaten me whole.

The alphabet always calms me down, it brings me back to earth when I need it the most -when my anxiety decides to lock me in my painful past.

My back now on the bed, I look at my white ceiling, its time to think rationally, like an adult - I smile to myself. Like an adult, huh? I quickly recognize the fact that most adults don’t actually know what they are doing. Most of the time they let themselves get dragged with the wave. Some try to overpower the water while others succumb to it and others find a way to float, to stay on the surface no matter how strong the storm gets.

I huff a breath of defeat "what am I going to do? It was the last one on the list.” I toy with my phone. I run my fingers against its smooth metal surface all while making sure to not unlock it by accident with the touch ID.

I've been ignoring Haerin’s messages for a while now.

I frown, hoping that she won’t misunderstand and think that I a mad at her.

the screen lights up.

Haerin: Don’t worry I know that you’re not mad at me or anything but I'm just worried.. plus I kinda miss your ugly ass so text back soon. I can’t believe you’re making me seem like a desperate hoe by ignoring all my text. Your fuckgirl mode has, unfortunately, been activated :/ [2:45]

I snort. Not being able to ignore her for any longer, I text back.

Me: I usually don’t text girls back after we fuck... but ur kinda special so come over or whatever... [2:46 pm]

Haerin: omg okay daddy! I’ll bring take out that way my ass won’t be the only thing you’ll eat today! I'm omw bitch you have some explaining to do. [2:46]

I chuckle and lock my phone.

With the stretch of my limbs, I'm out of bed and I beeline straight to the bathroom.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. “fucking hell, I barely look alive.”

after peeing and a quick face wash, I stand in front of the mirror and notice that my pixie cut may need a trim soon. I can’t ever let my hair grow past my ears and I rather not think about the reason behind this -not yet at least, not yet.

I watch the clear droplet of water cling on to the curl near my forehead before dropping and rolling down my tawny skin. I can’t help but to glance down at my neck, it’s red. I pray that I won’t bruise. I take in the fact that my new skin care routine has been working marvelously. From my high cheekbones, my narrow chin and slightly protruding forehead my skin is spotless.

"Venice, you little thot, I have arrived in your domicile"

I jump in surprise at first. After a smile covers my plump lips when I realize who that voice belongs to. I step out of the bathroom which is linked to my room and meet the fake redhead.

In a matter of seconds, I am engulfed in her tight embrace. Face hidden in the crook of her armpit I notice that the tall girl is wearing her favorite mustard hoodie.

I break the hug. “ I missed you too,” I say, gazing up at her through my short lashes. I see the worry in her slanted eyes but I know she isn’t judging, she never does.

“let’s talk, okay?” her voice is soft when she speaks. I nod and lead her to my bed.

A couple tears, three hugs, and many heartfelt words later, we lay diagonally on my bed. Looking up at the ceiling. With a shift in position, I look over at Haerin’s toes who never fail to not be ugly and stinky but who can blame her? She's an aspiring basketball player. Now I look up to her profile. It seems like the ceiling is long forgotten and that she is currently deep in thought, I can tell by the way her straight thick brows furrow and how she chews almost aggressively her full bottom lip. I Am caught red-handed when she suddenly turns at catches me staring.

“I've got an idea.” her lips part as she smiles, revealing the gap in the middle of her two front teeth that fits her so well.

“Shoot”

“How about we watch old Disney movies to take off some of your stress for today? let's deal this fucktard of a situation tomorrow. '' She pushes her elbow underneath her to lift herself. Her round glasses droop down the bridge of her nose but she's quick to push them back with the help of her lanky fingers.

I smiled at the idea. I ask myself how can someone be so pure and genuine sometimes.

''Okay, but just don't put anything with romance in it. I don't want to be reminded of the fact that the only thing I wake up next to in bed is my life-sized Makoto Tachibana pillow.'' My feet drag on the warm floor as Haerin intertwines her arm with mine. '' That's extremely sad and I hope that you'll throw it out once you get a boyfriend-'' she stops in her tracks and looks at me.

we both stare at each other only to explode with laughter.

''BAHAHA! I can't believe I just said that! You? a boyfriend? I think WinWin would finally be getting lines in songs before that happens.'' wiping away the tear that escaped, we go down the stairs and she grabs the laptop on the kitchen counter before plopping herself beside me on the sofa.

''Shut up you shouldn't be the one to speak here.'' I laugh back with her.

''Whatever ugly loser, go grabs snacks that way we can stuff our faces and I'll pick a movie'' She orders and am up in seconds.

''I know you said no romance but I still picked the Amanda Bynes movie She's the man '' Haerin informs me as I come back into the living room

I shrug my shoulders, indifferent.

''I don't care what we watch at this point, anything to get my stress down.'' I slur on my words near the end, taking a big fat handful of popcorn and shoving it down my throat.

'We could watch porn then'' she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and I pinch her left nipple.

''shut up and play the god damn movie.''

And with a click, the movie is playing and I am finally relaxing.

About an hour and forty-five minutes later the movie is done and you're left with a strange idea in mind.

''hey Haerin..'' you start off

her eyes squint, which suggests that she's thinking . ''hm?''

''Are you possibly thinking the same thing as me ?'' now my eyes squint, trying my best to read her expression.

'' If you are thinking about dressing yourself up as a male and infiltrating the all-boys prestigious Uni then yes, we are thinking the same thing!'' her grip on my wrists is tight and I feel light headed when she shakes me like a polaroid as soon as I nod.

''CALL CHRISTIAN RIGHT NOW! SOME MADAME DOUBTFIRE MAKEOVER SHIT IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN IN THIS BITCH!'' She screams at the top of her lungs.

"You called me here because am what?" Christian took place on the sofa beside me. Brows creased together, he leaned forward, as if he hadn't heard me the first time. He heard me perfectly fine. "Because you're the dude-dest dude I know and I need to learn how to become a dude."

He drowns himself deeper in the couch, taking a chunk of his locks between his fingers, he let out an exasperated "what kind of fucking drugs do you guys take to come up with this shit?" And shortly after "Okay, I'll help."

This was our relationship. Christian Yu a very stable young adult that happened to be my childhood neighbor. Even when I moved out of my mother's home, he never left me behind. Kind of like a big brother that allows me to do dumb shit only with his supervision.

"This might seem crazy but just trust me on this. It might work,"I reassure.

His eyes bulge “What exactly might work Venice please don’t tell-”

“I can’t keep living on like this. I don’t want to live a meaningless life all while knowing that I can achieve so much more. Just entering that school and studying to become a lawyer would be a huge step for me” my jaw clenches “Its a step towards my goal and..” nostrils flared, I watch Christian tense, the weight of my words slowly seep into his pores, completely changing his first resolve. “ I will fulfill it no matter what”.

“I understand what you want to do but wouldn't that be proving what the government is doing to people like you -no offense, right? You're just doing what they expect of the children of criminals, you're becoming one too” He remains tense. Lower lip stuck between his pearly teeth, Christian avoids eye contact.

“Reflect on this: What do criminals have in common?” I get up from the couch under the perplexed gaze of my friend.

Lips puckered, brows screwed together, he comes up with an answer quickly “Its simple, they do illegal things!”

“That's partially true but I want you do think of the biggest names in the dark world, the infamous one. What brought them together besides the fact that what they did was prohibited?” I am patient, smiling down at my friend who racks his brain fora retort. His wide shoulder slump, not knowing where exactly am I go going with this. I give in, choosing to spare him a brain burn out “they were all selfish.”

“W-What?”

“yes, it really is that simple.” I smirk “ Just think about it, All their lives, their goal was to enrich themselves, gain profit or some form of power. They were ready to do whatever it took to gain these things. Kill, steal ect. What separates me from them is that I am not only doing this for me but the others who suffer alongside me in silence. We both know that the system is wrong and should be taken down even if that means sacrificing the little freedom I have.” I exhale, coming back to sit near Christian on the couch.

He sighs, elbows now up on his tighs, he rubs his eyes. “Fine, I support you in this but please don't you dare end up in jail or else-”

“You’ll lose your mind since you can't live without her.” Haerin finally speaks. She had remained so silent I forgot that she was even there.

“Y-yeah, you're probably right actually, I don't think I can't live without either of my girls” he pipes, scooping both of us in his toned arms and engulfing us in a tight hug.

“Let me go, Chris, my face is literally buried in your armpits” Haerin whines.

“Then smell them!”

“Oh no, you don”t-”I send my knee in his crotch in a matter of seconds, making him groan in agony all while curling into a ball on the floor. Haerin stares unbothered, pulling out her phone and calling someone. The conversation is short but it leaves a smile on her lips when she hangs up.

"Okay whores, I just called the best makeup artist in town. After you get your lesson on how to become an owner of a dick and get a makeup lesson cuz god knows you struggling in that.." Haerin shakes her head and muffles a laugh with her hand when I pipe out “bitch.”

"You will go in the room and do what you have to do to make the world believe you are a man."

"Okay, let's start then!" the serious and somber mood is gone, excitement is now what is left behind. Am thrilled, justice pumps through my veins and it's only fueled more by the support of my friends. I can do this

"Okay let's start then...but no homo"

"I know I taught you to use 'no homo' but it doesn't mean you need to say it in every sentence, Venice," Christian shouts from the kitchen, watching the makeup artist teach me the basics on how to make my face look more masculine and the brands that stay on the longest.

Haerin had told her that we were just filming a really weird porno and the women weirdly enough, nodded as if what Haerin said was something that she had seen often.

A couple more minutes spent by my side and she was out of the house, I shooed Christian and Haerin out as well.

With years of fraudulent knowledge in my hands, creating a new identity would be a breeze.

What should my new name be?

I grab my phone and open the group chat

Me: I need Name ideas, got anything? [5:15]

Chris: keep it simple... something like Steve Duncan or whatever [5:17]

Haerin: Don't listen to this loser, Bob Mcniplecoker shall be your new name, beloved ;) [5:17]

Chris: i- [5:18]

Me: 00Ooo thank you Haerin! very cool! [5:18]

Chris: please don't tell me you're actually using that- why am I the only sane person in this group? [5:19]

I shut off my phone, content with the name and ready to get down to serious business. Hours and hours of serious business.

Creating a whole new identity sure was time-consuming.

The wait was over.

The letter who held my fate had arrived to my surprising displeasure. I huffed a breath of frustration. Why am I so nervous? With the grades I have, it is certain I’ll be getting in but why can't I open it?

The pretty creme letter waited for no one other than me to open it. I was first made known of its presence when I was taking a shit and my uncle so kindly slid it under the door when he was staying over for a couple days.

All Boys: Great Jeon University

I had just finished taking a shit but after re-reading the letter I felt like taking a second shit. Curling on the floor, my nose rose up in defiance as I glanced at the paper, still centimeters away from under the door.

Let's just open the letter and get this over with.

With trembling hands, I reached over to the letter but I at last second I let my hand fell back to my side.

This Is so stressful! Is it possible to vomit and shit your pants all at the same time? I shot up, heading to the sink determined, with a couple splashes of cold water on my face I stared at myself in the mirror, determined.

I pursued my full lips, taking in a pimple that formed right next to my thick brows. This stress is really getting to me. I know damn well that a pimple wouldn't have been there otherwise.

"Okay you big wuss, tear that shit open !" I gas myself up, finally picking up the letter, I rip the envelope, already expecting the worst.

"Dear Mister. Mcniplecocker, we are glad to inform you that you have been accepted-"

“Oh thank God...” relief washes down on me like a ton of bricks. ”Thank

god..”I exhale, I can't contain the small smile that forms on my lips.

"THIS CALL FOR DANGEROUSLY HIGH AMOUNTS OF CALORIES !" Haerin shouts, grabbing the takeout menu to order too much food and possibly max out her credit card. She is reckless and often thinks of the consequences after she does something but if she ever got in trouble with the law due to her shenanigans, me, a soon to be law student would help her.

Christian took his usual seat at my right and Haerin at my left on our favorite brown couch. They were here so often on this couch that their butts were permanently imprinted.

"I need to tell you guys about this girl I've met. She's older but I swear I've never seen a woman more beautiful" Christian gushed, tugging on my shirt. "Oh, my man is finally getting some action! I started getting worried for you I was almost going to ship you with Haerin."

The girl snapped her head to look at me at the mention of her name. "Excuse me? Me and Christian? I'd rather let your creepy pillow anime guy date me." She snickered and I scoffed "Bitch, you wish Makoto Tachibana would be with your dusty crusty ass plus you're acting like Christian is ugly! I mean he might be a lil on the grandpa side since he's so old but-"

He deadpanned. "I'm literally 25 ???"

"Anyways, in two months I'll be going to one of the most prestigious schools and I'll be a lawyer. If one of you ever gets in trouble with the law don't call me because I'll be the one making sure you go to jail." I joke, picking a movie on the laptop.

I was over the moon. Things were going my way and it felt good, so good.

"If you ever do get caught, who will defend you ?" Christian hesitated when he asked, not wanting to stress me.

"Don't jinx it, idiot. I won't happen, don't worry." Haerin leaned forward, taking my hand in hers and gave me a small smile not knowing that the damage was already done.

It was something that I ridiculously tried shoving at the back of my brain. It was something I needed to face. I was going to be a lawyer for crying out loud, I knew that I could face time in jail and fines I wouldn't be able to afford to pay.

It was something I was ready to risk. For my education. I was breaking the law in order to work as a person who enforced the law. How ironic.

"Yeah, don't jinx it, Chris."

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ot5 · 6 years

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@tllthesundies HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH!!!🎉💖🌸💞🎂✨💌💖💞💗🎊🎉🍾💗🎂💕💖✨🎊💖🌹🍾🎉💘💕💌🌻❤️✨🌷💞🎉❤️💝🎂💘

so for this special occasion i used my amazing photoshop paint skills to make u this taylourry manip since there’s an unfortunate lack of those:/ they’re baking you three (3) cakes how great is that😫 louis, of course, asked ‘how do you whisk’ all three times and taylor n harry just shared a look and fondly rolled their eyes at him. i like to imagine they were singing along to britney classics and also laughing about how louis’ album and lyrics will shake us to our core bc they live for that drama👀 and cant wait to watch us freak out. of course at some point louis started throwing flour at taylor &harry which ended up in a messy kitchen fight.

thanks for reading my mini taylourry fic excuse the lack of angst i kno you live for that shit but anyways as i was saying, happy birthday bith! i hope u have a great one!! i cant believe you've turned 20 today🤧 you were already settling down at the old age of 19 an now you’re entering the final Grandma stage *kylie jenner dabbing tears.gif* as an og violin i feel blessed to have followed ur journey and watched you grow up & to have experienced ur crazy crackhead days which i lowkey miss sometimes it was truly a blast with ur shit posts and you saying things that still haunt me in my sleep. since im getting Sentimental™ you know what else i miss in this chilis today? you getting asks & Interacting on here bc i recall thats what started my soft spot for u. you’re [louis voice] genuinely Genuinely one of the sweetest people ive seen on here like everytime you called someone crouton or replied with a row of heart emoji’s my heart grew 10 sizes bigger💗💗 i hate that my memory is shit and there’s no blog/archive anymore(rip in pieces we’ll get to that later) that i can search thru for those Receipts but i know not one (1) mean word has ever left your mouth, or keybord in this case, those are the Facts #confirmed by me! even back in the day when i was blissfully unaware of any drama and this hellsite was just a happy place u still stood out to me bc when you answered asks or whatever you were just so nice! kind! and sweet! and funny too i feel like u raised me on memes (i also appreciate that u tolerate me w my crusty sense of humor and memes from 2013) and tbh when i saw you were younger than me i was Shook bc you felt like an older sister to me with wise words and just this calm&kind presence on tumblr dot com where everyone always takes offense u were idk the word..... rational/nuanced/patient/understanding? ive thought it many times before but if everyone here were a bit more like you this place would be a nice valley filled with blossoming flowers sawying in a gentle breeze on a warm spring day🌻🌷🌸 (i know u prefer fall so u can represent a Quality Leaf too if u want and i’ll ship you w niall #neaf) anyway as my melancholic ass was saying, i sometimes miss @harryandlouisofficial /harryandlouisau? idk you’ve had your fair share of changes(as i was searching through my own blog for a certain pic i came across some deactivated urls that i think were yours lsdknvds) but that harryandlouis brand™ was truly You and just such a familiarity on my dash and tbh if i come across any blogs that start w harryandlouis im always side eyeing them for that copyright infringement of intellectual property. Even before we really started talking i already felt like i knew you bc you were always....out there...talking, yellin n sprouting bullshit which was [me as that gif of pam from the office tearing up] beautiful😫 like i didnt even know about the existence of the vampire diaries but u were practically screaming about it on a daily basis and lowkey got me to crush on nina dobrev bc of it also ur love for tom odell, soup, domestic hl, Angst, the midnight memories album, that purple suit harry wore to the late late show, birdy, those literature ppl whose names im not even gonna bother with, and of course taylourry & how do you whisk, they’re all filed under ‘Things That Belong To Violet’ and i kno yelling about thing or reblogging ask memes or doing those tag things doesnt go with ur Brand but i wish it did bc there’s so much i wanna know or ask or just see what you think about things👀 u could make a post saying ‘potato’ and eventho id disagree id still be over here giving a standing ovation

this is getting long im so sorry snlkdfnsld i was going somewhere but im kinda losing the plot. So anyhow the point was that ur an angel! and idk also intimidating to me back in the day? ive sent my fair share of anons (nice ones of course nskldnsf) and i vaguely rmr asking for advice a few times too and you were always so kind n wonderful🤧 and then one day i sent smth nice off anon and you followed me back even with the ugly ass url i had back then lfnvslknsd bless you and now here we are:) so i love getting sentimental and reminiscing about the old days but also know that i admire u for jus deleting and starting afresh! kween of rebranding!👏👏 and this tiddiesundays era feels like ur a professional business woman or maybe more like a professional writer who has that clean & calm aesthetic down to a T and i might’ve turned notifs on so i wont miss that one quality (1) post per day sdlknlksdn i love showing my Love thru liking and rb’ing a lot so you make it hard on me sometimes(rmr when we were each other biggest fans? good times😫) but jus kno my heart’s still beating the same yes thats a sad attempt at a oial ref bc that is also filed under the things that belong to u. i dont wanna like, overwhelm? you bc im sometimes afraid ill b too much but know that im always out here rooting for u &hoping that ur doing great bc this bitch has a lot of love and adoration for u!!💗 i know some v sweet people on here but you are just.....on another level like just your presence here clears my skin and puts a big smile on my face esp when u drag me or vice versa for having certain Opinons (like the 1d album or song discourse) dont @ me but ur truly one of my favorite people. One day when you give me the go ahead im gonna send you that card/letter and i’ll get even sappier (yes thats possible!) i was gonna wish you a sunny day but for some reason u love rain so...i hope it rains:’) or else you can move your ass over here so at least one of us can appreciate the dutch weather also i would toast to you but i think ur still not legally allowed to drink which is also a reason to get ur ass over here bc i feel like you’d be a blast to get drunk with (also shout out to you for indulging me in my wine aunt moments u were truly there for me when no one else was🤧came thru with lyrics to tmh bops faster than lightning ill never forget that!) so to conclude this Essay i lov u & hope u have an amazing birthday *serenades you with tom odell songs*💗💕💖💘💗💕💖💝💗💞💘💕💞💖💕💗💝💖💘💞💕💗

#*cracks knuckles* HERE WE GO #u better make yourself a cup of tea and get some snacks this is gonna be a long ride #i feel like i had a clear outline of things i wanted to say but ended up forgetting all of that and instead we got.......this #this MESS violet sweetie im so sorry #i kno this is v Extra already but im gonna be highkey annoyed with myself if tomorrow something pops in my head like shoot i forgot to #mention that! so i might add to the tagsnslkdnvdls idk i love an excuse to show all my love and appreciation😫 and this is IT #also im sorry for being so late this took me a While bc im incapable of simple cutting n pasting in paint or putting my thoughts into words #me: i need to stop this is Too Much #also me: but is it enough?

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coppicefics · 3 years

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Masked Omens: Week Eight, Part One

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Celebrity section of the Capital Herald, dated 13th February 2021. Full image description and transcript below the cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

The Capital Herald - Saturday, 13th February 2021 Celebrity section, page 18

Top: “Informants come to me”: Carmine Zugiber on front-line successes Tips, troubles and truths about writing headlines abroad - and now making headlines at home When working in a war zone, most people wear camouflage and try to keep their heads down – but not Carmine Zugiber. The successful war correspondent is one of the most recognisable journalists in the world, and that's even more true after her recent unmasking on The Masked Singer UK. I sat down with her to discuss her work, her brand partnerships, her passions and her fears – if, indeed, she knows the meaning of the word 'fear'. “I don't, really,” she laughs, “people have said that about me ever since I was a little girl. My mother absolutely despaired – she always wanted me to be safe at home playing with my dollies, and there I was climbing trees and falling out of them. I was always in the middle of fights, even then. So I suppose it was only natural that I'd drift towards war reporting.” But not everybody encouraged Zugiber to follow her dreams. “When I told my tutor at uni that I wanted to work on that side of things, he tried pretty hard to steer me back towards something a little safer. The politics beat, or entertainment, or fashion. I've actually been covering politics for the last month or so, as a colleague is on leave, and I have to say, that can feel pretty cut-throat! But I knew I wanted to see the world and get right to the heart of the action, and I'd like to think I've achieved that.” Zugiber has certainly made her mark on the headlines, covering conflicts in countries including Eden and, more recently, Celestan. “I just think it's important to take as unbiased an approach as possible and really tell the stories that are coming out of – well, especially a situation like Celestan. It's a complicated sort of conflict, and you never know how things are going to pan out. And sometimes being a journalist can feel like having a target painted on your back.” And Zugiber's signature red hair must stand out somewhat – does that make her more of a target? “I make it work for me, honestly. Informants come to me of their own accord, which is handy when everybody else is frantically chasing leads! Having done my share of broadcast journalism, people all over the place recognise me and there's a sort of built-in trust. It's flattering, really, and it's just a matter of making sure that trust is justified.” Zugiber has long been an ambassador for the Vibrant brand of hair dye – leading some to question her objectivity as a reporter. “Yes, I've heard that, but unless Vibrant starts a war, I don't think it's an issue. Clearly my editors and the press watchdog agree, because I've had no complaints from on high. And it's a product I genuinely believe in and use all the time, so why not?” Zugiber's most recent departure from the newsroom was even less likely to conflict with her usual work. What drew her to The Masked Singer UK? “I was asked if I wanted to take part in the show at about the same time that a colleague announced that she'd be taking some leave around now, and my editor suggested that I might like to take over her post for a while to get a broader range of experience. It seemed like perfect serendipity. I didn't want to be bored, hanging around in London for months – I'm used to travelling a lot – and the show sounded like a lot of fun. I jumped at the chance to make people smile for a change. Unfortunately, as a war correspondent, that's not something I often get to do.” Zugiber admits that she had mixed feelings as she got on the plane back to the UK. “Oh, yeah, definitely, it was a hard decision. With the situation unfolding in Celestan, which is becoming more complex by the minute, a big part of me felt like I should stay and keep working on the story there. But funnily enough, that story has followed me right into the Politics section, and it's looking increasingly likely that some sort of diplomatic solution might be reached. And the break has been really good for me – I needed to remember how to lighten up and be silly, and The Masked Singer is definitely silly! So ultimately it was the right decision for me.” And now, with The Masked Singer UK behind her, what's next for Carmine Zugiber? “The Masked Singer was a lot of fun, I really enjoyed it. And the response from the audience has been overwhelmingly positive. I loved the secrecy, but it's a relief that the truth is out now! I'll be staying in the UK, covering for Uriel [Scrolle, News World Weekly's Political Correspondent], for a little bit longer, and then in a couple of months I should be back out on assignment. No rest for the wicked!” BOGDAN PIGTON [Image Description: A picture of Carmine Zugiber’s face, in her motorbike helmet, with part of the village of Tadfield visible in the background. End ID.] [Caption] ROCK AND ROLL: Carmine Zugiber, pictured here outside a Labour party campaign meeting in Lower Tadfield, Oxfordshire, often uses her motorbike to keep up with subjects on the move. Her iconic scarlet look has led to her gathering something of a cult appeal among her viewers and readers. Photo: QuiteUnlikely.net

Centre left: ConStellation boots web star Wytchfynder host removed from astrology event Popular YouTuber Sergeant Shadwell was thrown out of the Greater Dyvyn Conference Centre last Sunday after trying to attend ConStellation. ConStellation has been the UK's largest convention for astrologers ever since its foundation in 1994. In 1999, the convention expanded to include practitioners of other divination techniques such as cartomancy (tarot card reading) and tasseomancy (tea leaf reading). The convention has been dogged by controversy throughout its history, with critics claiming that the 'con' of the name stands for more than 'convention'. Sergeant Shadwell, through his Wytchfynder channel, has long been committed to investigating the claims of fortune-tellers and paranormal practitioners such as those who attend ConStellation each year, and in several cases he has denounced claims of psychic ability as completely and demonstrably fraudulent. It is, then, perhaps not surprising that he is completely banned from ConStellation, which according to its website is 'intended as a safe and welcoming place for practitioners and interested parties to share their appreciation for, and knowledge of, the unknowable'. Sergeant Shadwell himself, however, does not seem to have been aware of the blanket ban. Witnesses to the scene on Sunday reported that the YouTuber could be heard arguing with security all the way to the doors of the building. When reached for comment, the organisers of ConStellation issued the following statement: 'A man was removed from the ConStellation event on Sunday morning after attendees expressed concern that he might be attempting to create an 'exposé’ on their work by manipulating footage of the convention. The man in question is known to the convention organisers, and a decision was made to ask him to leave. Calls for the man to be searched for recording devices were not enforced, and the man eventually departed with minimal fuss. The convention otherwise proceeded without incident.' Sergeant Shadwell was not available for comment, but a video on the Wytchfynder channel on Tuesday mentioned the incident in passing. 'All right, I just want to say thanks for all your comments, you don't need to be worrying about me. I did go to a convention this weekend, but not for anything to do with the channel, I was just planning to meet up with a friend. Well. We've been exchanging texts, I thought it might be nice to meet in person. And we did, after the convention, so. Not a total waste. Anyway, about this haunted castle-' Speculation is rife about the identity of Sergeant Shadwell's alleged friend, with some The Masked Singer UK fans pointing out that fellow The Masked Singer contestant Marjorie Potts - better known as TV's Madame Tracy - was one of the key speakers at Sunday's event. Shadwell is far from the first person to be escorted out of the Greater Dyvyn Conference Centre by security; earlier this year, three women were removed from a panel at DivaCon after starting a food fight. Several other attendees had their weekend passes revoked and were allowed to leave under their own power. But whether Sergeant Shadwell was there this weekend to meet a friend or conduct an investigation, it's probably best that he choose another venue; he's unlikely to be welcome at ConStellation any time soon. SCUZZ FISHER

Centre- and lower- right, advertisement: [Image description: A microphone on a stand, against an orange background. A pair of Union Jack printed Converse hi-top shoes cover the lower half of the image. The microphone/background image is credited to Jon Tyson on Unsplash, while the shoe image is credited to Nick Fewings on Unsplash. End ID.] The British Inquisition Book now www.brianthames.co.uk/british-inquisition Brian Thames “Nobody expected this!” [4 stars] The Capital Herald.

Bottom left: Masked Cat out of the bag? Did a Pam & Sam guest let the big secret slip? Did Rose Montgomery really just admit to being the contestant known as Black Cat in the current series of The Masked Singer UK? It seems almost impossible; surely a contestant would be more careful when taking part in a show like Pam & Sam AM. But people do make mistakes, and Pam & Sam does air live. Let's look at the evidence. Appearing on the show to advertise her upcoming show, Notes and Measures – which promises to be part cooking show, part mixology class, and part vineyard tour - the celebrity chef was asked if the rumours surrounding her participation in the competition had any truth to them. “Well, naturally, I can't tell you that,” Montgomery told her hosts with a knowing smile, “there are all sorts of NDAs involved.” I don't want to jump to conclusions, but several of the previous weeks' clues seem to have hinted at Montgomery's involvement. For example, in week five of the competition, Black Cat's clue package included “if they take note of my performance, they'll finally get the true measure of me” (emphasis mine) – while Montgomery's show Notes and Measures was still just a distant speck on the TV scheduling horizon. And in week six, Black Cat was shown on CCTV with a daisy – and Daisy, like Rose, is a popular flower name. Is Rose Montgomery Black Cat? We'll find out tonight. GRESHAM PENDER

[End of transcript]

#masked omens #mo week eight part one #very much fake news #good omens fic #mine

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syncogon · 6 years

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summary: During the entirety of Ye Qiu's eight-and-a-half season Glory career, as far as the general public knows, One Autumn Leaf's user is male. A select few, however, she trusts enough to reveal the truth. (fem!Ye Xiu)

(( i finally (well, like a week ago) got an ao3! so here’s a shameless plug of a little one-shot I wrote and posted. there’s some other stuff too (and i’ll be posting/compiling my old things there too) so feel free to check it out!))

((since it’s not TOO long, i’ll put the full text on tumblr as well. please read/comment/enjoy!))

Ye Xiu is fifteen years old when she runs away from home. With hardly a semblance of a plan in mind, she carries her twin’s identity and belongings and she wanders until stumbling upon a certain internet café. She has limited money, but she pays for some time on a vacant computer and slides into the seat.

There’s a boy sitting nearby, about her age, laughing as he handily defeats challenger after challenger, money trading hands. Ye Xiu recognizes the game, of course, it’s one of many she’s played. And so when no one else seems quite so eager to take a turn, she speaks up.

“Hey, I’ll play you,” she says. The boy gives her a once over. His previous challengers had been of varying ages, but, notably, were all male. Still, if he’s surprised to see a young girl so boldly want to fight, he doesn’t show it.

“Sure,” he says with an easy and friendly grin. “You’re new here, so we’ll keep money out of this. But I won’t go easy on you!”

To that, Ye Xiu only smirks.

The boy is skilled, for sure. The match drags on, and there are several moments where Ye Xiu very nearly loses. But, ultimately, she executes a clever move that earns her the victory.

“Damnit!” she hears him yell. And then, a second later, “That was amazing! Rematch?”

“You’re on.”

Slowly, a crowd of internet café patrons gathers around them to watch. It seems that this boy – named Su Muqiu, as she eventually learns – is quite well-known around this crowd for his skill, and they’re excited to see him meet someone who can match him. There are some murmurs of surprise that his opponent is a girl, but Ye Xiu forces herself to ignore them.

Eventually, Su Muqiu declares that they should take a break.

“What, tired of losing?” she teases him, but she’s almost out of time on the computer anyway, and so stands up and logs off.

“You wish,” Su Muqiu snorts. “We’re settling this later. Mucheng, come on, let’s eat over there.”

The little girl whom Ye Xiu noticed earlier scurries forward, holding a bag that she offers to the boy. Siblings, judging by their appearances, and Ye Xiu feels a brief pang of regret at abandoning her twin. She furiously squashes the feeling. She would go back, eventually.

Su Muqiu takes several steps before pausing to find Ye Xiu still standing there next to the computers. “Well? Are you coming?” he asks, and Ye Xiu hurries over to join them, her new family.

********

“Glory supports female avatars,” says Su Muqiu one day, peering over at his friend’s screen curiously. “Why’re you still sticking to male?”

Ye Xiu gives Su Muqiu a look. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, being a so-called ‘girl gamer’?” she says flatly.

“…No?”

“It sucks.”

Su Muqiu waits for her to say more, but when she merely continues to maneuver the game in silence, he prompts, “In what way?”

“Well,” she begins, still staring intently at her screen, “it’s not 'proper' for girls to be interested in gaming, for one. So a lot of guys will be condescending and won’t take me seriously, even if I could beat them up in ten seconds, because apparently there’s no such thing as a girl that’s good at gaming.

“Any sexist joke you’ve heard of, kitchens, sandwiches, anything, I can guarantee someone’s made it to me. And I’ve had my fair share of disgusting comments and come-ons and general harassment as well. I’ve been lucky enough not to get in any physical danger, but I’ve heard plenty of stories about that too.

“Anyway, when Glory announced that they were including the option for female avatars, you should have seen the backlash – men were acting like it was a personal attack on their freedom to even have this option exist. ‘Pandering to feminazis’ they said, and a whole lot of other bullshit.

“So if I use a male avatar, I can pass as a guy, and avoid all of that trouble. Glory has voice chat, but my voice isn’t particularly feminine, so there haven’t been troubles on that end, yet.” Ye Xiu takes a deep breath. She isn’t usually the type to say so much at once, but Su Muqiu’s question prompted an outflow of all the grievances she’s quietly suffered during all these years playing games. She’s long since accepted it as a fact of the gaming world, but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t irritated by it.

“Sorry for the rant, but yeah. That’s why One Autumn Leaf is male.”

“…Oh…” At the end of all of that, Su Muqiu is at somewhat of a loss for words. He was aware that these attitudes existed, of course, but he thought they were ridiculous – what did your gender have to do with how good you were? His friend here was living proof of that. He hadn’t realized just how prevalent these views were, and it makes him sick.

To think Ye Xiu has to deal with all of that… To think that she still loves gaming anyway. Su Muqiu feels his admiration for his friend grow.

“I’m sorry,” he says, even though he knows those are about the most useless words he could say.

She shrugs. “For what? You’re a good guy. This is just how things are.”

Later, when Su Muqiu starts making alternate accounts, he still makes Dancing Rain female for his sister. But he makes Lord Grim female as well, out of respect for a different girl.

********

When Ye Xiu steps onto the professional stage – no longer with her closest friend and best partner – she presents herself as her twin, Ye Qiu. Ye Qiu is female, like her, otherwise she’d never be able to pass her “borrowed” ID as her own. But she begs Club Excellent Era to hide her gender, in addition to her face and practically every other identifying piece of information about herself.

This still being the early days of the League, when things weren’t quite so commercialized, the Club agrees to these terms. Later, looking at the success of All-Stars Su Mucheng and Chu Yunxiu, some of the Club regret this decision. But at the time, it hadn’t seemed like that big a deal, not much of a stretch from allowing Ye Xiu to avoid all public appearances. And having their team publicly led by a female captain had seemed like a publicity risk, anyway.

Among her own teammates, of course, Ye Xiu can’t keep up the gender part of her identity lie. Wu Xuefeng is surprised to learn that the incredible Battle Mage with whom he’d played in-game all this time was actually a girl, but he’s nothing but supportive from the start. Some of the others are more skeptical, but their doubts are silenced after they see her in action.

A championship is a championship, after all, and Battle God One Autumn Leaf earns them three.

So during the entirety of Ye Qiu’s eight-and-a-half season professional career, as far as the fans and the public know, Ye Qiu is male. It’s much more difficult to hide from her fellow proplayers – but she doesn’t particularly want to hide from them, only from the public. As she says, Glory isn’t a single player game, and this means forming bonds with not only teammates but opponents as well. So to those proplayers that earn her respect and trust despite being on rival teams, she reveals herself in person:

***

Han Wenqing is even more terrifying in person than any pictures could convey, and he towers over the somewhat short and skinny girl in front of him. Not that she’s cowering. There’s an amused gleam in Ye Xiu’s eye as she looks at him. Surprising the steadfast King of Fighting is no easy task, after all. And though Han Wenqing is fairly good at hiding his emotions behind a scary poker face, the revelation that his longtime rival was actually a she was enough to get a reaction from him.

“So then,” asks Han Wenqing as he remembers another question he’s had for a while, “where is Autumn Tree? That player was quite skilled as well, he would do well in the professional scene.”

Han Wenqing isn’t the type of person to have regrets. He finds them unnecessary and a waste of time. In his view, one should simply concentrate on moving forward, channeling all energy and focus toward the future.

But now, seeing Ye Xiu’s expression tighten, he does wish he could retract that question.

“He’s gone,” she finally answers, quietly. “Car accident.”

“Oh.” What’s the proper thing to say to something like that? “That’s… a shame.”

“Yes. He would have been a god.” Ye Xiu sighs and looks off into the distance, looking so much… sadder… than her shameless in-game persona would have led him to believe possible.

But her eyes turn back to him soon enough. “But we keep living anyway. Isn’t that right, Old Han?”

Han Wenqing nods, and Ye Xiu smiles and makes to leave.

“Ye Qiu,” he calls after her, “see you on stage.”

She doesn’t look back, but does give a friendly wave in reply, and Han Wenqing hopes he’ll be able to see his remarkable rival again soon.

***

As Hundred Blossoms makes their way through the passageways under the stage after their startling defeat to Excellent Era, they come across a girl in red Excellent Era uniform leaning casually against the wall.

“Captain wishes to speak to you two,” she informs Zhang Jiale and Sun Zheping, who are standing at the head of the line. The passageway is narrow, so it’s hard for the other Hundred Blossom team members to catch a glimpse of her.

She’s avoiding their gazes, acting somewhat timid and nervous, but she seems sincere enough. Sun Zheping gestures for the rest of the team to head back to their room, and he and his vice captain follow the girl down a different path.

She leads them to a vacant room, where Zhang Jiale finally bursts out, impatient, “So where is this mysterious captain of yours, huh?”

“Right here.”

Zhang Jiale’s mouth actually falls open. Sun Zheping’s reaction is more subdued, though he’s just as stunned.

Meanwhile, Ye Xiu continues speaking, any semblance of the timid façade casually discarded. “To be honest, that match was kind of disappointing,” she says airily. “The undefeated Blood and Blossom duo was hyped up all this season, and when we finally face you, your combination just kind of falls apart like that? You new guys still have a long ways to go.”

She’s mocking them, but there’s no real animosity behind it. This sort of playful trashtalk was common in the pro scene. But, of course, Sun Zheping wasn’t going to take it lying down.

“My respect for Wu Xuefeng grows with each passing second,” he says, “for having to deal with you on a regular basis.”

Ye Xiu only smiles and makes a mock bow.

Zhang Jiale, having picked his jaw up off the floor, butts in, “We’ll beat you next time for sure!” He’s making finger guns for emphasis, and Ye Xiu can’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm.

“We’ll see, we’ll see.”

***

“Unexpected,” says Wang Jiexi, raising an eyebrow. The action only emphasizes his unnaturally large eye, and Ye Xiu stifles a snort.

“High praise from the unpredictable Magician,” she replies, instead.

“Is there any reason for telling this to me now?”

“Mm,” she tilts her head, “not really, I suppose, but it does feel nice to let people know. Sometimes their reactions are funny.”

“…I see.”

“Do you, though? With those mismatched eyes of yours?”

Wang Jiexi huffs at that, but Ye Xiu’s pleased to see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

***

Yu Wenzhou takes in the news with hardly a blink, completely calm, like he is in every other aspect of his life. His companion, of course, reacts slightly differently.

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck One Autumn Leaf is actually a girl are you fucking serious my entire life is a lie there are already so few girls in the League and it turns out one of them is the Battle God are there any other big life changing revelations I’ve missed? But no ultimately it doesn’t make that big a difference I guess because you’re still a good player and I still want to fight you and I still won’t go easy on you at all got it that’s right I want to PKPKPKPKPK with you right now and you’re not getting out of this okay are you even listening to me huh?!”

“You’re even more of a headache in person…” Ye Xiu says flatly. “Captain Yu, I’m impressed you haven’t gone deaf.”

Yu Wenzhou smiles and shrugs helplessly.

Aside from the gender, One Autumn Leaf’s user is about what he expected, especially that aura of quiet confidence. And even just from their short interaction, Yu Wenzhou can tell that she has a true tactician’s mind, quick and lively and calculating. He hopes to speak with her again, if only to compare notes with the original of the four Master Tacticians.

Judging from how Huang Shaotian rambles on about “that girl” for days after, the talkative proplayer definitely feels the same.

***

“Senior…Ye Qiu?”

The girl nods.

Zhou Zekai stares at her in silence for a while, before finally mustering the strength to say, “You’re… pretty… amazing.” He wants to say more, but he isn’t sure how.

Ye Xiu laughs. “Why, thanks,” she says. “But so are you. I’m looking forward to our next match.”

At that, Zhou Zekai loses all capacity for speech, and can only nod.

***

Chu Yunxiu walks alongside Ye Xiu, unsure of what to say. The fact that the number one player of Glory, the number one of such a male-dominated field, was a girl… It didn’t change everything, of course, but it did change a lot.

“Do you resent me for hiding?” the other girl asks suddenly.

Chu Yunxiu considers. The polite response, of course, would be an immediate “no,” but the question is so unexpected it forces her to give it serious thought. Her own path would have been easier if there had been a figure at the top she could point at and say, look, there’s proof that girls can do this too, even better than boys.

But things had worked out in the end. She was among the top in this field, now, leading a powerhouse team with the highest female-to-male ratio in the League. And Chu Yunxiu was proud of the path she’d taken, what she’d accomplished in the gaming world. Of course, she didn’t play Glory to be an icon of feminine empowerment, or whatever the media called her.

But she would support the cause in the capacity she could, including as a symbol for young girls to follow their dreams.

“No,” replies Chu Yunxiu, after this thoughtful silence. She hesitates, looking at Ye Xiu, wondering if she should say more, or if the other girl understands.

Ye Xiu smiles faintly, and they continue walking.

***

Ye Xiu meets a few others in person as well. And so, among the upper levels of the proplayers – the captains and vice captains and All-Stars and powerhouse teams – the fact that One Autumn Leaf’s user is female is common knowledge, though they have the sense to keep it from spreading; plenty of the “ordinary” proplayers never find out. During large events and get-togethers where every player is obliged to make an appearance, those not in the know simply ignore or forget the plain black-haired girl, even though she seems seems comfortable casually joking with any of the gods.

In the middle of the eighth season, Ye Qiu is forced to retire. The underlying reasons are largely the same – her lack of commercial value to the Club owners – but it was perhaps fueled by some sexist attitudes as well, some teammates who didn’t take well to taking orders from a girl, others that wanted her and couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Sun Xiang sneers at her shaking hands as she passes over One Autumn Leaf – of course a girl would be so emotional; no wonder she wasn’t fit to lead.

Outside Excellent Era, Ye Xiu wraps her adopted sister in a tight hug and whispers in her ear. “I’ll rest for a year, and then return.” The twilight of a god, a promise of a brilliant show of glory.

And when the various Glory pros begin hearing of a mysterious, fearsome, female player terrorizing the tenth server, the same name crosses all of their minds.

Ye Qiu may be gone, but Ye Xiu is still here. And this goddess is ready to take the Glory world by storm.

#quan zhi gao shou #qzgs #the king's avatar #tka #mine #writing #fanfic #pls comment it gives me life haha #sorry if you've already seen this tho ahaha

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