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anika-ann · 3 years

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No Strings Attached - Pt.1

Y/N vs. The Mutual Crash

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2900

Summary for the series: When you literally run into a cute guy named Chuck in school hallway, you soon learn there is much more to him than meets the eye. Unfortunately for you, you learn the hard way.

What’s worse, the encounter sets events in motion you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams – and it make you question everything you know.

Warnings: for this chapter - tiny bit of 18+ nsfw smut in the beginning though it’s barely there, swearing, mention of a migraine... that’s it?

A/N: Just so I don’t spook you, we’ll start off easy… with a 2,9k chapter… enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

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Almost as soon as you woke up, there was a feeling in your gut; today was going to be strange. Strange in a way that you might not be entirely able to put a finger on, nothing all that special happening, but even though it was only half past six, you knew it was going to be one of those days.

Maybe it was the fact that you cautiously dropped a forehead kiss on Steve’s still sleeping form only to find out he was very much awake. His arms swiftly took a hold of your waist and pulled you on top of him, drawing a startled yelp from your lips, which he quickly silenced by a passionate good-morning kiss.

Maybe it was the fact that you nearly ended up being late.

You were not the only one waking up with a peculiar mood. After Steve’s kiss stole all air from your lungs, he was rolling the pair of you over, trapping you against the mattress, arousal evident, hands wandering and sneaking under your sleepshirt, trailing higher and higher until they reached one of his favourite playgrounds. The rest was history; it was quick and little sloppy but undeniably lustful. Still, it led to mutual satisfaction and to not having even remotely enough time to get ready for the day.

Maybe it was the e-mail Bucky sent yesterday at almost 10 p.m. informing his students that there would be a last-minute change of classroom, because special guests were coming to give a lecture. A lecture that started at 8 a.m.. You hated early morning classes; the only thing making them bearable was Bucky, because he was a damn good and funny professor.

God knew if the guests were about to be a blessing or a punishment. Either way, you had a hunch today was going to turn out kinda weird.

And you only had that confirmed as you rushed through the corridors, the home-made coffee in your opened thermo cup in hand—and suddenly it was gone.

Because you crashed into someone. Well, someone crashed into you. It was a mutual crash.

Point being – a hiss of pain escaped your lips, cup slipping from your fingers as the last remnants of coffee stained it, hands thrown in the air—only to slap the person’s shoulder in the process, because they happened to be in the way.

“Whoa!”

“Dammit!” you cursed, shaking your hand to distract yourself form the mild burn.

You eyed the puddle of brown liquid at your feet before your gaze moved up, noticing a few droplets on your jeans, and finally you fixed your gaze on your crashmate.

A relatively tall brunet stared at you, dark eyes wide, an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry!” you both blurted out at the same time.

Short awkward silence followed as you just kept staring at each other, unable to utter a word. And then you chuckled at the absurdity.

You noticed the guy’s lips curling up in a brief smile as you shook your head and went to find tissues in your backpack.

It wasn’t funny – more like annoying, actually. But you did find it funny. Maybe it was because you had a perfectly steamy morning quickie with your fiancé, making you giddy. Maybe it was because this guy, dressed in a grey shirt and black dress pants was kinda cute, the dark curls of his hair causing him to look rather endearing and charming at the same time and—he was smiling too. There was an air around him; a very friendly air.

“Oh, no, let me help!” he rushed to crouch by the offending puddle before you could even open your backpack and you swiftly lowered yourself too.

“It’s no problem, the cup was pretty much empty, luckily…” you mumbled, shooting him a forgiving smile. He met your eyes, one corner of his lips rising higher.

Oh no. He really was cute.

Now, after the mess with Daniel, you were wary of cute guys, even if it came to innocent flirting. But this one, your crashmate… well. There was something about him screaming ‘trust me’; with Daniel, when you looked back at your first encounter, everything screamed ‘smug jerk’.

The brunet reached for the pack of paper tissues you were holding and so you shrugged, handing him some. If he wanted to help, who were you to stop him? It was both yours and his fault.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t full and I didn’t go all Hugh Grant on you,” he uttered as you both worked.

You stared at his Converses for a full second and then it hit you, drawing a surprised laughed from you.

“Was that a Nothing Hill reference? Am I Julia Roberts in this scenario?”

He smiled unsurely at you, seeming rather embarrassed – but seeing your expression, he relaxed. “Yeah, but luckily, you’re not, because the cup was almost empty. Still sorry about the coffee though.”

Picking up the soaked tissues, you went to find the nearest trash can.

“Well, if I-“ didn’t let my fiancé fuck me raw when I was supposed to be getting ready for the day- “-was watching where I was going, this wouldn’t have happened, so we’re good,” you assured him.

“Are you sure that I shouldn’t, eh,” he pointed somewhere behind him vaguely in a sweeping gesture, smile a smidge shy, ”run to the cafeteria or something to buy you a fresh cup?”

Alert! A guy’s asking you out!

And alert it was; after the fiasco with Daniel, you made it a point to cut things off before they could develop into a sticky situation.

“Oh! That’s really nice of you…?”

You didn’t remember seeing him around before. New student? An exchange student? Because it always went so well with those…

“Chuck.”

“Right, Chuck. Nice to meet you,” you quickly uttered, introducing yourself as well. “But I don’t really--- I, eh-“

You gave up and just awkwardly showed off your left hand. The beautiful ring that once belonged to Steve’s mother – and goddammit, wasn’t it still making you feel all soft and fuzzy – sitting on your ring finger.

Chuck’s gaze zeroed on the jewellery for a moment and then it seemed that something clicked in his brain. He swiftly raised his hands in a no harm gesture, brief panic crossing over his face.

”Oh no! That’s not what I meant, though--- congratulations, but I really didn’t mean to ask you out or something-“ he babbled, hands clenching and unclenching, toying with the belt-loops of his pants the next moment.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Was he trying to cover for the fact that he was embarrassed for wanting to ask you out or had you totally misjudged this situation?

“-though this totally was a meet-cute if I’ve ever seen one and it’s not that you’re not good-looking, I mean attractive and beautiful, because of course you are-“

Oh god, he wasn’t cute.

He was an adorable disaster! You didn’t even care what the truth was at this point.

“-but obviously you’re engaged and I really wasn’t making a move or anything—and I’m gonna have to stop talking right now,” he finished breathlessly, closing his eyes with a self-depreciating smile, his chest rising and falling as he was trying to calm down.

Your cheeks burned from smiling so wide, a cackle fighting its way past your lips. Even if you didn’t want to laugh at him.

“Okay, Chuck. I think I get what you’re saying,” you assured him and because he was clearly adorable, he warily cracked one eye open as if to check if the embarrassing situation you two found yourself in went away. When he noticed your smile, his tense shoulders relaxed, both eyes opening.

“I’m glad. I’m sorry for embarrassing us both. I might as well be that guy from Nothing Hill…”

You laughed – like honestly, nearly having to clutch your belly, laughed. You couldn’t help it.

“Well, you’re charming enough. But I’m afraid I’m no movie star in hiding.”

“You’re cute enough to be one, no discussion here,” he said, his twinkling eyes gave your face a very quick once-over. Somehow, you found his compliment both funny and flattering. A lopsided grin appeared on his face, twisting into a grimace as he hesitantly raised his finger. “But, if we’re talking meet-cutes, I’m afraid I’m more of a Richard Gere here… I got a little bit lost. Point me the right direction, please?”

Whoa, he was stepping up, talking Pretty Woman now. You really liked that dorky comment though.

“Where you headin’?”

“2.34?”

You blinked in surprise, wondering if you heard wrong. Because that was where you were heading.

“Oh? Interesting…” you muttered, earning a curious head tilt from him. Glancing again at your jeans, you grimaced. Those stains had to go… guess direction would have to do. “Yeah, that one is a little tricky… and dumb. You have to go through 2.33. Not that there’s any badge on the door on anything.”

He gasped theatrically. “Tricky!”

“I know! It’s a test of our interhuman skills; can’t really finding without asking someone first. I’ll see you there, I suppose, gotta clean up the cup and… well, me.”

“I’m sorry, again. And thank you,” Chuck said politely, sending you a final smile.

“You’re welcome, Chuck.”

Here’s a thing about hunches: sometimes, they come true.

Being run down in a hallway was nothing too weird, oh no. Not even when a funny charming guy was involved.

Things only got weird when you entered the lecture hall and finally realized why was Chuck heading to the same room as you did. He stood next to Bucky at the professor’s stand, quietly talking to a stunning blond woman in a dress suit and glasses.

Feeling blood rushing to your head, setting your cheeks aflame in embarrassment, you went to find a seat, noticing everyone was sitting with a space of at least three seats between them and never behind. As if you were about to write an extremely important test. Great.

Could this day get any better?

Two taps sounded through the room as Bucky tried the microphone.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Well, good for some of us, at least,” Bucky stated, unmistakably finding you in the crowd as if he knew exactly how your morning went – at least the part before you left the apartment. You wanted to sink through the floor – and wasn’t that a familiar feeling under Bucky’s knowing gaze. “Find your seats, please, so we can start. We have some special guests from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs today with us to present you a special program you can apply to, so… you know. Pay attention. They’ll tell you the rest.”

Oh, so you had run into a guy from Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Spectacular.

To be fair, he had been a dork. How were you supposed to tell he was important?! He was still pretty cute standing there.

Also: the blonde by his side? Yeah. You understood now why he reacted the way he did earlier. Because if he knew a woman like that, the idea he was trying to ask you out – or anyone, really – was laughable. Hell, you’d ask her out.

“Morning, my name is Charles Carmichael and this is my colleague, Sarah Walker,” Chuck started off pleasantly, if little nervous from having all eyes on him.

“Like your professor said, we’re here to present you… with an opportunity to get a training for special analyst in one of departments. And before you ask why we’re ambushing a history class when we’re looking to fill an analyst vacancy…”

Several people laughed and you did too – he sounded like the guy from the hallway, only a bit more presentable.

“-it’s because we really talk about this with pretty much every student on this university, so you can see we have a lot of presentations still ahead. Anyway, I’m gonna talk a bit about the program and about our ministry in general, so… yeah. Please listen carefully and watch carefully too. Spoiler: it’s important. Thanks.”

The lights dimmed and he started the presentation, slowly pulling you in and making you forget the incident in the hallway.

And despite his charming ways… the presentation was rather strange too.

It was just one of those strange days.

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You didn’t think there would be anything to add insult to the injury, to turn into the so-called cherry on top.

You were wrong.

Chuck, or Charles Carmichael, was an alright presenter. He remained a dorky character, only enough to hold all of the students’ attention, that was quite okay. It was the pictures that appeared in between those images that felt perfectly in place, that were… just weird. Like… a rose. A beach. New York skyline. Pictures that were not at all related to what he was talking about. He always played it off as a joke – supposedly placing them there to keep you on your toes – but there was something that just felt… off.

And during what you later found out was like the last third of the presentation, you felt a headache starting to build. Not a terribly intense one, but strong enough to be fairly annoying and insistent on bugging you, just above your eyebrows. You couldn’t remember your head ever hurting in such way.

Then things got worse; you indeed got a test to complete. The nice people from Ministry of Foreign Affairs told you not to worry about getting it wrong affecting your marks in your course, obviously, so you didn’t, not really.

But it was hard to ignore that it was the weirdest fucking test you had ever seen.

In each task, pick five of ten words you associate with the word in question, read the instructions. Which on its own could be considered strange, but… it was the supposedly associated words that truly confused the heck out of you.

For ‘rose’ there were clear answers like ‘thorn’ and ‘flower’. The rest of the offered words? Non-sense. Like—utter nonsense. Bulldog, Victoria, Sao Paolo, camp, mirror, Tower Bridge, eagle, heroin. You stared at the words, reading them over and over, the pressure in your forehead growing more vexing by the minute.

For some inexplicable reason, your mind kept on gravitating towards the Sao Paolo, eagle and heroin; surprisingly vivid images of each flashing behind your eyelids as you closed them to relieve the headache. The light was starting to hurt your eyes despite being rather low. It was irritating.

Deciding the stupid test didn’t matter, you went with the first thing that came to your mind for each question, finishing among the firsts. It was rather relieving to see everyone’s face as confused as you imagined your looked.

Leaving the class, you spared Chuck one last glance, finding him staring at you with eyebrows furrowed; brief glance at Bucky told you why, for he wore the very same expression. It seemed that you weren’t very good at masking your suffering. You attempted a lame smile, knowing that you were about to ditch the class that followed.

Catching up with Linda, one of the girls who were with you in Callahan’s class, you begged her to give him your apology; the headache was turning into a splitting damn migraine.

Linda shot you a compassionate smile and assured you she would vouch for you looking absolutely terrible and having no other option than leaving.

“Thanks,” you chuckled weakly, nails digging into your palms as a mild case of vertigo threatened to throw you completely off balance.

“Hey, do you want me to call someone? Take you to the infirmary?” Linda worried, sporting a textbook example of having concern written all over her face. “Not joking, you do look like you’re gonna pass out. Rogers’ gonna be out for blood if he finds out I talked to you and let you wander off in this state.”

The image of Steve stalking down the hallway with an exasperated expression on his face searching for your classmate seemed rather amusing; but that was unlikely to happen.

“Nah, he should be all sunshine. Lots of endorphins released this morning,” you mumbled, absently rubbing at your forehead.

You only realized what you said when a dramatic silence followed, soon broken by Linda’s snort of laughter. The shock of you blatantly revealing something like that in your compromised state helped you to focus a bit more, bringing some clarity to your vision.

“I so didn’t need to know that. Good thing I have Callahan now and not him, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. I’d be imagining him shirtless with a perfect case of bed hair. Gosh, you’re such a lucky bitch.”

“Don’t I know it,” you offered with another weak smile.

“I’m sure you do,” she hummed, lightly patting your shoulder. “Now you get home safe and get some rest.”

“Thank you, Linda. Really.” She only shrugged it off as if it was nothing. The friendly display brought an honest smile to your face and caused you to perk up enough to joke. “Oh, and Steve usually sleeps in a t-shirt, sorry to break it to you. But his bed hair is dreamy.”

“…I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

She would have if you added that the rumour about Professor Rogers being true. That he was indeed packing.

With a smirk at that thought alternating with a grimace whenever a sharp pain hit the back of your head, you headed home.

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Part 2

About

Chuck characters

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Thank you for reading :-*

In case you missed one of my way too many announcements, in Chuck, every episode was named Chuck vs. Something. I decided to keep the theme and go against my usual not-so-frequent use of Y/N in my stories.

P.S. – if any of this felt familiar to Chuck fans, know, some of the plot is a big nod to episode 1x07 Chuck vs. the Alma Mater. It’s one of my faves for many reasons – the plot, hilarious lines, the LOTR references… Honestly, they had me at this scene (0:05 – 0:25 though you can watch the full 2 min, obviously)

Anika Ann out

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shiberpostshere · 4 years

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The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

28. Chapter Twenty Four: Cinematic Parallels✨

Previous Part✨ Next Part✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 4.3 K

Note: This contains suggestive content.

5:00 PM. The clock was ticking a little too slow for your liking.

The second coffee cup of the day, now empty and sweating even in the air conditioned atmosphere of the cafe, accurately depicts your inner state minus the perspiration.

You continue chewing on your bottom lip, a little expectant and a little hesitant. It has been difficult to pay attention to the book in your hands, you’re rather occupied with counting the seconds on the clock for the past excruciatingly long fifteen minutes.

After testing out approximately millions of scenarios about what explanation Seonghwa is going to offer to put an end to your dilemma, the final one you kept arriving to is, ending things between you two.

An end to a relationship you've never experienced before that merely began a few weeks ago.

An end?

The assumptions were eating you from within. It’s strange how worried you have been for the last few days but it's even more queer that your feelings for him are rigid and unfazed.

Why is your heart ready to forgive him even for the worst case scenario?

All he had to say was, ‘Trust me’ and you did.

Your head falls back with a slump of exhaustion. “Oh my god, why are feelings so complicated?”

The intense war of dichotomy that's going on between your stubborn heart and persistent mind has been tiresome. It is a scenario where the brain is presenting blunt but logical ideas and the heart is deflecting those with its mellow and soothing sentiments.

The mind prepared a list of “Possible Hindrances You Will Have to Deal with When Managing a Relationship with Park Seonghwa” and your heart fired back with a counter argument of “Times When Park Seonghwa Made You Feel Extremely Happy and Appreciated”.

They are both correct in their respective standpoint. It is you who needs to settle on a conclusion which you cannot unless you learn Seonghwa’s perspective.

Okay, (Y/N) stop the train of thoughts, let’s think after we talk, let’s consider things after we talk, let’s focus on this wonderful book for now.

“Scoot over.” A heavy voice announces and you look up to register the undetected mischievous boy, standing in his tall glory, laptop held with care to his chest.

You slide along with your belongings, studying Mingi as he settles down with concern written all over his features.

“Okay.” The response comes out of you in an unexpectedly meek voice.

“I know you weren’t expecting my company but at least don’t look so disappointed.” In surprisingly quick movements he begins to work, fingers furiously drumming on the keyboard with his brows furrowed to an intense depth.

Indeed, you were not expecting his company but you didn’t want to openly broadcast the not-so-subtle disappointment. “What brings you here?” You ask, finally placing down the book whose title is already wiped clean out of your mind.

The amount of concentration currently present in your mind, almost none, made the task of reading troublesome. You did not get past the first sentence. You don’t even remember the said first sentence you read, maybe almost a thousand times for the last fifteen minutes of waiting.

The tall boy runs his fingers through his messy locks, disturbing them further. “Did you forget already?” His skeptical eyes meet your clueless ones.

“Oh.” A thoughtless answer because you truly have no idea what he is implying.

He leans lazily into the palm of his hand. “The pendrive, (Y/N)”.

The pendrive? What pendrive?

You shuffle through your rack of memories for a plausible answer. “Oh, shit. Hongjoong’s pendrive?”

He nods at your realization.

The pen drive Hongjoong entrusted with you last Friday to copy the contents for backup purposes and it was to be delivered to Mingi right after you were done.

He holds out his palm. “Give me it. I’ll be on my way, I don’t want to intrude.” A brief pause. "The talk, or whatever, um.."

An awkward smile stretches onto your lips, right hand sheepishly reaching out to the back of your neck.

The pen drive Hongjoong entrusted with you last Friday is actually not in your possession.

“What? Why are you making that weird face?” Don’t tell me--” He halts his rant, his suspicions getting confirmed as your awkward smile transforms into a rather skittish one.

You shoot up from your seat. “I remember Hongjoong telling me it's in the first drawer of the second cabinet, I will be right back!” In a hurried motion, you jump out of the broad bench, ready to sprint to and from the studio.

Mingi’s fingers catch a fistful of your coat before you can flee. “What am I supposed to tell Seonghwa when he arrives? I am not going to wait here in that kind of gloomy mood with him!”

You try to untangle his heavy hold on your coat. “I promise I will be back in no time. I came fifteen minutes early to prepare myself to talk to him! He won’t be here for another five minutes.”

He releases the hold, slightly shaking his head in disapproval. “Fine but be back as soon as possible.” His fingers shuffle inside his pants pockets to take out a small door key. “Take the key.” The studio key is tossed your way to catch.

“Thanks!” Holding up two thumbs up in the spur of the moment, you curse internally for admitting your obvious desperation out loud.

The distance between the building that houses various types of studios for the artistic students of KQU and Cafe Utopia, a space mostly occupied by the music and dance majors to relax during their breaks is only five minutes apart.

The ground is slippery and shifting under your heavy footsteps as you are trying to jump towards the studio.

You have seen a late, panicked Wooyoung in action, grabbing a drink priorly prepared for him (he has charmed all the part timers of the cafe) and disappearing out of the cafe within the time span of sixty seconds. It’s truly a wondrous sight to see until you’re in the similar situation, (You have not charmed all the part timers, not even San) running towards your class with not a single drop of temporary energy in your vessels.

The influence of the misunderstanding has clearly taken its toll on you. There have been a number of tasks you have forgotten or completed last minute due to your distracted mind since you learned the incomplete news. You were all over the place and you did not like it one bit.

While you’re hastily climbing up the stairs to reach the studio used by the Dazzling Night crew, you’re thankful that it resides on the first floor instead of fifth as a numbness creeps up your legs.

“Whoa! slow down.” A random boy comments as you dash by him, footsteps echoing through the corridor to reach the door at the very last.

“Sorry!” You shout, voice bouncing in the emptiness.

You halt with a screech in front of the locked door.

The door opens with a soft click and you turn on the lights, the 181024 studio illuminating with a warm glow. Your movements are quick as you navigate through the familiar surroundings, reaching out for the drawer.

A wave of relief washes over you when the blue pen drive with the owner’s initials is the first thing that comes into your vision after sliding the drawer open.

“Is it still there?” A sudden, soft comment startles you in the silence, hands flying up, increasing the pre-existing panting.

You turn around to address the unexpected guest and it is the last person you expected, quite contradictory, considering that you had been looking forward to his presence ever since today’s sun dawned in the sky.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Seonghwa’s eyes motion to the hand placed on your chest.

You let it fall, your body leaning back into the cabinet with a slight stumble. “No, it’s okay.” Retrieving the pen drive, you close the drawer. “I was just about to return. Mingi is leaving for the dance club soon.”

He studies the well accustomed surroundings, “I was thinking that maybe we can talk here instead?” You notice concealed bags underneath his weary eyes.

There is an evident urgency to the way he speaks, worried glances directed throughout the room.

For a brief moment you wish to wrap your arms around his warm and tall figure. To assure him and to be assured but you have to know what he has to say to control these storming feelings.

“Okay, yeah, sure, let’s talk here.” The temperature is too toasty to keep the coat on, you remove it and settle down on the only couch present in the studio.

Seonghwa closes the door behind him and takes a seat beside you, his fidgety fingers trying to keep themselves from reaching out to caress your face.

You gulp, pushing back your hair that is sticking to the nape of your neck, eagerly awaiting for him to speak. “Hwa?”

He looks up. “Yes?”

You let out a big exhale. “Can I say something before we talk about the Japan situation?” The fingers of your left hand begin pulling the threads of your right sleeve. “I have been thinking about certain things. Mostly about what I’ve been feeling which I often don’t think about.” Unknowingly, a nervous chuckle slips out of you.

He adjusts a little in his seat. “Yes, of course (Y/N). Tell me.” He is expecting to hear the conclusion he had been dreading.

“You know, when I heard from Mingi that you are leaving for Japan, the first thought that crossed my mind was a selfish one.” You observe his expression before you continue. He offers you every grain of his attention. “Even though both of us are busy with our own studies, you still find time for me, look out for me and I don’t know, it just feels extremely comforting in your presence. It’s almost as if I don’t have to worry about anything when you’re around."

That was not what he presumed you wanted to say to him.

His expression softens. “(Y/N), you look out for me as well, I hope you know how much I value the time we spend.”

A small sad smile appears on your lips. “It comes to naturally, I don’t know, I just feel like you’re always looking out for everyone but you’re a big baby yourself. You need someone to look out for you as well, dummy.” He opens his mouth to protest at your playful comment but you’re quick to continue. “It hasn’t been so long, maybe a few weeks but everything went so well. I looked forward to even the shortest amount of time we spent together. Even when you spontaneously appeared out of nowhere and accompanied me to the class.” You stop for a moment. “I’m not making much sense right now, am I?”

He shakes his head, an expression of awe written all over his features. “No, I understood everything, it’s okay.”

“But” You hesitate and his features shift into an anxious one. “But, I didn't consider the eventual obstacles we might face in the future, taking in account that you’re graduating next year and I am barely beginning my college life. I actually purposely didn’t think about it, I wanted to save it for later until--”

“Until you learned that I am leaving for Japan.” He concludes the sentence in your stead.

You nod. “I like you a lot, Seonghwa. My feelings are intense enough that I won’t be able to decide what I should be feeling next unless you tell me everything yourself.” You said it, you finally said it.

“What?” He questions, a little taken aback.

Oh no. Maybe, I shouldn’t have poured out everything at once. God, what have I done?

The way he appears perplexed, he definitely was not expecting you to dump out your feelings on him when you said you wanted to talk. You are pretty sure he is feeling pressured by this revelation.

“The important thing you wanted to tell me was not putting an end to us before it escalated further?” After hearing his question, it's your turn to be confused by his words.

“What?” You push back the unruly hair falling in front of your face with both of your hands, unable to decide if he’s suggesting to end things.

He moves a little closer. “You don’t want to end what we have, right?”

“No! But that depends on whether you’re going or not. Wait, do you want to end...this?”

“No!” He is extremely quick to answer. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes?” You’re eager to hear what he has to say. The puzzling thoughts are clouding your mind.

“I am not moving to Japan after graduation. I am simply accompanying Hongjoong for a month to help him settle, like a short vacation after three years of continuous college.” He finally admits the entire thing. The following sentence that truly makes or breaks the incomplete one you had heard before. The incomplete one you had heard before and especially not from him.

“You’re not moving to Japan after graduation? You’re only going away for a month? Just a month?” You repeat to make sure that you heard it right even though he stated it with proper enunciation.

In the span of twenty years of your life, you didn’t know that it was possible to feel embarrassed and relieved at the same time yet at this moment you’re experiencing both.

You’re embarrassed because of the millions of possible negative scenarios you coddled in your mind, the time you spent brooding, the time your friends had to take measures to elevate your mood and relieved that hopefully nothing would change between you and Seonghwa, at least not in the way you had feared them to and despised every second of those intrusive thoughts.

“Yes, I am only going away for a month after my graduation.” There is now a similar smile of relief on his lips.

The edges of your shoulders droop. “If you can’t tell, I feel extremely stupid right now. I feel so stupid.”

Seonghwa tilts his head, his movements relaxing for the first time since you started speaking. “Will it help if I told you that I assumed the same? I feel stupid for not telling you myself before you heard it from someone else and that’s what caused the misunderstanding in the first place, (Y/N). Their is no one at fault here, trust me.”

“Are you disappointed?” The inquiry slips out of your subconscious.

His hands take yours to securely enclose them in between his palms. “Not at all. There will be small misunderstandings, bad feelings, unintentional hurtful words and external factors that will stand as an obstacle in any relationship. Do you know how happy I am that you decided to hear me out instead of arriving at a conclusion of your own? I was worried, (Y/N).” His faltered gaze lingers on the entangled fingers. “I was worried that right when I started spending time with someone who understands me, who makes me smile, who relieves me from my troubles and brings out the good sides in me might end up leaving.” He bites back the urge to say, ‘again’.

“Oh, Seonghwa.”

Without further thought, you reach out to him and pull him close into you by clasping your arms firmly around his shoulders. He responds immediately as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you even closer. He snuggles his face into the crevice of your neck, his gentle breaths causing a little tickling sensation.

Out of all the times he has held you before, sometimes unintentionally when you’re with your friends, quite often after a long day when he falls into your embrace, and always before you leave for the night after the show, today you feel the utmost satisfaction and at ease.

His hand is caressing your back in a serene motion to cast away the doubts created by the miscommunication.

You remove your face from his homely shoulder, arms still intact around him as if he is the most precious being in this world. “Let’s talk, okay? Let’s give each other time in future so that we can solve things when we’re ready to talk. I know things will change, things are bound to change but let’s try to understand as we get through the most simplest or the most complicated situations.”

He appears displeased that you disturbed him from the snugness of your neck that he had settled in to but delivers an instant agreement to your question along with a quick peck that he places to the closest cheek. “Yes, let’s.”

Blood begins rushing to your face instantly due to his sweet gesture.

“So, can we go back to the part when you said you like me a lot?” To your disappointment, he releases the hold around your waist but the disappointment is short-lived as the free hand of his travels to your thigh in an attempt to lift you onto his lap.

The bold action of his catches you off guard, his other hand now bringing you closer to him with not even a centimeter of space left in between. The thumping of your heart is ringing in your ear as you feel his thighs you’ve been flopped onto, underneath.

You’re stunned with arms still locked around his shoulders. “Why do we have to go back to that part in particular?” The intimacy is making it difficult for you to maintain a constant eye contact with him.

His eyes that hold an amused yet admiring gleam try to find yours but you’re dealing with a current little conflict of your own. The thoughts are flashing with intense hues in your mind due the fact that his hand is resting quite dangerously on your thigh and the other arm has you locked by the waist.

You are not complaining but this outcome is not what you exactly prepared yourself for. This particular scenario did not even cross your mind for a nanosecond. How come this has never crossed your mind? He has nice thighs.

He has nice thighs? Of course he has nice thighs! You have noticed how sturdy they are, especially when he’s wearing skinny jeans. Oh my god, did I ogle at Seonghwa’s thighs in public when he was wearing skinny jeans? What if he caught me ogling at him when he was wearing skinny jeans? IN PUBLIC? Not to forget the time you kept staring at the definitions of his arms that one blessing of a day when he wore a tank top due to the sweltering weather. But how can I not look at him when he looks THIS ATTRACTIVE? WHAT EXACTLY AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IN THIS SITUATION?

As you’re contemplating and battling with quite interesting thoughts, entranced in your own bubble, Seonghwa is observing you with a smirk that you have not noticed yet.

“What are you thinking about? You’re stark red, baby.” He appears absolutely delighted, a kind of joy you’ve ever witnessed before.

“Baby? Baby?” You repeat like a lust stricken puppet.

“Yes?” His hand trails from your neck to your waist in an excruciatingly slow pace. The temperature in the studio rising enough to convince you to discard your clothes.

Why did my mind even go to the thought of removing clothes? Shut up!

His hand settles on the nape of your neck, tugging you down to his forehead. “You don’t like this?”

You part your lips to answer but your system fails to support you.

His breath fans on your lips due to the proximity of your faces. “Can I kiss you?” His voice sounds heavy when he asks. A deep tone you’ve never heard him speak with.

“What?” You’re flustered, heart thumping wildly in your ribcage, ready to burst out. Your gaze continues shifting back and forth between his beautiful, chestnut eyes and tender, pink, kissable lips.

His finger gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you, (Y/N)?”

You unlock the clasp of your fingers from behind his neck to carefully hold his cheeks. “Oh. I mean, yes, of course--”

Your lips collide. They meet with such haste as if he had been counting days just to have you to himself. The feeling of his plump lips against yours is unbelievable. Unbelievable enough for you to tilt your head for a deeper taste. He tastes like strawberries, extremely sweet and addicting.

Your chests are pressed together, hearts beating frantically in a mismatched rhythm but sharing the fervour. You let one hand trail down to trace the unexplored areas you couldn’t dare to before. His entire body is blazing with a familiar passion that is swirling within you as well. He lets his hand perform smooth strokes around your neck with his dainty fingers supplying a tingling sensation all the way down to your core by the delicacy of the action.

He kisses you. He drinks you in, again and again. You break apart for a mere second to take in a deep breath and connect your lips with such urgency, unable to get enough of each other.

In the moment that is burning up with each and every second ticking by, actions are getting bolder. Seonghwa’s hands move up to your chest, to explore every inch of you and your fingers are roaming through his hair, kneading through the soft black locks. The dizzying movements intoxicating him further.

He catches your lower lip in quick, needy pecks and proceeds with something you did not see coming. His teeth grasp it with a painfully long drawl, leaving you breathless. A swarm of butterflies are whirling in your stomach and your head leans back the moment he releases your lips to let the suppressed throaty moan finally escape. He takes the opportunity to pepper feathery kisses all the way around your collarbone, the plump lips connecting with warmth and leaving behind a chill that vibrates down your spine.

Chests heaving up and down with exhilaration and shortness of breath, You grab his face and plant one long lasting peck.

“OH MY GOD, NOT AGAIN!” A deafening, exasperated exclaim pierces your ears.

The shriek frightens you as you lose your balance and your forehead bumps against Seonghwa’s head with a loud thud causing you two to hiss and yelp at the impact.

There he stands by the door, Song Mingi, the requester of the pen drive that vanished magically out of your minds. His ears are boiling red, jaw hanging a little too low and eyes stretched to their maximum possible width.

Mingi takes in every detail ruefully. Seonghwa’s hands messily entangled around your neck and waist while yours held his face. Your body cozy on his friend’s lap, hair disheveled, swollen red lips and loss of air depicts it crystal clear that PG-13 activities were surely going to lead up to Rated R. Mingi does not wish to know what happened before and he definitely does not wish to be aware of what was going to happen on the studio couch. The only couch in the studio to crash on, the couch he liked to roll on while Hongjoong worked and now it will be the couch he is never going to even lay one finger on.

“Mingi, I--” Seonghwa opens his mouth to explain, maybe even apologise for the sight the boy has walked onto.

Meanwhile, you’re occupied with examining the ceiling to its greatest details, unable to register Mingi’s presence due to the embarrassment.

The tall boy holds up his hands. “You were here for the pen drive, the pen drive!” He mutters under his breath, snatching the blue device from the half open drawer with furious eyes. “What is with you guys kissing and me walking at the exact time? It was cringy back then, now it’s just, my god” You decide to answer but he silences you and continues, “You were supposed to talk! What happened to talking? Oh my god, leave me alone, please.” He shakes his shoulders and arms with a face of disgust.

“We were talking.” You say in a timid tone.

Seonghwa nods a little too enthusiastically. “We were talking.”

Mingi rolls his eyes. “Clearly.” He stomps towards the door. “Clearly, you were talking and not sucking each other’s face in a public studio. Not in the studio, guys! God, whatever. I am leaving.”

Yeosang’s warnings about funny business in the studio pops into your mind.

“MINGI DON’T TELL YEOSANG, PLEASE!” You scream out a plea as Mingi walks out.

He answers in his low voice already out of the studio. “STOP MAKING OUT IN PUBLIC STUDIOS!”

If it wasn’t for Seonghwa’s hands resting on your hips, keeping you settled, you’d leaped out behind Mingi.

He chuckles beneath you, thumbs tracing circles on your stomach. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll complain for a week and then forget about it.”

The thought of flustered Mingi and irritated Yeosang is pushed far back into your mind the moment your eyes take in the bliss present on Seonghwa’s features. “You’ll silence them with that gentle glare of yours whereas they’ll bring it up every time I cause a minor inconvenience, we’re different, Hwa.” Even though you’re supposed to be complaining, you’re focused on fixing the strands of hair ruffling against his forehead.

“I like it when you call me ‘Hwa’. God, what are you doing to me?” He leans upwards to place a soft peck on your jaw almost pulling you back into the extraordinary emotions you experienced a few minutes ago. “I like you a lot, (Y/N).”

You release yourself from his hold and he displays extreme dismay at your actions. “You better or else the makeout session would make no sense if you didn’t.”

He too, stands up and his arm sneaks around your waist. “I am feeling too good, nothing will get me riled up today.” His lips find your cheek again. He had been waiting for a while to shower you with affection and now that he has received the golden chance, he will not waste it.

“Hongjoong and Yeosang will find out and scold you.” Your comment goes through his one ear and escapes through the other. He is elated and unbothered.

“Mmmm, okay.” He responds lightheartedly with a shrug.

The contentment he is displaying through gentle touches, adoring eyes and unfading smile, you’re capturing all those elements to cherish at present and in the uncertain but the coming future, with Seonghwa. The mere thought is giddying enough.

You’re falling for this man and you’re falling hard but you’re unaware that so is he.

Pairing: (Business Management Major) College Student! Seonghwa x (Law Major) College Student! Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, A teeny tiny bit of smut with a pinch of angst

Synopsis: High school crushes are often silly and forgotten. However, you cannot forget the one senior, you “borrowed” once a kiss from. Years have passed and it’s a memory you laugh at but what will happen if you’re to encounter the same senior in a much different setting and situation? Especially during your first year of college.

A/N: Take a shot every time Mingi says “God, My god, Oh my god.”

How are you guys doing? How did you like the chapter? do tell, do tell! Spare feedback please!

I attempted to write a steamy scene, did I do well? I am not quite experienced (nervous laughter) but I tried my best to relay what I wanted to. We’re SO close to the end. Earlier I was just thinking that my god, something I started is actually finishing, I can’t believe it.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

🌸Tags:

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @cloudsgathering @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @retrofuture-ism @hongjoongsnoona @ateezficz @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @choisaniskillingme @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @baes-moon-scribbles @uppiespuppy @mingiflower @multiangell

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Please do not repost, modify or claim these images.

#ateez #ateez social media au #ateez fluff #ateez fake texts #ateez text au #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateezsmau #ateez sm au #ateez social au #ateez au #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jung yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #choi san #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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kimshavacado · 5 years

Text

Dead Heat Ch. 7

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage/Mafia AU

Summary: Three extremely powerful families with enough power to bring down entire governments, all with vastly different views on how things should be run. The Min family thinks everything can be solved with money, the Jeon family think everything can be solved with violence, and the Kim family relies more on thought which leads to a lack of action. When Kim Y/N loses her father, she only has one way to save herself and her family. But it involves having to give herself over to a stranger. How the hell is she not supposed to punch him in his stupid rich face?

Dead Heat Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Awkwardness

A/N: I had a dream about an ending different than I had originally planned so this chapter will decide which ending I use in the next chapters. There will be a decision Y/N will have to make, and I’ll appreciate your input into what she should do. Enjoy!

Chapter 7: I Always Sleep On Left

Jimin’s POV:

Jimin has been extremely bored recently. He blames this on the fact Jeon’s pulled everyone back, but he can’t help but think about the hole in his chest where you once were. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Naturally, he finds himself at the same old bar watching the rest of the guys drink and dance with women. Most nights are like this recently, filled with bitter feelings and bitter alcohol.

He mindlessly takes out his phone and scrolls through his messages. He half scans the conversations until he gets to you. Against his better judgement, he opens the conversation and looks again at the last things you sent.

He reads through each of your pleas of reassurance. He could see you were worried, that is, until the messages stop. He stares at the screen until he’s had enough, then makes the stupid decision to scroll up.

He sees the text exchange you have before your wedding. Then he sees the one about your father. It doesn’t stop, he finds himself going back through the years, torturing himself.

Around the time he reaches some messages about past birthday shenanigans, Taehyung plops himself ungracefully in the chair next to Jimin. He closes the messaging app and focuses instead on his drink.

“Why do you look so depressed? You look like you’ve just been dumped or something.” Taehyung comments.

“Something like that.” Jimin replies, causing Tae to let out a sigh.

“Come on! We don’t have any responsibilities right now, you should be enjoying it while you can.”

“I know, I’m just bored. Honestly, I never thought I’d want to work so badly.” Tae laughs at this but is interrupted by a notification on everyone’s phones.

“Well it looks like you won’t have to wait long, we’ve got a meeting tomorrow. I hope boss has got plans.” Taehyung pats Jimin’s back before walking back towards the rest of the guys.

Jimin can only sit and hope for the best. What that was exactly, he doesn’t know yet. Instead of getting hammered, he thinks he’ll just call it a night and leaves early for once.

The meeting is buzzing. No one knows the entire story just yet, but they are aware that they’d finally be able to do something. Jungkook has shared his father’s immediate wishes.

As far as what the Min’s know, they’ve been assuming the worst. The only way to know for sure is to get their hands on everything they have. Cue the breaking in plan.

If there was a time when you and Yoongi were out of the house, there’d be practically no one to stop them. Everyone was concerned with the safety of you two, not the safety of the information you had.

The plan would get them the info and also had the advantage of being a scare tactic. We could reach you before and we still can.

When Jimin hears this, many thoughts go through his head again. He’s torn over all the different ending scenarios in his head. He’s only pulled out of it when the meeting ends and everyone leaves. He needs to pull himself together.

Your POV:

You lie in your bed and stare at the ceiling, still having questions stirring around in your head. You really hated Yoongi’s habit of not cluing you in on things, it made you feel vulnerable and not in control.

Speaking of vulnerable, you can’t help but be paranoid. It’s at least obvious that someone had broken into the Min mansion. Yet here you are, just pretending nothing happened, sent to bed like a child. You’re starting to resent your relationship with Yoongi again. Him attempting to protect you is doing nothing but make you feel more like a child.

When you close your eyes, you can’t seem to quiet your mind. These thoughts of the unknown and the knowledge that someone could’ve been in your room looking through your things tonight cause you to be restless. You can’t just sit there anymore.

A second later you find yourself standing in the hall outside your door. No destination in mind, you just need reassurance. But you’re not quite sure what you need to be reassured of yet. The hallway is dark and eerie so you head towards the lighter end where it opens to the main staircase.

When you reach the end of the hall you hear voices from the grand foyer. You tiptoe across to the other side of the stairs to avoid catching any of their attention. It’s then that you realize you’ve found your way to the door to Yoongi’s study. You go to knock but hesitate. What we’re you even going to say?

“He’s not in there.” A voice scares the shit out of you and you not so gracefully collapse against the door of the study. When you come to your senses, you recognize the face as the guard you incapacitated during one of your first nights living here.

“Jesus! Not cool. At all.” You silently reprimand him.

“Just trying to save you the mental dilemma of figuring out if you should knock.”

“Well I’d appreciate it if you’d save that for when there’s no fear of death while walking around the halls.” You huff out.

“Well I’d appreciate it if I wasn’t decked by the new lady on her first night, but then again, there’s some crazy ass people out there.”

You scoff.

“Like I said, he’s not here. He went to bed a bit ago.” He says before you can make another comeback. You decide try your luck for answers.

“Who are the guys downstairs?” You ask. He lets out an uninterested sigh and starts to walk away.

“Go ask your husband.”

You decide that you now feel no remorse for knocking him out before.

Eventually you find yourself back at your bedroom but instead of going inside you look down to Yoongi’s bedroom door at the end of the hall. Would he still be awake?

You shuffle your way down the hall and put your ear to the door. After about ten seconds, you don’t hear anything so you turn around and stare back the way you came. The next couple minutes is a very awkward back and forth of walking from your door to his and then changing your mind.

You’re leaning against the frame of the doorway, still trying to figure out what to ask him. Of course, that’s when the door cracks open.

Yoongi’s head pops out with a look of suspicion like he’s confronting some unknown wild animal. His face is inches from yours for a moment. You immediately straighten yourself

“What… are you doing?” He asks, rightfully weirded out.

“Um… Just… walking around?” You visually cringe at the unconvincing answer.

“Uh, you probably… shouldn’t. We’ve got guests.” The entire conversation is incredibly awkward because of your weird behavior. The pauses in between your and his sentences are almost unbearable.

“Is it because of the break in?” Duh, of course it is, why are you asking him that?

“Yeah. There’ll be more people tomorrow. I’ll tell you about it then.” You nod before looking down at your feet. After another uncomfortable pause Yoongi sighs and opens up his door a bit more.

“Y/N, why are you walking around outside of my door in the middle of the night? It’s not because you want to ask about those men, you’re smart enough to figure that out by yourself.”

You don’t really know why you were drawn to Yoongi, because he doesn’t really know much more than you do yet. And now he’s calling you out on it, but you don’t know how to answer. You’re just glad that Yoongi is patient enough to wait for you to figure it out.

“Jimin…” You stop, finally realizing the issue you seem to have.

“My god, why am I going to tell you this?” You whisper to yourself. You rub your face as if that would help gather yourself. Your eyes connect with Yoongi’s.

“After my home was broken into, when I was younger, I…Jimin…helped me. I’d experienced how easy it was for them to just…” You take a deep breath as you look away from him again. “I had him then. He stayed with me because…I was scared.”

You open your mouth to continue. Maybe find some sort of way to keep up your façade and say you weren’t scared. Trying to prove something, but the words don’t come out.

Yoongi nods in a sort of understanding. Which is weird because you still haven’t actually given a reason to why you came to him.

“Alright. Look, on the condition that you leave the awkwardness here, you can stay here. With me. If you want.”

“Um, I didn’t..”

“Well, you asked without asking.” Your frozen state causes him to explain his decision more. “What kind of a guy would I be to have my wife suffer through her past without me.” Sometimes he just says the weirdest shit.

He turns heel and walks into his room but leaves the door open for you to follow. It’s dark inside but you try to analyze the layout and décor. He suddenly turns around sharply and points a finger at you.

“You’re not going to jump me, right?” He asks, very accusatory.

“What!? NO.” You say, a bit horrified as to what he meant.

“Kidding. I’m a light sleeper anyway. I’d see you coming.” He laughs and you see his façade fade in less than a second. How can he go from serious to joking that quickly? It’s mentally exhausting to witness.

“I have something to take care of real quick anyway. I’ll be back in a few, just… go to sleep I guess.” He states before sneaking out the door leaving you alone.

What is even happening right now? You’re in his room about to sleep in his bed. His bed is bigger and looks warmer than the one you were given down the hall. And despite his personality, he seems to have excellent taste in décor.

To save your mind from overworking again you decide to just do as he said and attempt to sleep. Maybe it’s the welcoming embrace of the softest sheets you’ve ever felt in your life or maybe it’s the knowledge that Yoongi will be back, but something finally allows you to drift off. Shit, you could get used to this.

For once, you don’t dream about the past. Tonight you look to the future.

Jimin’s POV:

They have been told it’s been about 20 minutes since you left by the time they arrive. They have placed their men strategically as to not alert anyone inside. Jimin is somewhere on the side of the building listening to the surveillance team.

“All I see is two on the main floor. Just guards.”

“No need for elaborate avoidance then. Take them out and we’ll be able to waltz in.”

“I’ll take team alpha in straight through the front then.”

Jimin practically goes through the entire plan just watching. Many people, a few gun shots, and order to enter.

“You know what we’re looking for. Find anything. Meet back here in 20 minutes.”

“Jimin let’s go find his office!” Taehyung cheerfully chants while skipping up the stairs. As he follows up the stairs all that goes through his mind is how wrong this all feels.

He doesn’t get to wallow in the mental crisis for long before Taehyung is kicking down the door to Yoongi’s study.

“Wow! This place looks like it’s owned by an old man!” Taehyung makes fun of the dark wood furniture and old dusty books. “I’ll start at the cabinets, you wanna go through the desk?”

“Sure.” Jimin responds blandly. He shuffles through all the documents on the desk before reaching for the drawers. Inside he finds conveniently labeled envelopes with the info they are looking for.

“Woah! You got it? Man, that’s a lot.” Taehyung takes one of the folders. He looks through it as Jimin looks through the one with your name on it.

“How’d they get these pictures of us?” Taehyung shows him the pictures of their group and looks back to the ones in your folder.

“There’s no way they don’t know what we’re trying to do.” Jimin says grimly.

“Come on! Let’s take these downstairs.” Taehyung slaps his back before scooping up some folders and walking out the door to the study. Jimin waits a very long few seconds before he follows.

The next morning, as Jimin finds himself lost in thought, Taehyung approaches him again, persistant as ever.

“Whatever you’re thinking about is eating you alive. Think about something else for once, you’re no fun when you’re depressed.” He whines. He’s actually a good friend and cares for Jimin in his own way. Jimin nods in acknowledgement to his statement.

“Let’s go out, I think it’d do you some good. I’ll even let you pick.” Taehyung offers Jimin. “We could invite the hyungs, like old times.” He gives a bright, innocent looking smile. Jimin puts his face in his hands.

“Maybe your right.” He needs to remember why he’s here. He needs to just quiet the war in his mind for good, and he might know a way he can do that.

Your POV:

You’re very warm. Hot almost, but not uncomfortably so. You come half into consciousness before going wide eyed at the face centimeters from yours. It seems like he had crawled into bed on the same side you had already occupied last night.

You stop breathing and slowly inch backwards until there’s an appropriate distance between you two. When he moves a bit you freeze yourself. He opens his eyes and reads your freaked out expression before rolling his eyes and closing them again.

“I always sleep on left.”

After a few minutes, you slowly escape the warmth of the bed to sneak out. If Yoongi notices, he doesn’t try to stop you. You head back to your room, which now feels cold and lonely. You wash up, get dressed, and prepare yourself for the undoubtedly long day your about to have because of the men downstairs.

Just as you throw on a sweater, you hear your phone ring. It’s such a mundane thing that it takes you a second to realize that no one should be calling you. As you stalk over to your phone cautiously, your heart sinks to your feet when you read the name on the screen.

Jimin.

** Do you answer or decline? **

A/N: Do you answer or decline? The decision is one that will determine the ending and will directly affect the lives of multiple characters. As Y/N, think about what the choice means for others. Do you want to make things messy? Do you want to fight for what you believe? Do you trust him? What do you do?

Next Chapter

Tags: @badbyeyoongi @whothefuckstolemykeds @xxqueenwxtchxx @alecmidnight @rjsmochii @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta @ superarmyofdreamersuk

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fsketchart · 5 years

Text

A Second Chance - Chapter 4

Marinette tries to clear up some misunderstandings, meanwhile Hawkmoth debuting a new villain to the public.

I was planning on making this longer but I wasn't feel well today, I nearly passed out :D so if the chapter feels a little short it's because I was planning on making it longer... :P But I hope you enjoy! You're comments, love and support motivate me to keep it up and I can't tell you how much it means to me!

AU by @ozmav.

“What on Earth were you thinking, Alfred? That girl is in there with valuables, she broke in here!” Damian cried out exasperated. No wonder the light was on, she must’ve been snooping around, Damian thought bitterly.

“She is a guest here, Young Master Damian, and that box belongs to her. I invited her here myself, and I offered her an invitation to stay for as long as she needs. Her home life is...not suitable for her at this moment,” Alfred reprimanded, trailing off at the end. “I understand your concerns but her father is my cousin, and I expect a thorough apology to my niece. She’s family to me, so I ask that you do not behave so ill mannered towards her again.” Alfred gestured towards the living room, but Damian just glared at the girl sitting there. He tugged on Titus's leash and swiftly left the room altogether. Alfred stood there for a moment, before sighing and entering the living room. Marinette whipped her head around at the sound of footsteps, before sighing out of relief at the sight of Alfred.

"I apologize for the behavior of the Young Master, he has some behavioral issues that Master Bruce tends to turn a blind eye too. I can speak to him-"

"Absolutely not. I understand why he sees me as a threat. I'm a total stranger who just showed up in his home, I get it. I'm not angry...just shaken up right now," Marinette explained, cutting him off. Alfred nodded.

"Head upstairs to your room, it's at the second floor, the 3rd room to the right. It's the first hallway you see at the 2nd flight of stairs," Alfred directed. "The bedroom light should be on, and a pair of sleepwear will be left on the bed." Marinette once again enveloped him in a hug.

"I can't thank you enough for this, thank you so, so much..."

He hugged her back for a moment before pointing towards the staircase at the end of the hallway. Marinette nodded and made her way over.

~~~~~~\(°¬°)/~~~~~~

Marinette walked down the dark corridor before stopping at the third door. She opened up the door to be greeted with a large room. There was a large window showing the full moon, with a few candles lit around the room. A pair of black pajamas were laying on the large, fancy bed. The walls were a dark and scary gray, and Marinette took notice to the dust beginning to form at the bookshelf. She set down the box at the desk and glanced out the window. Tikki silently nuzzled into her cheek tiredly, before floating towards the end of the bed and quietly nuzzling up to the blanket, falling fast asleep.

Marinette got changed quickly, taking care not to mess up her bandages covering her arms and torso.

She was about to blow out her candles as she looked out the window, before noticing a dark hooded figure make his over the buildings, sprinting towards the manor. Marinette's heart raced wildly as she quickly ran out the door, about to alert Alfred. Tikki woke up with a start at the sound, hearing the loud sound of doors being swung open. They both backed away from the main entrance, hiding behind the corner.

That's when they saw him.

A tall man with a black mask and a large black cape draping over him. He had a neon yellow symbol of a bat on his chest, and a matching utility belt. Marinette was about to run in there, before seeing the same kid from before angrily walk over there, followed by Alfred. Marinette froze as they argued.

"Greetings Master Bruce-"

"Father, Alfred decided to invite some weird girl to the Manor and I'm fairly sure she's trying to steal-"

Wait...his father?

"Absolutely not! I will not tolerate you speaking so ill about her-"

"She's making Titus feel unsafe-"

"You're making HER feel unsafe-"

"Enough. Why did you call me over here, Alfred?"

"But-"

"My cousin’s daughter came here from Paris seeking help. There's a war going on in Paris right now, about the Miraculous," Alfred started.

"Hawkmoth. That's his name, correct?" Bruce interrupted, recalling hearing his name from the reports from Paris.

"Correct, Master Bruce," Alfred stated.

Marinette's eyes widened, processing the information.

Alfred was about to continue before Bruce held his hand up.

"Tomorrow morning we will discuss what is happening. Until then, I will be in the bat cave looking over the security feeds and claims, to see what is true and what is false," Bruce stated, already pushing past both of them.

"But father the girl-"

"Is Alfred's niece (correct me if I’m wrong) and may have information on the Joker's whereabouts. She will be...tolerated while her stay is here. Are we clear?" Bruce cut off. Damian just sighed.

"...yes, father."

Marinette just paused, before turning around and quietly making her way back to her room.

~~~~~~\(°¬°)/~~~~~~

Damian just stared at the ceiling, before rolling out of bed. He could smell fresh pancakes and bacon downstairs, maybe even a few waffles. Alfred seemed to be trying out a new recipe, Damian thought. Titus began pawing at his legs and barking in his ears. Damian just smiled softly, patted his head and made his way out of his room.

When he stumbled into the kitchen however, Alfred was in fact not baking. Instead, the same short girl had her sleeves rolled up and wearing an apron, humming a tune quietly as she navigated the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Damian asked, suspicious and cautious.

"I wanted to apologize for the mix up from yesterday. I really wasn't trying to attack you or steal your belongings, I know you were only trying to defend yourself," Marinette's spoke softly and sincerely. Damian eyes the pancakes suspiciously.

"How do I know these pancakes aren't drugged or poisoned and won't kill me the moment I take a bite?" Damian asked, pointing to the top of the stack.

Marinette just paused, before walking over and eating the first pancake of the stack herself.

"I know you must be disappointed but surprise surprise, I'm still alive. I assure you, the pancakes are safe," she smiled softly, her pride evident in her voice. Damian caved and gathered a few pancakes and set them on his plate. He about to roll his eyes when he bit into the first pancake, surprised at the taste of them. They were and sweet, but overwhelmingly so, tasty enough to brighten up almost anyone’s day.

She's just trying to butter me up, Damian thought. Well, no point in letting good pancakes go to waste.

Marinette just smirked proudly as she started on the next batch.

~~~~~~\(°¬°)/~~~~~~

A tall figure stepped forward confidently before stopped at his destination.

Knock knock.

Pause.

Knock knock knock.

Pause.

Knock.

Suddenly the ground below him shook, lowering him down to a dark room.

A man with dark slicked by hair and a purple suit walked in. His skin was a pale white, emphasizing his off-putting smile.

"I sent out some of my men to one of the rebel camps, should give them a bit of a scare," the pale man spoke.

"I see," spoke another, this one walking with a cane, with a gray shiny mask and a dark suit. Surrounding him, were small, dark, purple butterflies. "Fly away my little akumas, trace that fear and utilize it." Several butterflies took flight, swiftly darting out of the shattered window.

"So I hear you encountered a new hero this time, correct?" Hawkmoth asked, not bothering to turn around.

"An old man, dressed up like a mutant ninja turtle. Though the spotted little lady suddenly deemed our entertainment too boring, she didn't even bother to show up," the Joker spoke, almost offended, taking a step forward.

"Then we must draw her out," Hawkmoth spoke.

"And just how do you intend that?"

"Simple. You didn't truly think there was only one miraculous box, did you? Many were destroyed years ago, but there were several guardians for a reason. We managed to salvage a few that were scattered across the globe and utilize them," Hawkmoth explained.

"Are they as powerful as the previous ones?" the Joker asked, excitedly.

"Sadly, no. These are ranked as minor miraculous, but enough to deal great damage. Lady Wi-Fi, come forth!" Hawkmoth called. She quickly stepped forward, holding out a necklace. It had a bright green stone, that the Joker immediately reached out to touch. Once he made contact with it, it shape shifted to become a bright green bow tie, emitting a dark presence about it.

"This is the hawk miraculous, it grants the wielder heightened speed, and will grant you a once per battle ability to see through walls for 30 seconds. After you use it, you will have 3 minutes until you detransform. To trigger the ability, say, 'Arise my seeing eyes!' To transform, say, 'Kite, talons out!'"

The joker smiled wildly before telling the trigger words. Suddenly, his old suit was replaced with a long trench coat, that was jet black. Underneath was a suit that was a dark purple, and he wore a black top hat with a purple stripe in the middle. In his hand was a single desk of cards, the two joker cards having a set of seeing eyes on them, allowing him to see what the cards sees. His mask was a black and purple mask, adorned with jewels at the edge. The Joker began to cackle wildly, almost concerning Hawkmoth himself.

"Let’s bring some smiles on those kids’ faces."

Tag List

@kceedraws @resignedcatservant @shamefulllove @emotionalsupportginger@ellerahs @littleredrobinhoodlum @graduatedmelon @mooshoon @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mystery-5-5 @kuroko26 @noirdots@tazanna-blythe @friedchickening @crazylittlemunchkin @princertain @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @thornangelic727 @felicityroth @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @constancetruggle @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @northernbluetongue @miraculous-ninja

#daminette #maridami #maribat #marinette x damian #ASecondChanceFSketchArt

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foxtophat · 4 years

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here’s chapter 4!!! it’s been about a week and a half, two weeks since John Seed reappeared, and now nick is ready to take his vengence! by... having john do basic tasks to repair the homestead. hey, this isn’t eden’s gate -- what do you expect, skin flaying and long-winded religious diatribes? (weird, that’s exactly what john expects, all the time, from everyone!)

i really love this story and am so thrilled that other people seem to enjoy it too!!! it’s fun to write, and since i know it’s just full on self-indulgent bullshit, i don’t feel guilty for not being ~~realistic~~ about the whole thing. fuck it! nick is a pacifist now!!!

i’ve included today’s chapter under the cut so you don’t have to leave tumblr if you don’t want to. if you’re enjoying this story, please consider reblogging so your friends can also enjoy my hellscape! or, you know, do what makes you happy, it’s not like i can force you to ruin your aesthetics blog on my behalf. stay frosty my dudes, i’ll see you in 2 weeks!

Well, John doesn't die. Despite that being the only good thing the man could possibly do, he manages to hang on through the first night, looking better before the week is out. It's a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Nick no longer feels like he's serving a skeleton its last meal; on the other, it means that John is more than likely here to stay. Every time Nick goes to give him food, he finds the room just a little bit more lived in, the tarp turning into a makeshift bed as John struggles to settle in. Just yesterday, Nick had noticed a short series of tally lines scratched in the wall, marking each day of his sentence as though he were confined to solitary.

Nick should probably be happy with how smoothly things are going. He should probably be glad that John is keeping quiet and politely recuperating without so much as a snide remark. It's what he wanted, after all — for John to wave a white flag and agree to an unconditional surrender. And yet Nick can't help but feel short-changed, as if John owes him at least one opportunity to punch him in the face for being an asshole. It used to be something Nick dreamed about doing; he'd fantasized about beating him to a bloody pulp even as John had ripped his skin from his chest. Now, he's not willing to deal with the guilt that would undoubtedly follow.

Nick wishes he could go back to his "fight everyone" thirties. Being a mature adult sucks.

It's bright and early one morning when Nick decides it's past time to do something about the ceiling, which is warped and sagging beneath the nursery. Nick suspects it's a cracked joist, but considering his lack of carpentry skills, he doubts he can do anything to repair it. Right now, all he can do is try to support the weight of the second floor with something other than a wish and a prayer. Thankfully, he saved some of the posts when he dismantled the back porch — now if only Kim weren't going to be busy all day with Carmina, they could actually get some work done.

Except, maybe not!

John has been looking a lot better these past two days, since all he's been doing is resting and regaining his strength. Nick's heard him rummaging around at night, and he's been making himself something of a nest out of the crap left with him. Nick's even heard him talking, although it's anyone's guess who he thinks is listening. Considering how quiet and withdrawn he is when Nick brings him his meals, he doesn't seem interested in what real people have to say.

Honestly, if Nick hadn't been an integral part of John's survival for the past week, he'd think the whole thing was some kind of ploy. Nick's not sure what John would be planning with this act for sympathy, but he isn't going to make the same mistake he did all those years ago and write him off as some rich, coked-out jackass with no thoughts to his name. He's not going to let John sit around and finalize whatever evil machinations he's got brewing in his mind. He's gonna work that sad-sack until the only thing John's thinking about is collapsing from exhaustion.

Nick doesn't reveal his plans until after breakfast. He doesn't want to ruin his favorite meal of the day, not when he can rest aimlessly beside his family around the table, eating ham and eggs while Kim brews coffee. It's the closest they'll ever get to the way life used to be, and Nick can pretend that everything is back to normal as long as he has a cup of coffee in hand. Hell, it's not like watching his eight-year-old daughter methodically clean the family rifle during breakfast is all that weird for Hope County, with or without the apocalypse.

It's probably a good thing that Carmina is distracted. If she realized today was the day John would be seeing sunlight, she'd refuse to go anywhere until her curiosity was satisfied. They've told her as little as they can get away with, given that they're keeping a man prisoner across the hall from them. Mostly that he's a very sick stranger who could make little girls very sick too. She'd bought it for the most part, but Nick's afraid that she won't be able to contain her curiosity for much longer.

"Think I'm gonna get some stuff done while you're gone," he tells Kim, glancing significantly towards the stairs while Carmina isn't looking. "We need to deal with the second floor sooner rather than later."

"Are you sure?" she asks, raising her eyebrows meaningfully back at him. "Is this something you can do on your own?"

"Better to not put it off anymore," Nick replies. "It'll be easier if I have the place to myself, anyway. Less, uh, confusion."

That said, he puts the chore off for almost half an hour after Kim and Carmina head out. He tries to prepare, but there's not much he can do to close off the exits, and it only takes a few minutes to drag all the necessary supplies into place. All he can do at this point is hope that John is only strong enough to help, and not strong enough to run at the first chance he gets. If he does that, Nick's going to have no choice but to shoot him.

Nick does his best to hide his nerves as he unlocks the door. It feels weird to knock so he doesn't, pushing the door open slowly enough for the hinges to creak. John should just be thankful Nick bothers to try giving him any sort of head's up.

John, ungrateful bastard that he is, sleeps through Nick's entrance. He's found the cheap wool guest blanket that Nick would never dream of actually offering to guests, which seems fitting. His shirt is crumpled next to him, leaving Nick with the unfortunate view of his bare torso.

Nick's seen John shirtless a few times now, but that doesn't make it any easier to stomach. His skin is stretched over his jutting shoulder blades, clinging to every sharp, bony angle of his spine. Nick knows there's not much else for it to cling to - he's seen the way John's stomach sags, too much skin with not enough meat to hang on to. It's all been eaten away from months, maybe even years , of malnutrition and inactivity. The only thing left of the man Nick remembers is a goddamn shadow. Looking down at John, Nick's left to wonder how he had survived at all.

Nick nudges John unkindly with his boot, ignoring the grunt of discomfort he gets in return. "Come on," he snaps, "It's morning. If the sun's up, you're up — this isn't the goddamn Hope County Hilton."

John groans, biting his tongue against whatever snide comment might come to mind. That's too bad — Nick would love to start today off with an ethically-sourced beat-down.

Even though he wants to, Nick refuses to look away as John sits up, revealing all of his tattoos and scars. The tattoos are nothing new, and some of the scars look pre-Collapse old, but John obviously didn't let the bunker curb his self-mutilating tendencies. Some of the tattoos have been ritualistically carved out, leaving flat slabs of scar tissue behind. Others have been scratched out less completely, seemingly at random. The worst part is seeing the ten deep, half-moon gouges in his shoulders, leaving behind raw, fresh scars. Nick can only imagine what led to their creation, but he would really rather not.

"Put your shirt on and eat quick," Nick tells him, setting the plate near enough to John before retreating to wait by the door. The more space he has between them, the better. If John is going to pull something, Nick wants to have room to grab his gun, or at least to brace for a fight. And anyway, John still eats like a mongrel and it's uncomfortable to watch.

"Time to put me to work?" John asks skeptically as he drags his shirt over his torso.

"You bet," Nick replies. Should he be a cagey dick about it? Part of him thinks so, out of spite, but realistically he should temper John's expectations. Nick isn't going to be capable of putting John through the kind of torture he's probably expecting. So, he points out the dipping corner and says, "This whole floor is gonna give out if we don't do something about it. Well, I say we , but I mean you ."

John regards the spot with more skepticism. "That's it?"

"You haven't even seen how much of the house you're going to be digging out of the dirt," Nick points out. "Come on, hurry up already, I don't have all day."

——

Despite being sick as a dog, John's strength is still something to be reckoned with. Nick watches uneasily at first as John makes short work of clearing space for the beam to stand, heaving shovelfuls of dirt out the open window without regard to his wasted muscles. If John decides to come at him with that shovel, it's going to be Nick's reflexes that save him, not his brute strength. Nick's reflexes aren't exactly the best these days, so Nick hopes it doesn't come to that.

It doesn't seem like John is interested in fighting, though. Nick sets him to work with the shovel and he takes it up without so much as a snide comment about Nick trying to order him around. He slings dirt silently, practically zoning out over the manual labor as Nick watches from his side of the room. It's almost like he's in a trance or something, and it's only broken when the shovel scrapes against the wooden floorboards. He comes to a sudden stop, staring at the floor in surprise. He looks up and around, fixing a sour glare at the wide-open back porch that Nick is standing guard in front of before finally looking at Nick himself.

"That's it?"

"Hell no, it isn't," Nick sighs, gesturing towards the beam that he'd dragged in from the woodpile outside. It doesn't rain much nowadays, so it hasn't gone to rot, and it should be just about level with the supports in the ceiling. Plus, it's already got the right hardware attached, and most of it even survived the nuclear blast.

"Come on," he tells John, "You're putting this up."

Still no backtalk, not even as Nick gets his own hands dirty and helps John prop the beam up. He remains silent as Nick fastens it in place with the only three-inch bolts left in America. It's a temporary solution, but Nick's proud of it anyway, and he steps back to admire the work. He has to admit, even if John is planning something, at least his plan involves actually being useful.

"That should work for now," he says. He scratches the back of his head as he regards John — what does he do with the guy now? It seems like a waste to just... jam him back up there. He's obviously capable of working, and that's what Nick said he'd do — break his back with manual labor, right?

"Well, now that we're done with that... I guess you can get to work shoveling the rest of this dirt outta here. It's been pretty low on the list, but it's not like you've got anything better to do."

"No, I suppose not."

"Hey now, what happened to just saying yes ?" Nick grins, feeling mean but still pretty funny for it. John scowls, but he's just not the right audience for the joke, so his opinion doesn't count.

" Yes, sir ," John replies. He's probably just being a dick, but the way he says it roils Nick's stomach on impact.

"Hey, none of that shit," Nick snaps, even though he probably should lean into the boss role while he can. "Just — don't be a fucking weirdo about this, okay?"

John frowns and doesn't respond. He doesn't need Nick to instruct him any further, returning to work with the shovel as though he's forgotten he ever stopped. Nick keeps an eye on him as he has lunch, waiting for John to drop the weird, quiet obedience act that he's been putting on. It has to be an act. John's just using their mercy for his own ends, using them for shelter and food while waiting for the opportunity to strike. To take the house and the guns, to take control of everything that he'd felt so obligated to eight years ago.

An hour goes by in silence. John works steadily, almost meditatively shoveling down to the floorboards, dumping shovelfuls of dirt out the nearest window to him. He's lost in his thoughts, so much so that he doesn't seem to notice as he clears out nearly half of the living room, the shovel scraping against wood like the beat of the drum that's distracting the poor motherfucker.

Eventually, Nick can't help but point out, "You don't talk as much as you used to."

John doesn't so much as look at him, which is more irritating than Nick wants to let on. What, is he supposed to shut up now, too? Forget that !

"I mean, you used to never shut the fuck up. Guess even you couldn't stand listening to yourself for eight years solid, huh?"

John grunts in response. He doesn't look so hot; his face is pale and drenched in sweat, and he seems to be relying on the shovel to steady himself. Nick squints, trying to figure out whether or not the guy is trying to pull a fast one on him — it's exactly the kind of thing Nick would do, if he were being held captive — but John doesn't seem to notice Nick's scrutiny at all. He seems miles away from the house, from himself.

Goddamn it. The more Nick watches, the less comfortable he becomes. "Alright, come on," Nick sighs, exasperation masking his discomfort at seeing John near-fainting. "That's enough for one day, now sit down before you fall down."

It's a toss-up which of those options John takes, but moments later he's flopped backward into the mound of dirt. He leaves streaks of mud across his face where he wipes away the sweat. Nick watches, waiting for the asshole to spring his trap, but John looks sincerely too beat up to try wrestling the gun away or making a break for it. His hair, thick with dust, clumps over his face, dropping into his eyes no matter how many times he tries to smooth it back.

To his personal horror, he finds himself offering John his canteen. He should leave John to drink his own spit with their fresh water supply as low as it is. It's what the man deserves. But they've wasted too much time and supplies on John to be stingy with the water now.

"Don't get too comfortable lying in the dirt," Nick points out, "I'm gonna put you back before Kim and Carmina get home."

John nods without complaint. He takes careful sips of water, like he's trying to mind how much he's taking, which is a fucking riot coming from the guy who did nothing but take, take, take for years.

"It's the nursery, isn't it?"

Nick stares down at the dirty bastard in confusion. "What?"

"The room," John repeats with a suspicious lack of irritation. "It was going to be the nursery."

Nick scowls. "Yeah," he says. "Not that it ever panned out."

John holds the canteen out for Nick to take back, which he does. "No," he admits, "It certainly did not."

"No thanks to you." Nick takes a thirsty swig of water. "None of you got a chance to raid our bunker, but there were a lot of other people who weren't so lucky. Lots of people didn't even have a house to hide in."

"Yes," John sighs, "I know."

The nerve John has to brush aside the damage he's done momentarily overwhelms Nick, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's chucking the canteen at John's head in a vicious game of dodge-ball that John just barely wins. "No, you don't know. You managed to find somewhere to survive for eight years, while good, honest people were left to rot away on the surface and suffer through nuclear winter because you burned down their houses, you stole their supplies, you ruined their lives! You destroyed everything before the police ever showed up! You sorry assholes kept talking about the Collapse while all of us were already living through it! Because of you ! You know ? Fuck you!"

Nick reaches his hand out to grab John, to — to strangle him, to shake him , anything to stop him from sitting there and staring cow-eyed up at him. Waiting for Nick to exact a physical price for all the anguish that he's caused, waiting for the inevitable retribution that he deserves.

But eight years is a long time to carry so much righteous anger. Nick must've set it down somewhere along the way; now that it's time to resume that bitter loathing, he finds himself coming up short. Honestly, he's too goddamn old for it. He's too tired. Eight years of fatherhood and living past the end of mankind has run the rage right out of him. The idea of expending that much effort just exhausts him. What would even be the point? John isn't even worth it.

"Just — get up," Nick sighs at last. "Kim'll be back in a while and I... don't want to look at you anymore."

John slumps into himself as he stands, shoulders caving in as he avoids looking higher than Nick's boots. He proceeds without complaint or comment up the stairs; despite that, Nick still braces himself for a surprise attack, his hand clinging to the holster. He stops at the doorway behind John, waiting for some trap to spring and feeling oddly put out when nothing happens.

"I'll bring you dinner later," Nick tells him. "From now on, you're only getting a second meal on days you work."

John nods in response, falling into his makeshift bed with as much grace as he had the dirt pile downstairs. Nick's not sure he's gonna be awake the next time he checks in, but that's probably for the best. Nick doesn't like watching the guy eat, and he hates having to interact with him.

When John fails to say anything, Nick uses his silence as an exit and quickly locks John away. He'll probably sleep until dinner, which means he'll spend all night muttering to himself again. That's just what Nick needs.

There's still time before Kim gets back with Carmina. Nick drags the dining table into the living room, taking a minute to marvel at the amount of dirt John managed to clear out. Maybe tomorrow, Kim can take Carmina on a hike or something so that he can have John do the rest of the room. Once the dirt's all cleared out, they'll be able to build proper doors for the back porch, instead of leaving it open to the elements and potential prison breaks. After that, who knows? Maybe they'll be able to string lights up in here like they did back at the Spread Eagle. They could actually find a use for the generator. Hurk was on the radio recently, boasting about party liquor and gasoline — maybe they could barter for fuel?

Thinking more than a year ahead is jumping the gun a little, especially considering they have to get through another winter without heat, but this is the first time Nick's let himself imagine that far. Kim is already prepping for next year, of course, but Nick's still a little stuck on bunker time, where everything felt like a tightrope walk to survive and keep sane. But now, well — there's floor space, and Nick's even stacked plates and silverware on the kitchen counter for dinner. It's progress that he can't miss, and for once he breathes a sigh of relief and actually feels relieved.

Kim and Carmina come back before dusk with three rabbits and, in Carmina's case, a turkey so big that it nearly drags on the ground as she carries it on her back. "Shot it herself," Kim tells him, dropping the rabbits on the table. She does it almost without a second thought, wrapping her arms around Nick before realizing, "Oh, the table's back!"

Nick grins. "Figured we could use the extra space. Look at you, kiddo!" Nick turns his attention to Carmina, who still has the turkey slung triumphantly over her shoulder. "That is one big bird."

"Yeah," she says, trying to look as casually confident as her mom. She can't help but brag, "It was coming right at us. I had to do something. "

"That's my girl," Nick says, "I need somebody to protect your mom whenever I'm not around."

"Hey," Kim protests, playfully shoving out of her supposedly loving husband's grasp, "I can protect myself, you two. Carmina, take that thing into the kitchen and start plucking."

Heaving a very exasperated sigh she must have lifted off of her dad, Carmina drags the limp poultry away. Kim watches her go with a satisfied smile, telling Nick, "She's got great eyesight. I didn't even notice it in the grass."

"Thank God. Can you imagine if she needed glasses out here? We would be royally screwed. So! What do you think?"

Kim looks back at the clear floor and the table with four legs on solid ground. "I admit, I'm impressed," she says. "I expected to come back to a funeral pyre. But look, you even got the support in!" She furrows her brows at him. "Did you have any trouble?"

"Nah. Actually, it was... uh, painfully easy. He didn't put up a fight or anything."

"Hmm."

Nick's not sure what Kim's thinking as she eyes the progress that's been made. Maybe she's wondering what John's endgame is, the same way Nick wonders. She's probably worrying about how to explain it to anyone who might ask about it — Grace, mostly, maybe Jerome, if he'd ever come out this way. Nick's sure he can just take credit and leave it at that, but maybe she's seeing some hidden angle that he hasn't caught on to yet?

"If we string some lights up in here," Kim points out thoughtfully, "We might actually be able to use the bottom floor, instead of camping outside all day."

"Hey," Nick laughs, "That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Am I supposed to pluck this whole thing myself ?" Carmina exclaims in horror from the kitchen.

"I'll be right there, honey," Nick calls, offering Kim a chair at the table. She takes it with a grateful smile, leaning into his hand as he briefly strokes her hair. "Not bad for a day's worth of work, huh?"

"Not bad," Kim agrees. Nick heads for the kitchen, unable to keep from humming some old-world song he can't remember the words to, happy to put aside his doubts about John for a couple of hours yet.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 5 years

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Ephemera Chapter Ten

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 5.8k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: IT’S GRAMMY DAY KIDS LET’S GET THIS BREAD!! Honestly, I thought the Grammys were yesterday so I’ve clearly only got 2 braincells left, but trust those 2 braincells are here to support BTS. Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter! I enjoyed writing it. Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

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Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

“So what am I doing again?” I asked Taehyung over the phone as I saw quietly in the taxi, my dress pooling around my feet.

It had taken what felt like years to get my makeup done, and still in the reflection of the cab driver’s GPS I looked slightly too plain to suit my dress. But in the reflection I caught the brief shimmer of my necklace and, with a grounding inhale, I swallowed and nodded my head once.

My nerves were making my hands sweaty and my knees bounce. Every bump in the street made my jump and, despite Taehyung’s gravelly voice lending comfort, my heart was still racing. I smoothed my free hand on my thigh, letting my fingers play with the beading.

Taehyung chuckled. “You’re just showing up.”

“That’s really it?”

“That’s it.”

I furrowed my brow and sighed. “Seems too easy.”

Taehyung’s voice went distant as he replied to someone I didn’t hear, saying, “Just a second,” before returning his attention to me. “Don’t worry. You just make sure Jungkook is in the ballroom for the speeches.”

“Hey, if you need to go then-,” I began, but he was quick to stop me.

“Nope. I’m talking to you right now,” he said, and the sternness in his voice made my heart thump a little faster. I stared at my painted fingers. “They can wait.”

I stiffened, bunching and releasing the fabric of my dress, adjusting the deep v-neckline so it didn’t reveal too much, fussing with the straps. “Sorry,” I said, chuckling as I finally managed to settle my fidgety body down. “Just…kinda weird for someone to be prioritizing me.”

Taehyung was quiet for a moment on the other end and I wondered if I’d said something uncomfortable. I wished in an instant that my social filter was better, that I could just stop myself from saying things like that with people I was comfortable with, that I could just say thank you and move on. But instead of changing the subject or clearing his throat, Taehyung simply sighed.

“Well, you deserve to be prioritized,” he said, then paused and coughed a little. “N-Not that I’m the one who should do it! And not, like, romantically or anything! Just, uh…you know, in general. Like…,” he trailed off before humming a little. “Anyway, I’ll see you soon?”

The cab pulled over on the curb outside the Exhibition Center and I sucked in my breath, nodding. “Sooner than you think,” I said, sliding my transit card and bowing my thanks to the driver before exiting the cab and standing, shivering, on the side of the road.

“You’re here?” asked Taehyung, a smile clear in his voice.

I nodded. “I gotta go. I think I see Jungkook by the entrance,” I said with a sigh, smoothing my hair down as the wind tried to ruin its styling.

Not awaiting his response, I ended the call and slid my phone into the main compartment of my clutch. I took a deep breath, letting the evening air cool my warm cheeks and stepping forward on the sidewalk. Jungkook stood by the entrance, and as I neared my heart stammered a little upon taking him in.

Dressed in a fine black suit that looked sat just right on his shoulders, his hair was pushed back from his forehead, revealing more of the perfect symmetry of his face. His lips were parted, white vapor escaping into the atmosphere with every silent exhale. He lifted his hands to cup around his mouth, breathing into them with eyes on the ground as his lashes swept across his cheeks. His legs looked long, his shoulders strong, his eyes sharp but somehow still warm. Standing outside the Exhibition Center windows, he seemed to glow from behind and as he gently guided his hands into his pockets I couldn’t help but admire him. Who knew how many opportunities I’d have to do this after tonight…

After all, after tonight there’s no telling what we’ll be…

My heels clicked against the cold concrete and I carefully practiced my smile before quietly approaching him, taking up the spot at his right side without his notice. Once he felt me standing nearby, he jumped and laughed, surprised, before taking a proper look at me.

There it was. That blush in his cheeks that I was getting used to. His doe eyes went rounder than usual as he stared at me, slack-jawed, and I watched him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, before he glanced away and coughed into the crook of his elbow.

“Hey,” I said, fishing around for my folded invitation in my clutch. “You clean up nice,” I teased with a smile.

He laughed, a sputtering, nervous sound, and nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Ah, thanks,” he said, eyes traveling the length of my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, barely exposed through the heels Taehyung had packed in the bottom of the package. “You look…”

I smiled and gave a little twirl, the train of my dress swirling around me. I spread my hands out as I stilled and offered a smile. “Like it?” I asked.

He nodded, lips parted, eyes focused on the trumpet skirt, the slightly sheer skirt revealing just a hint of my legs. “Yeah…,” he said, shaking his head. He returned his attention to my eyes and smiled, face red. “Beautiful.”

I inhaled sharply, mindful to keep a close eye on my feelings, and eyed him. Had he always been this affected by me? Somehow, this felt decidedly…new. “Should we head inside?” I asked, smiling as I jerked my head toward the big glass doors.

He smiled gently. “Mhm,” he said, offering his arm for me to hold.

I scanned him for a moment before, without a word, I saddled up beside him, so close my shoulder brushed his chest, and held fast to his forearm. I felt his muscles stiffen beneath my fingertips and hummed a little, watching my feet as we walked forward slowly, joining the stream of other guests as they presented their invitations to the security guards at the door.

“Honestly, baby,” said Jungkook softly in my ear, his lips close to my skin causing my heart to kick up. “You look incredible.”

I smoothed my hand over his forearm and smiled at the ground as we took our place in line. “Thank you,” I said.

He pouted beside me. “You’re not dressed like this for that Taehyung guy, are you?” he asked, craning his neck to meet my eyes.

I laughed and gently reached my pointer finger out to poke his cheek. “Don’t be so jealous,” I said, then smiled. “I’m dressed this way for me.”

“For you?” he asked, voice smaller now, shy.

I nodded, chuckling at my dress as I ran my free hand over the ornate bodice. “Is that strange?”

“No…I mean…kinda, I guess,” he said, then shook his head. “Not that I’m not for women’s empowerment! Viva la…uh, woman.”

I laughed and turned to him, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his burning hot cheek. “Cute,” I said. What had come over me? It was like that night in the club all over again. I sighed and watched the line move before us. “It’s not about empowerment or anything,” I said with a shrug. “I liked it, so I’m wearing it.”

Jungkook was quiet beside me and, worrying that I’d said something odd, I turned slightly to examine his expression. I found him red-faced, scanning me from above with something like awe glittering in his eyes. His brows were raised as he watched me like a hawk, studying me.

“What?” I asked, concerned. I held his forearm tighter.

He shook his head and his expression shifted from wonderment to a soft smile. “That’s hot,” he said.

I stiffened. Again with that word. I cleared my throat and fixed my hair, guiding it behind my ear before meeting the security guard with Jungkook in tow. The dapper security agent outstretched his hand to me with a smile, asking for my invitation. Gently, I handed it over.

“Ah, and your name?” he asked, peering down at his clipboard.

I smiled. “Y/N,” I said, watching him carefully as he scanned the names on his list. His brows furrowed and worry settled into my veins. “Is it not there?” I asked.

He hummed. “No, Miss. But I’m sure there’s just some mistake. Could you provide the name of the person who provided you this invitation?” he asked, cordial. But his smile had gone tight. Clearly, he was eager to be rid of me.

“It’s Kim Taehyung,” I said, an upward lilt to my voice as if even I wasn’t so sure.

As the man lifted his eyes to meet mine, there was an unsettling measure of distrust there. His smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but that’s impossible.”

I raised my brows. “It’s true,” I said, anger beginning to roil in my stomach.

“Mr. Kim has never invited anyone to any of the events he’s participated in,” said the guard with a thin smile and a nod. “If you’ll step to the side, we can sort this out once everyone is inside.”

All of this, for nothing? Was Taehyung playing some sort of trick on me?

I released Jungkook’s arm and crossed my own over my chest, cocking my head to the side. “Once nobody’s around to see you kick us out?” I asked, surprised by the strength in my own voice. Had I always spoken this way?

Jungkook stood close to me and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Maybe we should just-,”

But before he could finish, the guard was crossing his arms too, clipboard stiffly digging into his side. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step aside,” he said, no longer smiles and benevolence.

Here lied the difference between Jungkook’s crowd and high society, I supposed. At least the guards outside the club had been honest about their exclusivity.

“And I’m going to have to ask you to let me through. I’ve been personally invited,” I said, grabbing for the invitation he held captive in his clenched fist.

He yanked it away before I could as the people behind me in line grumbled and slowly moved toward the other doorman’s line. “I’ve worked every event Mr. Kim has attended and I can assure you that he doesn’t have guests.”

“Then what about my invitation?” I asked, pointing at it. “Forged?”

He sighed. “I’m not accusing you of forgery. I’m simply concerned with the security of our event.”

I rested a hand on my hip and scoffed. “Sure,” I said, eyeing the second doorman as he simply waved people through after only a brief flashing of their invitations. He never once consulted his list. I returned my eyes to him and cocked a brow. “Seems like you guys are very concerned.”

“Ma’am…,” said the man, rubbing his jaw with knitted brows. “We’re not discriminating against any of our guests-,”

“Just us then?” I asked, smiling tightly.

He inhaled sharply, glancing to the side like he was searching for someone to help him. Unfortunately, his associate was too busy waving guests inside. Women dripping in finery, men dressed in impeccable suits, known names that don’t even require a second glance at some arbitrary list.

“I…,” he began, then sighed and shook his head. “Please enjoy your evening,” he said, but the way he spoke made it sound like the words physically pained him.

I smiled and bowed my head, wrapping an arm around Jungkook’s as he stared down at me, mouth agape. Before we could enter, however, someone came barreling out into the entryway, spilling through the gaping mouth of the Exhibition Center to join the throngs of people. Breathlessly, he turned to me and his eyes went wide.

“Taehyung?” I asked, brows furrowed as he ran toward me panting. “Whoa, you okay?” I asked.

He nodded, settling his breathing as he greeted Jungkook with what could only be described as a forced grin. He turned his attention back to the guard, gaze imploring. “Sir, these people are my guests. I hope you haven’t given them a hard time.”

The guard’s demeanor saw a marked shift in tension, now standing horribly stiff with shoulders perfectly straight and aligned. He swallowed hard. “I-I was just letting them through,” he said.

Taehyung furrowed his brows. “Really?” he asked.

Gently, I reached out and touched Taehyung’s upper arm, causing him to jump just slightly. “It’s fine,” I said, eyeing the guard sidelong with a smirk. “We were just heading inside.”

The guard’s expression remained stiff as the three of us slipped past him inside. Jungkook took up my right flank as Taehyung guided us in through the entryway towards the grand ballroom. As he turned around to greet us properly, Taehyung’s eyes caught the gentle light from overhead and it was the first time I got a real glimpse of him. My cheeks reddened. He’d finally had a much-needed haircut, letting his honey-colored fringe sit just barely brushing his brow bone. He’d forgone the glasses for the night, his eyes bright and beautiful as they glittered. He was fitted in a suit that was almost too perfect, likely tailored just for him. When he lifted his foot to make sure he hadn’t picked up the black runner leading to the ballroom doors, I noticed the bottoms of his shoes were pure, blood red.

Was it just me, or did he look extremely important?

Jungkook placed a warm hand on the small of my back and I shivered against his touch, eventually leaning into his side as the three of us stood just before the grand ballroom’s open doors. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but the way Jungkook touched me felt…territorial.

He smiled and extended a hand toward Taehyung who accepted it readily. “It’s nice to meet you again,” said Jungkook.

“Likewise,” Taehyung replied with a smile before turning his attention to me. “God, I wish you wouldn’t have hung up before. I was planning on meeting you at the doors so I could get you in. You didn’t have any issues, did you?”

“Your security gave us a pretty hard time,” said Jungkook, examining a cuticle on his free hand before shrugging his shoulders and pulled me closer. “But Y/N handled it.”

Taehyung’s brows raised. “You did?” he asked, angling his body to allow a duo of well-dressed young women to pass, one of them knocking his hip with her bag.

For someone who was so revered by security, he was sure treated like a nobody by the other guests…

I lolled my head side to side, pondering it, before nodding. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Taehyung smiled just barely, the corners of his mouth pinching. “That’s a relief,” he said, almost impressed. “That’s my friend’s guard, so I’ve met him a few times. I knew security would be tight tonight, so I figured you’d need some help,” he said, then laughed. “Guess I was wrong.”

I hummed. “I think it’s the dress,” I said, touching it gently. “Feels like I’m someone different.”

“It looks amazing on you,” said Taehyung with a smile that touched his eyes.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Should we head inside?” he asked, forcing a smile as he guided me with a hand on my back past Taehyung and towards the ballroom.

“Ah! Sure. The speeches start in an hour,” he said as he jogged to catch up to us, taking up my right side. He eyed me from above, casting me a knowing glance. “Make sure you’re here for them.”

I nodded, trying to ignore that ever-present bead of guilt that was lodged right in the back of my throat. Whatever Taehyung had planned, it wasn’t going to be pretty for Jungkook. Whether he’d end up humiliated or incarcerated, I had no way of knowing. As we entered the sprawling, black-and-white ballroom, I took a beat to really absorb it all. High ceilings and gorgeous tiled floors, the room was very open and breezy, black catering tables lining the front alongside a large bar. Guests milled about in beautiful gowns, and a few congregated near the lifted black stage pushed back against the massive wall of windows. A few waiters bounded by with silver trays. Champagne flutes glowed golden atop them and, as a waiter flew by, I carefully grabbed one from the side and took a big enough sip to make me wince.

“Whoa,” said Jungkook from beside me, eyes round as he scanned me. “It’s not a race, baby.”

I shook my head and pried my eyes open, looking back at Taehyung with a clenched jaw, set brows. “We’ll be here,” I said with a nod.

“No, no, no! No, that’s where you’re wrong! Hogarth wasn’t a killjoy, he was a political commentator! It was satire,” I said, slurring just slightly as the multiple glasses of champagne caught up with me.

I leaned across the bar in the center of the ballroom, engaging in a heated debate with some rich old man with a loud voice and awful opinions. His cheeks were flushed like mine, likely just as drunk as I was, and he rested on one elbow, leaning toward me as he countered all my points with some drunken retort. Jungkook, sitting beside me on a white stool, simply watched everything unfold, nursing his whiskey with a sly grin. How out of character it was for me to be picking fights with strangers without even a drop of concern.

The man huffed and stiffened. “Hogarth hated fun!”

“He hated moral depravity!”

“Oh-oh, and now you’re gonna tell me Henry Fielding was a historian,” he said with a scoff.

“Tom Jones is literally a history!” I shouted back, slamming my palms on the pristine, white bar.

“It’s a fictional history and-,” began the man when a woman approached him from behind and smoothed a hand against his back with a soft smile. “Oh, Hayoon,” he exhaled, reclining his head backwards to rest on the woman’s abdomen.

She gave me a smile. “I hope my husband hasn’t caused you too much trouble,” she said with a laugh, fondly gazing at him from above. I felt Jungkook wrap an arm around my waist from behind. “He always gets horribly drunk at these events.”

I smiled and shook my head. “None at all,” I said, giving the man the side-eye.

He furrowed his brow and pointed at me. “You’re half my age, young lady!” he shouted, vaguely chastising.

His wife’s attention was temporarily assuaged and, using the opportunity, I met the man’s eyes and stuck out my tongue. Jungkook sputtered a laugh behind me. “Baby,” he whispered through chuckles.

The man sat up straight and waved his finger at me again. “Look! Look, Hayoon, look!” he said, whipping his head back and forth between me and his wife, Hayoon. The forthcoming woman turned chocolate eyes on me and raised her brows. By then, however, I’d returned to smiling. “She was just making faces at me!”

Hayoon covered her full lips with a hand as she giggled into her fingers, glancing away. “Gosh, Jaesun,” she said, laughing. “I haven’t seen you this riled up since Hwayoung came home.”

Now with his wife beside him, this man didn’t seem quite so pompous. I may have even been fooled into thinking they were normal folks, just like me. The man glanced at me out the corner of his eye before breaking into a grin, his previous ill-will vanishing into the air like water on pavement.

He laughed. “Ah,” he said, reaching out a hand for me to shake. “You’re a good girl, young lady.”

I stiffened, taking his hand with a tentative glance back at Jungkook. He met my eyes and raised his brows, still smiling, as if he was as confounded as I was. I returned my attention to the man, Jaesun, and smiled, shaking his hand twice before releasing it.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” asked Hayoon gently as her husband wrapped a big hand around her waist, pulling her close.

Somehow, I felt like Jungkook and I were a mirror of this couple.

The alcohol made guilt run hot through my veins.

“It’s Y/N,” I said, taking another sip of champagne. I slid the glass back onto the bar, but noted in my hazy brain that it was near the edge.

“Ah!” said Jaesun with a snap, pointing at me. I jumped slightly at his sudden movements, but quickly settled as I noticed him smiling. “Could you be that Y/N?”

I raised my brows. “That depends,” I said.

He laughed. “Ah, Hayoon you’re right. She’s like a little Hwayoung,” he said, smiling brightly. His smile was vaguely familiar.

Hayoon smiled, rubbing his shoulder with a soothing hand. “No wonder,” she said quietly, examining me.

I reached for my drink once more, but as I did I accidentally clipped the side of the glass flute, knocking it backwards off the lip of the bar. The glass went careening towards the polished tile floor, exploding into shards around Jungkook’s feet. I jumped off my barstool and turned to Jungkook with wide eyes. It seemed his smile was burned onto his face, the shock perhaps keeping it in place. My eyes fell to his ankles, left exposed by the hem of his pants from sitting. There, emerging in dots along his unblemished skin, blood.

“Oh my God!” I shouted, immediately falling to crouch in front of his injury.

He glanced down and finally seemed to notice the blood. “Whoa! Y/N, stand up. It’s not safe-,”

“Let me get you a bandaid,” I said, reaching for my clutch as it sat on the bar over my head. But my fingers were fumbling drunk along the surface, and if I continued I may knock another drink to the ground.

Jungkook quickly grabbed me by the upper arms and guided me back to my feet, laughing. “It’s not a big deal-,”

“No! Let’s get you fixed up. It might get infected and-,”

Smiling, Jungkook laced his fingers with mine. “It’s fine.”

I pouted and shook my head. “I’ve got bandaids in my bag,” I said, then glanced around me.

A few partygoers had noticed the commotion and turned piercing eyes on me. Stiffening, I held Jungkook’s hand tighter and grabbed my clutch, casting an apologetic smile over my shoulder at the couple as I led Jungkook toward the grand ballroom doors.

The two of us emerged in the entryway and, still crowded with people, I knew this place was no better than the ballroom. I dragged Jungkook behind me, marching straight into a quiet hallway leading outside. With a sigh, I fell to my knees.

“Wait! You’re gonna mess up your dress,” protested Jungkook, slender fingers seeking purchase on my shoulders which I wiggled away from his grasp.

“Stop fussing,” I ordered, lifting on hand to rest on his hip, hoping to keep him in place as I rifled through my clutch with the other. “Here,” I said, finally producing a bandaid and unwrapping it swiftly.

I pressed the adhesive to his skin and was extra careful around the wound. He hissed as the cotton pad made contact with his injury and gently I lifted my gaze to make sure he was okay. One eye was squeezed shut and the other was heavy-lidded, watching me.

“Hey,” he said with a laugh. “If anyone comes down this hallway, they’ll think something weird is going on.”

My body stiffened and I felt my cheeks go hot. Quickly, I stumbled back to my feet, meeting Jungkook’s warm eyes once I’d righted myself. “I just didn't want it to get infected,” I said, but my voice was small.

He hummed gently, the sound of music still seeping through the hall as he snaked his hands around my waist and stepped back against the wall. On instinct, I laced my fingers behind his neck and sighed, furrowing my brow at him. After everything, why did I still care so deeply about him? Even the way he blinked was beautiful to me, lashes long as they kissed the skin beneath his eyes.

Gently, I poked the freckle beneath his lip. “Hey,” I said. I sounded soberer now, and perhaps in a few ways I was. His eyes flashed up from my collarbone to meet mine. “Did you mean it?” I asked.

He raised one brow. “Mean what, baby?”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” I asked, eyes flashing between his brown irises and his rosy cheeks.

His brows knitted and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, no words coming for a few seconds. “I…Y/N, why would you ask that?” Again, it looked like he was…hurt by me.

And it dawned on me then in a moment of drunken epiphany.

What bothered me the most was that I had the capacity to hurt him at all. Like he’d hurt me…

“I…Jungkook, I know you haven’t been truthful with me,” I said softly, my fingers smoothing against the back of his neck, playing idly with his hair. I avoided his eyes. “I know you haven’t been with me because you wanted to.”

“What…?” he asked, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“I don’t want to ambush you,” I said, pain I didn’t know I had been harboring clear in my voice. “I just want an answer.”

He exhaled long and slow before taking my chin in his hand and forcing me to look him in the eye. “You’re right,” he said, scanning me. “I…I approached you with bad intentions. I was using you.”

I nodded. “I know,” I said.

He shut his eyes and rested his forehead against mine, skin hot like he was feverish. “But it’s different now. Everything…everything is different,” he said softly, breath tickling my cheeks. “I know it sounds cliche, but…it’s true.”

“When?” I asked, eyes still open and taking in his every feature. “When did it stop being a job?”

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and finally met my eyes with a sincerity that stunned me. “When you showed up for our study date with a coffee for me.”

I stiffened, eyes blown wide. “What?” I asked. “Th-that long?”

He nodded. “That was when I realized I was compromised.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he said, so close now I contemplated just tipping my chin forward, pressing my lips against his. How plush and pillowy they looked…

But wouldn’t that be cruel? To kiss him and then ruin him?

“So you meant it?” I asked.

He sighed, his head falling forward to rest in the crook of my neck. Thank God, my opportunity had passed. His lips were now safely brushing against my clavicle. “I wish I didn’t,” he said. “But I meant it.”

“Why tell me now?” I asked. I needed answers before I lost the chance to ask.

His hands pulled me closer by the hips and he exhaled against me. “Because I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

I nodded. “So it was serious to you. All along.”

“I didn’t want it to be…”

“Okay,” I said, slowly rubbing circles into his skin.

Before either of us could say something more, something we’d regret, a voice echoed over the PA system. “Attention valued guests, we request that you return to the grand ballroom for a few words from our esteemed speakers. We will begin in five minutes.”

Slowly, I pulled away from Jungkook’s chest and met his glassy eyes. Would he cry? After tonight, would I be the cause of his tears? Something stiff and heavy and icy cold settled in the pit of my stomach. Gently, I smoothed my hand against his cheek and gave him a smile.

“We should head back,” I said.

His shoulders bunched and he furrowed his brow. “Do we have to?” he asked, scanning me. “I…I could explain it all to you right now if you want. We could leave and-and go someplace. I could tell you everything.”

Temptation ached in my chest, beckoning me like a siren song. Was he telling the truth? Could we really leave this place where we didn’t belong, settle in, hold each other as he finally told me the truth? Could it be that simple?

Suddenly, my necklace felt like it was burning through my skin. I touched it with my index finger, my skin hot and my throat constricting with every second that passed. An eternity with every ticking second.

I took a deep breath, shutting my eyes, and took a single step back from Jungkook, letting my hands fall to my sides. “Let’s go back now,” I said, my voice thick, as I turned on my heel and bounded down the hall.

Jungkook caught up with me after a few paces and we’d silently entered the grand ballroom together. We’d spent the entirety of the first speech in silence, not even looking at one another. It felt as thought I’d rejected him. Like I’d acknowledged his honest, vulnerable appeals and cast them aside. And perhaps, in a way, I had. So I stood at his side, sobering up quickly as the speakers began droning on and on. Why Taehyung wanted me to bring Jungkook here was beyond me.

Jungkook leaned down and, with his breath warm in my ear, whispered, “I’m gonna use the restroom.”

I stiffened and turned, grabbing his arm and meeting him with wide eyes. “Right now?”

He furrowed his brow and scratched his neck. “Yeah?”

“Isn’t that…rude or something?” I asked, sweeping my gaze around the crowded, elegant room. All eyes were forward as a tech guru with a sizable online following gave a speech about the power of marketing and charity.

I let my tense eyes shift back to Jungkook, praying he wouldn’t feel my panic. “I…guess?” he said, confusion clear in his expression. He wasn’t convinced.

I exhaled, ready to continue standing by in silence, when the tech guru slowly exited the stage, bowing with a bright grin. As he stepped down the black stairs, someone passed by him. Likely the next speaker.

Quietly, I turned back to Jungkook. Perhaps half-truths were better here too. “Listen, I don’t know why, but we have to stay in here,” I said, meeting his eyes.

He cocked his head to the side, straining against my grip on his arm, and stepped closer. “What? Why?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Taehyung-,” I began, then shut my mouth. I wasn’t sure if implicating Taehyung was the right move. Surely, Jungkook would put two and two together once this ‘plan’ came to fruition. After all, it was Taehyung who had gotten us in.

But still…I couldn’t outright betray him.

“Taehyung?” he asked, glancing over my shoulder with bewilderment in his warm eyes.

I shook my head. “No, forget it. Go pee if you have to,” I said, releasing his arm with a defeated sigh.

“No,” he said, jerking his chin toward the stage behind me. “Up there.”

My heart kicked up and, without wasting a single second, I whipped around to find Taehyung approaching the microphone to uncertain applause. I heard mumblings about the room, asking who he was, hazarding guesses to his title, making idle conversation. I swallowed hard and watched with nerves alight as he adjusted the height of the mic stand to suit him. With a charming smile, he bowed to the crowd.

“What the hell…?” I wondered aloud as Jungkook took up my side again, clearly as stunned as I was.

“Did you know about this?” asked Jungkook, eyes locked on Taehyung with parted lips, awestruck.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “He didn’t say anything about giving a speech.”

The two of us stood slack-jawed as Taehyung cleared his throat and the room descended into utter silence. I could hear my heart hammering in my chest, my pulse like rushing water in my ears. What exactly did he have planned?

“Hello,” he said, a simple greeting that echoed endlessly in the massive room, bouncing off the faulted ceilings. “My name is Kim Taehyung.”

Jungkook hummed. “He looks kinda cool,” he said with a chuckle.

I blinked, trying to sift through my thoughts. Jitters made my hands shake, my clutch banging against my thigh. “Uh-huh.”

Taehyung smiled once more at the crowd. “Pardon me if I seem a bit awkward up here,” he said, adjusting his lapel. “I’m not very keen on public speaking. Or…well, public in general.”

This elicited a round of laughter, the guests good-natured as they nursed their drinks or chewed on party snacks. “Wonder why they let him speak,” said Jungkook quietly.

Taehyung inhaled audibly, seeming to center himself with a breath, and lifted his eyes to lock on something in the crowd, probably a single tile on the floor or a panel on the front of the bar. “But tonight is a very momentous occasion. Ori Technologies has done what no tech company has been able to do in decades. They’ve disrupted a long-standing monopoly. And, while this accomplishment is commendable, it certainly paints a large target on the backs of the men and women who dedicated their lives to this company.”

I furrowed my brow. “This is weird,” I mused aloud and Jungkook nodded in agreement. “What kind of speech is this?”

Taehyung scanned the crowd before latching on to something different, and the way his expression shifted made a shiver crawl up my spine. I glanced toward Jungkook, ready to make another comment, but I noticed that his expression had gone darker now too. Was…was Taehyung looking at Jungkook?

“I’m…moved by the courage those spearheading this company have shown, and I’d like to use this opportunity to show some courage, myself,” he said. With a smile that looked a little sinister, Taehyung tightened his tie just slightly. “And so, I’m making my first ever public appearance.”

“What’s he talking about?” asked Jungkook, body hard, muscles tensed as if he were about to fight, eyes steadfast on Taehyung.

I shook my head. “I-I have no idea,” I said, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Taehyung cleared his throat and gave a deep bow from the waist, eyes shut for a moment. Murmurs emerged around the crowd, all waiting with bated breath for whatever this speech would bring. Slowly, Taehyung stood upright once more and fussed with his cufflink before lacing his fingers before him with a smile.

“My name is Kim Taehyung,” he repeated, eyes flashing around the room before settling once more on Jungkook. “Although you all may know me better as Vante.”

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simplerthingslikewatchinglt · 5 years

Text

Chapter Thirteen

Larry's P.O.V

I decided to go see my bro, Laurent since he had texted me about an hour ago but I was too busy with Adelia. She wanted more 'us' time which didn't seem to make sense - we did that enough. Leaving Adelia in my room after putting her to bed - I was alone when I arrived at Laurent's hotel room door having a spare key card, I invited myself in. I figured why not do so being that he was single and hardly had any guests other than me . Before fully opening the door I could hear my brothers voice speak the words "uh oh" and then there they were. More like there she was, Kiera, sitting on the bed looking a mess while Laurent stood only a few feet away from the bed with his phone in his hand. I walked further into the room closing the door behind me, there was a weird silence in the room before Laurent finally decided to speak first - " Larry, my bro play UNO with us" . I was confused and only wanted to speak to Laurent in French not wanting Kiera to know what I say, so that's what I did .

"Laurent pourquoi est-elle ici? ( Laurent why is she here ? )" I questioned, my face must've read irritated because Laurent smirked and then proceeded to answer my question using English. " She's here because I want her here baby bro" he kept his smirked planted on his face knowing how much he got under my skin when he did not speak French back to me . I continued in French anyway , " ça ressemble à im jouer frère? maintenant dis-moi" ( Do it look like I'm playing brother ? Now tell me ) I demanded from Laurent, curious as to why she was in his room . " Chill out bro... UNO we play, nothing happen. I call room service - they come soon" he smiled brightly at me while throwing his hands in the air trying to play innoncent like a child but he was just as grown as I was. Shortly after another pause into silence there was a knock at the door, my guess was room service and sure enough it was . I let my eyes follow my brother as he walked towards the front door opening it slightly before throwing the door fully open. I broke my stare from Laurent to Kiera who sat in silence, I wondered what went through her mind as she watched my brother and I argument . She probably felt awkward; her eyes were focused on the carpeted floor as if in a trance she just stared at the floor . I took this into an advantage letting my vision roam freely, I scanned down her body. In overall view from head to toe she was no Adelia for sure, Kiera didn't give me that sex appeal like Adelia did . Slowly my eyes roamed down her cute plain face to her torso where I noticed something just above her collarbone, right on her neck. I thought my vision was playing tricks on me so I decided to walk a bit closer to the bed, taking a seat on the night stand , I stared at her some more before my mess of a brother came throwing his arm around my neck. " Elle est bizarre, n'est-ce pas?" (She's a weird one isn't she?) , he had finally spoken in our mothers tongue knowing I wouldn't respond back , it was like night and day with us sometimes. What ever that was on Kiera neck irritated me for a reason I couldn't explain. Maybe it was the fact I was too over protective of my brother and didn't want him messing around with these American girls or maybe it was Kiera herself, she seemed so distant from this world and so innnoncent that I didn't want my brother using her with his player ways .

For a few seconds it was like everybody had been frozen in time, Kiera sat on Laurent's bed staring into space , I sat on the nightstand staring at her and Laurent had his arm around my neck leaning on me until I broke this frozen moment and spoke " et le suçon sur son cou?" ( And the hickey on her neck?) I directed my question to Laurent, finally breaking my stare down at Kiera looking at him in his eyes. "It's just a game bro. Right Kiki?" Kiera looked up at us and I was able to see the hickey more clearly now.

"Yeah we were playing UNO, Laurent wanted to add in a few rules" she spoke , her voice a sounding a bit nervous . "Why you sound like that ?" I questioned her and for a split second she looked confused before she finally realized what I meant . " It's nothing." She answered, "Larry stop asking my girlfriend so many questions" Girlfriend ? - Laurent released his hold from around me and walked towards Kiera, hovering over her. He opened his mouth to speak " did you open up your gift once you got home ?"

"My gift ?"

" Yes the Victoria secret bag"

Kiera took a glance at me then back to Laurent , looking up at him as he hovered over her still. She must've realized what he was talking about when she shook her head 'no' to my brother.

"Is okay Kiki , open it when you get home okay?" He said with a genuine smile .

"Okay Laurent ..." Kiera half heartedly smiles back at him, the two of them leaving me out of the loop . What gift ? I wondered, but not for too long when he kneels down at her, "Laurent, what you doing bro ?" I was uneasy with him kneeling in front of her, he ignored me while I watched. " Kiki, can I ask you something ?" He was eye level with her, staring straight into her eyes while Kiera looked flustered a bit. " Okay" was her response , so he continued , " Will you be my" I had to cut him off short of asking her to be his girlfriend forreal . " Laurent!" I shouted , which forced his head to turn in my direction, our eyes meeting. " Bro is to be our friend...." friend? " huh ?" I was confuse, and maybe so was Kiera.

" Yes we don't know that many people in NYC so why not be our friend Kiki ?"

Laurent was anxious, he wanted this girl to be wrapped around his finger, he wanted this girl to himself in a way . Claiming her ever since that day and dragging it out for this long but I was the one that had her phone, the one that helped her off the floor when she fall. I can't help this feeling that Laurent and me are mentally battling for her and he's winning . I don't care for her but Laurent should respect my credit, if it wasn't for me she wpuld not be with us and he would not be so interested in her . I was beginning to get wrapped in my own thoughts, thinking why did Laurent have such a great interest in her ? Why was she so interesting to him ? I had to admit at first she was interesting to me in the beginning but there was nothing in her phone to see. So I left it like that.

My attention was brought back to the two of them, Laurent still on his knees and Kiera with this awkward ass silence coming from her . The silence from her was killing me even though I didn't show it on my face being a blank expression, I also didn't care what her answer would be.

"Okay..." I wasn't shocked by her answer, I could care less , she wasn't my friend she was now Laurent's "plaything" . We were starting to blow and become famous, we didn't need friends, our "friends" back home were there and they were even starting to drift from us . I took notice of Kiera's shyness and awkwardness , " Okay good, your our friend so as a friend I have to tell you quit smoking cigarettes Kiki" Laurent chuckled before continuing, " the cheap perfume can't hide the smell"

"Laurent !" I needed to check him in place, even though he was right about the smell but she was still a woman and that was too rude.

"What bro ? She's our friend ..."

"You friend.." I corrected him.

" noooo, we can share juste pas au lit (just not in bed) he quickly switched from English to French on me . I realized what he meant and it was funny in our younger days we did that a lot.

" you mean anymore..." I chuckled this time. Laurent quickly rolled his eyes at me, " Larry, she's not like that" . What Laurent said caught her attention quick.

"Huh ? ... like what ?" She questioned, her confusion was plastered all over her face. Laurent pinched the bridge of his nose then sighed out of irritation because of me which made me laugh a little, finally getting under his skin . He rolled his eyes once more before taking Kiera hands into his own, he sighed again as if he really didn't want to answer her question but he spoke anyway .

"Ever had a threesome Kiki ?"

Authors notes:

OKAYYYYY and imma stop here! One cause I'm tired. Got work in the am guys . Tell me if you want this to be a Larry fix, Laurent fix, or Twins fic. I can't decide right now . Leave some comments for me . I'm trying with the action guys sorry if your bored ! I'll continue to write though! <3 bye!

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veeeffvee · 5 years

Text

COLOR-TV (a Ghost and Pals fanfiction), Chapter 1

Word count: 4195

Summary: (Crackfic) AU where Kennith actually has his own television show! A variety show, as a matter of fact, where anyone and everyone can be a part of C-O-L-O-R!

A/N: Okay so... this was written on a whim, honestly. I didn’t plan this at all, the idea just popped into my head like three days ago and I just decided to write it. And somehow I finished it? Which is weird. Anyway, please keep in mind that I didn’t do any in-depth character analysis of Kennith or his guest star for the show. And I’m probably not going to for future “episodes,” either. So please don’t judge this too harshly, haha. With that in mind, I hope you enjoy the show!

One minute until showtime.

Kennith noted this as he took another glance at the wall clock next to him. He should probably get ready for his entrance. Heaving a sigh to steady himself, he got up from his folding chair and went over to the large red curtain that lead to the stage outside.

From behind the curtain, Kennith could hear the various murmurings of the audience. They were probably talking about what the show was going to be about. Of course they would be wondering of what's to come; they were sitting in the dark and could barely see the stage. And this was also the pilot episode, so...

Kennith took another breath, held it, and then sighed again.

No pressure!

Absolutely no pressure!

Kennith was about to sneak a peek from the side of the curtain when his theme song began playing on the speakers outside: his cue to begin. Well, that settles it. He was actually doing this. And he was going to be great! And his show was going to be amazing!

He put a hand on the curtain and steeled himself. Before any doubts could arise in his mind, he ran through the curtain and onto the stage.

It's showtime.

████████████████████████████████████████████████

From the darkened studio set, stage lights suddenly flicked on to reveal the stage: a floor that was rounded into the shape of an oval, jutting out towards the audience. At the middle of the stage a leather chair sat next to a sturdy wooden table that had five small TVs piled onto it; the chair and table angled as to face each other and the audience. On the far wall behind this setup was an array of screens that were currently powered off. Above the screens there was a neon sign reading "COLOR-TV" in multicolored letters, and two signs reading "APPLAUSE" to the left and right of it. The signs were flickering in time to the music that was playing. To the right of the stage, there was an elevated platform that held up a rounded wall, blank and unassuming for the moment.

And of course, at the front and center of the stage, Kennith stood with his arms spread out and poised; a microphone in his right hand, and his left hand open with his palm facing up. The audience cheered as he appeared, and they clapped along to the music that bleared through the stage's speakers.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to COLOR-TV!" Kennith announced, signaling with one hand for the music to fade out. As it did, the audience also quieted down. "I'm your host, Kennith Simmons! And today, I'm proud to debut our first ever episode of COLOR-TV. Give yourselves a round of applause for joining me on this journey!" he said, and the audience responded in kind with cheering.

Kennith patiently waited for the audience to stop with a smile. Once they were done, he spoke up. "Now, I thought I'd explain what my show is about," he began, fiddling with the wire of the microphone. "Well, I'm thinking that it's going to be a variety show, so basically, I'm open to experimenting! And I hope I can get feedback from you, my lovely audience, on what you all enjoy!"

The audience began clapping again, because that's just what audiences do, as Kennith hurried over to the pile of TVs and climbed them in order to sit at the top. After making himself as comfortable as possible, he gestured with one hand to the curtain at the far left of the stage. "So, let's get this show started with my special guest! A good friend of mine and a potential new friend to you all: let's welcome People-Pleaser!"

A different song began playing from the speakers as a girl emerged from the curtains and ran onto the stage. The girl had short white hair with a streak of black through it, and wore gray shorts with white suspenders, a black t-shirt that was tucked into her shorts, black high-heels with garter belts and matching black stockings.

The girl grinned as she ran to the front of the stage and waved at the cheering audience, and she drank in all of the attention for a moment before going over to the chair opposite Kennith and took a seat. "Glad to be on the show, Kennith!" she chirped as the music died down.

"Ah, that's my line," Kennith chided jokingly. "But anyway, we're all pleased to have you, People-Pleaser!" he said, and the audience applauded as if to emphasize what he said.

"Oh no, call me Obsequious," the girl offered, and the audience chuckled at the joke. "It's much easier. And it sounds nicer! Wouldn't you all agree?" Obsequious waved one hand towards the audience, and the crowd made various sounds of agreement.

Kennith blinked once in confusion, but continued anyway. "You seem much more excited for the show than you were backstage, Obsequious. I'm surprised! I was starting to think that maybe you weren't cut out for this," he commented.

"Oh, yeah, I was nervous!" Obsequious agreed. "Super, super nervous! But then I thought about the lovely audience that awaited me behind the curtain, and after a couple of breaths I just—" she shrugged with her arms bent at her sides, "—suddenly had the courage to perform! And I don't feel scared at all!" she said with a wide smile.

While the audience applauded Obsequious' courage, Kennith just stared at her. "That's... oddly specific."

"What do you mean?"

"Just..." Kennith started, before he thought better of it and stopped. "Never mind. Let's just get on with the show," he said, trying to keep a cheerful tone. He reached behind the TVs and grabbed a blue remote.

"Ooh, finally!" Obsequious was practically vibrating in her seat. She looked out into the crowd. "Are you all excited?" she called out, and the audience responded in cheers as usual.

Kennith frowned, but said nothing of it. Instead, he pressed a button on the remote.

The elevated platform on the right of the stage began to turn, and the rounded wall turned along with it to reveal what was an approximation of a kitchen on the miniature stage. Complete with multiple counters, a stove, oven, sink, and other appliances, it was essentially a fully furnished kitchen for a tiny house.

"So, I know that you like desserts, Obsequious," Kennith began. "Isn't that right?"

"Of course! I mean, who doesn't, right?" Obsequious answered, looking pointedly at the audience. There was a pause, and then the audience gave a quieter-than-normal cheer.

Kennith followed her gaze for a moment before looking back at her. "...Right. Well, I thought that since you love desserts so much, this episode's gonna be—"

"—a cooking episode!" Obsequious interrupted. "No, wait, I mean it's a baking episode!" she announced, still looking at the crowd. "Yeah, we're gonna go bake a bunch of goodies! That sounds fun, doesn't it?" she spoke to the audience, waiting for approval.

The audience gave a few uncertain murmurs, and heads turned as they all looked at each other nervously. Then they fell into an awkward silence.

Kennith had enough. "Obsequious, look at me."

She did so, still wearing a bright smile. "Yes?"

"Are you trying to act like me?"

"...Yes."

"Why."

"Well, it's what everyone likes, isn't it?" She gestured towards the audience. "Everyone so far has been cheering you on, so I just thought that if I was acting like you, people would enjoy it! Is it working?"

Kennith stared at her. Obsequious stared back. "What?" she asked, oblivious.

"Nothing. Please just... be yourself from now on," Kennith said with a pleading smile.

Obsequious blinked twice at the very suggestion, as if she was struggling to process it. "Be... myself?" she echoed. "What do you—"

"Anyway! Let's actually start the show for real now, okay?" Kennith hurriedly spoke over her.

A small clip of Kennith's theme played as Kennith hopped off of the TVs and headed over to the elevated platform. Obsequious stayed in her seat for a second longer, thinking, before finally deciding to follow him. By the time she arrived, Kennith was wearing a chef hat and apron and standing behind a counter facing the audience.

"Welcome to our new segment, 'Cooking with Kennith!' I'm your host, Kennith Simmons!" he declared, earning a few cheers from the audience. "Joining me today is Obsequious, whom I think I can consider a connoisseur of all things sweet?" He looked to Obsequious for confirmation.

"Huh?" Obsequious said, seeming to snap out of a trance. "Oh, oh yeah, I love desserts! Probably more than anything!" she responded, playing along.

"Well, I think you'll be happy to hear what we're doing today," Kennith said, taking out a mixing bowl from the cabinet below him. "Today, we're baking a cake! Specifically, chocolate cake!"

Obsequious' eyes lit up. "Oh, that's actually my favorite!"

“I know!” Kennith tried to match her enthusiasm from earlier as he brought out the rest of the materials and ingredients. “And to make this even more fun, we’re going to make this cake in fifteen minutes!”

Obsequious’ smile faltered. “Wait, what?”

“Thaaat’s right! We’re going to make the batter, frosting, and bake the whole cake in fifteen minutes!” Kennith declared, not appearing to be worried at all about what he was saying.

“Wait a minute, Kennith—”

“Aaand if we don’t finish on time, we’re going to eat whatever we’ve made, whether it’s done or not!”

“Kennith I don’t know how to bake hold on—”

“I don’t either!” Kennith finally acknowledged Obsequious as he looked at her. Obsequious flinched; his eyes were manic. “I’ve never baked anything in my life! But that’s the fun of it all!”

The crowd gave its approval, and Obsequious suddenly felt unsure of herself. “You told me that I was going to taste test some desserts, not bake a cake,” she weakly protested.

“Oh, did I?” Kennith asked, feigning innocence. “Well, you’re basically taste testing. After we make the cake, that is,” he said, as if that was a reasonable explanation.

“But—”

“Okay, timer’s set!” Kennith waved towards the array of screens at the far wall at the middle of the stage, which now displayed a countdown reading ‘15:00:00’ in red font. “Ready?”

“Wait—”

“Set…”

“Please—”

“Go!” Kennith jumped into action, ripping open a bag of flour with wild abandon and pouring a random amount of flour into a bowl. “Obsequious, there’s a recipe on the counter behind us, go grab it!” he commanded.

“Uhhh—” Obsequious said dumbly, rushing to said counter, where she found a piece of laminated paper. “Why didn’t you wait for me to get the recipe before you—”

“Fifteen minutes, just read it!”

"Okay, okay!" Obsequious finally relented. Her eyes nervously skimmed the recipe, looking for anything to do with mixing the ingredients. "Umm, it says that you're supposed to put all of the dry ingredients into one bowl..."

"Got it!" Kennith responded by pouring a sickening amount of sugar and cocoa powder into the bowl, causing a puff of the mixture to fly up into his face. He doubled over and grabbed the counter with one hand as he hacked and coughed.

Obsequious was growing increasingly distraught. "Kennith, are you alright?!"

"I'm fine," Kennith wheezed, clearly not fine, "Just keep reading!"

"Oh, well, wait—" Obsequious looked over the paper again. "We were supposed to preheat the oven, put some things onto the baking pans, and mix the wet ingredients. And also, you aren't measuring any of the ingredients?? Which you really should be—"

"Fifteen minutes, Obsequious!" Kennith repeated, somehow gathering the strength to add baking soda, baking powder, and salt into the bowl. "Skip the preheating thing and just do the wet ingredients!"

Obsequious gulped. Just thinking about what the cake was going to be like already made her nauseous. She headed over to Kennith's counter, where another bowl was sitting, and began adding a couple of eggs into it. She even took the time to separate the eggs.

Kennith watched her from the corner of his eye as he mixed his own bowl. Obsequious gingerly poured buttermilk, water, vanilla, and vegetable oil into her bowl. She wasn't measuring anything either, but she was notably more gentle than Kennith was.

His gaze then flew over to the countdown. Ten minutes.

They didn't have time for this. "What don't you get by 'fifteen minutes?!' Give me that!" Kennith yelled, snatching the barely-mixed bowl from Obsequious. He then poured her ingredients into his bowl, causing Obsequious to cry out in alarm.

"Why did you do that?!"

"Doesn't it say that the ingredients are supposed to be combined anyway?!"

"Yeah, but that's after both types of ingredients are mixed separately!"

"Whatever! They're getting mixed right now!" Kennith demonstrated this by stirring harder. "Go do whatever you're supposed to do to the baking pans!"

"Why are we yelling?!"

"I don't know!"

"AAAAAHH!"

"AAAAAAHH!!!"

After that meaningful exchange, Obsequious did as she was told and brought out two large round baking pans. She then grabbed a stick of butter and began meticulously greasing the insides of the—

"Obsequious, if you don't hurry up, then so help me—"

—okay, she began hurriedly greasing the insides of each pan, nearly snapping the stick of butter in half in the process. Grabbing a handful of cocoa powder, she quickly dusted the pans in uneven layers of coating, before moving on and lining each pan with probably-correct measurements of parchment.

Obsequious then looked over at Kennith for approval. "Was that fast enough?"

"Plenty. Now move!" Kennith half-shoved Obsequious out of the way so that he could pour the kinda-chunky batter into the pans. Some of the batter missed the mark and dripped onto the counter, but most of it made it into the baking pans. "Okay, now go turn the oven on."

Why now? They were supposed to preheat the oven before everything else, but...

"Okay." Obsequious gave up on trying to argue. She went over to the oven and hesitated. "Wait... this isn't an oven," she observed, noticing the unfamiliar design.

"No, it is," Kennith said, his smile coming back. "It's a specially-made oven invented by yours truly!" he proudly declared. "Basically, we can bake this cake in five minutes."

"Oh... wow."

"Yeah. Now are you going to stand there, or are you going to press the 'on' button?"

"Oh, uh, right," Obsequious said before pushing said button. Uncharacteristic of a typical oven, it began humming as it was powered on.

Kennith hastily put on safety goggles and mittens, and after picking up both pans, he went over to the oven and put them both on the stove. "Might wanna stand back a little. The temperature is nearly nuclear in there," he warned.

Obsequious obediently took a couple of steps back as Kennith opened the door of the oven. Immediately, a wave of intense heat flew out, startling both of them as well as the audience. Kennith quickly threw both pans into the oven and closed the door. Fortunately, the temperature of the studio evened out afterwards.

"Alright! And now we work on the frosting," Kennith ordered. He glanced towards the timer. "Eight minutes. That leaves us with three minutes to decorate the cake," he said as he walked to the counter again.

Obsequious followed him. "Do we have to rush this one too?" she asked tentatively.

"Nah, not really. If I remember correctly, it's just two ingredients. We even have time to measure them out."

"Oh, thank god."

Making the frosting was indeed, much easier. With Kennith reading the instructions this time, Obsequious measured and stirred correct amounts of whip cream and powdered sugar into a small bowl. Then the bowl was placed into the fridge to cool.

Obsequious breathed a sigh and looked at the timer. "Five minutes. We have two more minutes until the cake is done," she noted.

"Yep! And now we wait," Kennith said, jumping onto the counter behind him and sitting down on it. Seeing this, Obsequious opted to just lean on the counter opposite him. Because his was covered in flour, batter, and whatever else. Kennith didn't seem to care.

The studio was silent. There were a few mutterings within the audience, but not much else. Kennith absentmindedly kicked his legs from where he sat, and Obsequious drummed her fingers on the counter.

The silence was getting a little suffocating. Kennith spoke up, "Boy, we sure made a mess, huh?"

"Yeah, I don't understand why you didn't tell me to wear something else before coming on set," Obsequious played along, dusting off some flour that was on her black shirt. "This is my favorite outfit..."

Kennith laughed. "Well, I'm wearing one of my favorite outfits."

"Hm..." Obsequious hummed, before she noticed something. "Wait, but you're wearing an apron! Why didn't I get an apron?!"

"Uh, 'cause I'm the host?"

"That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair."

"Well—!" Without stopping to think about it, Obsequious reached into the bag of flour beside her, took a handful of flour, and threw it at Kennith.

Kennith tried to dodge, but inevitably got covered in the dust. "Hey!" he exclaimed, looking for something to throw back. He saw the egg carton, and quickly flipped it open, grabbed a couple of eggs, and lobbed them at Obsequious.

Obsequious squeaked as the eggs hit her. "Dude, at least I used powder!"

"Serves you right! Hahaha—ow!" Kennith's laugh was cut off as a stick of butter hit him square on the head. Despite his new headache, he grinned. "Alright, now it’s on—"

Kennith was about to reach for an entire bottle of vegetable oil when a ding resounded throughout the studio. The two of them looked at the oven.

Obsequious blinked, pulling her hand back from the gallon of buttermilk. "Oh. Cake's done."

"Yep!" Kennith was already putting on his mittens. "Obsequious, go get the frosting while I get it out of the oven. Oh, and there's also a tub of icing in there, and a bag of cherries; get those too."

"Alright!"

Obsequious did as she was told and retrieved the frosting and icing from the fridge. Kennith, meanwhile, took the two pans out of the oven and placed them on the counter.

"Technically, we're supposed to let these cool off, but we've only got three minutes left," Kennith then handed Obsequious a mitten and a plastic knife. "Sooo, let's try to cut these out of the pans as fast as possible."

"Okay!" Obsequious beamed. She was glad that Kennith wasn't frantic anymore. It probably helped that she stopped arguing with him. Maybe she should have done that the whole time.

The two of them stuck their knives into their respective pans, and just as soon as they cut around the edges, they attempted to pry the cakes off of the hot metal. Surprisingly, the cakes came out in mostly one piece. They then laid each section of the cake onto separate plates.

"Now, you go decorate your cake with the frosting and cherries or whatever, and I'll put chocolate icing on mine," Kennith instructed. "After that, try to put your cake on top of mine. Then we'll be done!"

"Yay!" Obsequious reached for a plastic bag to put frosting in. "I can't wait to try this!" she lied. Clearly, being more agreeable kept Kennith from rushing her, so she had decided to do just that.

Kennith scoffed. "What, really?"

"Yeah! I'll eat just about anything, honestly," Obsequious said. That much was true. "Plus, I'm kinda hungry anyway."

Obsequious began scooping frosting into the plastic bag. Then she cut a corner of the bag off before attaching a nozzle to the end of it. While Kennith was preoccupied with layering icing onto the top of his cake with a knife, she slowly and carefully frosted the cake. There was a minute left on the timer once both cakes were completed; Kennith's having a copious amount of chocolate icing, and Obsequious' having delicate dollops of frosting with cherries on top.

"And now for the finishing touch. Obsequious, will you do the honors?" Kennith asked, gesturing with grandeur towards his own cake.

"Why, of course," Obsequious answered with a mock-fancy tone.

As soon as Obsequious lifted her cake and brought it over to Kennith's, the weight of the cherries and frosting caused the middle of her cake to collapse. It fell on top of Kennith's in wet, soggy clumps, causing cherries to scatter across the countertop. The weight of the impact from her cake's fall caused the middle of Kennith's cake to cave in as well. The crowd gasped. The timer went off with one loud beep.

Obsequious stared at the sight with wide open eyes and a slightly ajar mouth, two handfuls from the edges of her cake still in her hands. She didn't blink.

There was a long pause. Someone in the audience coughed.

"...Well!" Kennith said after a while, clapping his hands once. "It doesn't... look that bad! I mean, this is the first time that either of us have ever baked a cake, so—"

"Kennith."

"Yes?"

"Kennith this isn't a cake."

"No, well I mean, it's—"

"Kennith this is a pile of uncooked batter and frosting."

"I guess technically it is, but—"

"Kennith I thought you said that the cake would bake in five minutes."

"Well I mean, again," Kennith ran a hand through his hair nervously, accidentally getting icing in his hair, "I haven't baked anything before, remember? So I couldn't have known this would happen."

Obsequious finally let go of the cake pieces that she was holding, letting them fall on top of the mess below. Her hands fell to her sides, defeated. "We're going to eat this." She stated the obvious, as if she was in disbelief of those very words.

"Well, don't knock it till you try it, right?" Kennith tried his best to smile. It came out as a grimace. "And hey, I worked on this cake too, so don't be so hard on yourself."

There was another moment of still silence, and then Obsequious sighed. She put on a empty smile. "Okay, let's try it!" she declared, her voice betraying her expression.

"That's the spirit!" Kennith affirmed, even though he wasn't looking forward to this either. A pause followed as they both hesitated. Then Kennith reached into a drawer and pulled out two spoons. "I guess we're using spoons since it's—"

"Yeah."

"I mean with the texture and the—"

"Uh huh."

"It kinda looks like pudding if you squint, so—"

"Yep."

"Okay, yeah, cool," Kennith eventually gave up. He knew he was stalling. Not wanting to waste another minute, he stuck his spoon into the mess of cake and icing, and lifted the spoon to his mouth. He indicated with an nod of his head that Obsequious should do the same. With much more reluctance, Obsequious copied his actions, and together they ate their respective spoonfuls.

He didn't even think that it was possible, but somehow Kennith's face became paler. The cake was burnt on the outside so that it was crunchy and bitter, yet the inside was uncooked, so the majority of it was chunky batter and unmelted sugar. And there was a lot of sugar. He had also unknowingly eaten a cherry, but the stem was still on it, and these cherries still had pits in them, so every once in a while he would chew on a piece of the stem or bite onto the pit.

Kennith looked over at Obsequious, who appeared to not be faring very well either. "How is it?" he asked, mouth still full of cake. He didn't dare to swallow.

"It's..." she began, her mouth also full of cake. As if in a late reaction, Obsequious' face scrunched up in disgust. This caused a few audience members to laugh. "...An acquired taste. Yeah, it's... not that bad." She echoed Kennith's earlier statement, since he made the cake alongside her and didn't want to risk hurting his feelings. "I've had worse."

Kennith was surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, I've actually—" Obsequious paused to swallow.

That was a mistake.

Immediately, Obsequious retched, and covering her mouth with one hand she ran from the kitchen onto the stage, and quickly left the set through the curtain on the left; presumably to go to the bathroom. The audience collectively went 'oooh' at this.

Kennith watched her leave before relenting to swallow his own mouthful. He then turned to address the audience, tears welling in his eyes. "Well, that's all the time that we have for today!" he announced, putting on a smile despite what felt like the beginnings of indigestion. "We hope that you have all enjoyed the show!"

Kennith's theme began to play once again on the speakers, and the audience started up again with the cheering. "My name is Kennith Simmons, and this has been COLOR-TV! Join us next time, and remember: I've always been here—!"

His outro was cut off as his stomach grumbled, and suddenly nausea flared up within him. Trying to hold back his own retching, Kennith ran through the curtains after Obsequious; waving goodbye with one hand, and covering his mouth with the other.

#ghost and pals #communications by ghost #colorbars #broadcast illusion #I've never posted fanfics directly onto tumblr so I don't have a tag uhhhh #fanfic #Oh and by the way #I have outlines for future episodes with a few of Ghost's characters #So please let me know which characters you'd like to see featured next on the show!#appetite of a people pleaser

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incorrectdanganronpaquotes · 6 years

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“Ultimates Play” (a.k.a. Let’s Player AU)

Hey, Mod Snake here! So I realize that I’ve been sort of lax on my part in the 2K celebration. This has been mostly to the fact that I’ve been working on my senior thesis, and it’s been absolute hell trying to motivate myself to do anything with that nightmare hanging over my head. But now the thesis is officially over and I can finally get around to posting something I’ve been meaning to post for a while: an AU concept called “Ultimates Play!” The idea of this AU is similar to the Talent Development Plan ‘verse, except that the DR1, SDR2, and NDRV3 characters share a gaming channel on YouTube called ‘Ultimates Play’. Over the years since it started, the channel has evolved into sort of a Rooster Teeth-style project, with dozens of different series done by many different hosts. There’s a lot to unpack here, so let’s just jump right in!

General Concepts:

As you can imagine, Chiaki was the one to set up the channel; in fact, the channel was originally called “Chiaki’s Gaming Corner”, and the channel URL still reflects this. Hajime quickly became involved in the editing process, since Chiaki would frequently fall asleep before uploading the videos. Chiaki then gradually began introducing her fellow classmates, who had become interested in the games during Class 77’s meet-up times (everyone involved refuses to call them “classes”), as hosts of their own series; before long, this spread to other classes entirely. And thus, Ultimates Play was born.

Junko in this AU is still technically in despair, but the passion for video games she developed after spending some time with Chiaki helps keep her Ultimate Analyst abilities occupied, preventing her from becoming bored enough to lash out at the world. She is still extremely competitive and aggressive, particularly towards Mukuro, but in general it is typically safe to be in the same building as her.

This AU uses the “Class 79” canon for the V3 kids, similar to the Ultimate Talent Development Plan, since the Tragedy doesn’t happen in this AU.

As the channel started to get big, the group decides they need a headquarters in which to stay; they end up building it a few blocks away from Hope’s Peak. Very few of them live in the building full-time, but the building is equipped with dozens of beds anyway just in case they all happen to crash there overnight at the same time. There are also multiple TVs, so that different students can record series at the same time.

The channel is one of the top 10 most subscribed channels on YouTube, due in part to the variety of content. Of the series, Chiaki’s and Ibuki’s typically have the most views, while Celeste’s and Hajime’s have the least views.

Even though Komaru isn’t technically an Ultimate, Makoto and Toko both begged Chiaki until she was allowed to join the channel.

Individual Series:

Makoto and Kyoko have “Detective Training,” in which they play mystery games together; typically these consist of point-and-click adventure games, although sometimes they’ll do other genres if there is a sufficient mystery element. Kyoko almost always figures out the entire mystery from the start, so she basically spends the whole time trying not to spoil the twists and puzzles for Makoto. Shuichi occasionally guest stars, but he’s too self-conscious around Kyoko to make regular appearances.

Sakaya and Kaede share a series where they play rhythm games like DDR, as well as general music-themed games like Rockband; they alternate off randomly between which one is the host, never appearing in the same episode.

Toko’s primary series is “Toko’s Shovelware Spectacular”, in which she plays the worst of the worst games on the iPhone and Android app stores. Komaru makes an appearance every time there’s a multiplayer game, or whenever Toko is so genuinely shocked by a game’s shittiness that she needs a second person to confirm she’s not imagining things.

Neither Togami nor the Ultimate Imposter have a consistent theme for their series (although they tend towards real-time strategy games); however, there is something of a running joke between them. Every time Togami uploads a video on a game, Twogami will then upload a video on the same game, starting off from the same place Togami left off and claiming to be the next installment. Togami is consistently infuriated by this, but he can’t figure out how to stop it. There’s a running debate in the comments about whether the ‘second Togami’ is actually a distinct entity or just Togami playing an elaborate practical joke; this, for Togami, is the worst part of the whole thing.

Ishimaru has a series called “Upholders of Justice”, in which he plays crime-themed games (GTA, Saint’s Row, etc.) while breaking as few laws as the game will allow him to. If you’ve ever seen the Saints Row the Third episode of Monster Factory, it’s sort of like that.

Hifumi and Kazuichi have a shared series called “Love Quest 3000”, in which they play dating sims together; this is ostensibly for the purpose of figuring out how to get better at real romance, but they have yet to achieve any success in this field.

Celeste has a recurring series on gambling games, such as video poker and virtual slot machines. To her eternal fury, they are by far the least-viewed videos on the entire channel; this may be because she always wins, or because her commentary consists almost entirely of A) ‘advice’ on how to win at gambling (which boils down to “be lucky and don’t panic”), and B) reiterations of how successful she is.

While Junko doesn’t actually have a standalone series, there is a playlist named “With Junko” on the channel. This is because, rather than star in her own series, Junko will occasionally crash episodes of other series and serve as a guest commentator for the episode, typically without the approval or knowledge of the players in question. HOWEVER, Junko does co-star in a regular series called “Rose and Thorns”, in which she and Mukuro play co-op games like Portal 2 and New Super Mario Bros. You can probably imagine how well their interactions go.

Hajime did an Undertale LP.

In her continuing effort to be the most meta human being in the universe, Ibuki has only a single ongoing series: “Ibuki Plays Danganronpa”. At no point in the series does she comment on the fact that her fellow Ultimates- and indeed herself- appear in the games; the closest she comes is her DR2 LP, in which she off-handedly remarks on the similarities between herself and Ibuki in the game. There is only one exception: every time game-Ibuki’s corpse is on-screen in Chapter 3, real-Ibuki goes absolutely silent until the scene changes or she turns away. None of the other Ultimates can figure out where the hell she got these games, and she refuses to provide a straight answer.

Hiyoko and Mikan, of all people, have a shared series entitled “Super Bestest Friends Play!”; it consists pretty much entirely of Hiyoko forcing Mikan to play the weird Flash games you find on various “gaming” websites (i.e. bootleg Frozen games and the like). Hiyoko uploaded the first episode without permission from the others, and promptly found herself being threatened with stabbing by Maki, who is always on watch to make sure things don’t get too upsetting for Mikan; every once in a while you’ll hear a soft click in the background of the episodes, at which point Hiyoko will immediately and urgently apologize to Mikan and suggest a tamer game. Also, every once in a while the situation gets shaken up a bit: on at least a couple of occasions Mikan very visibly starts getting aroused by the games in question, which freaks Hiyoko out more than anything else the other Ultimates have ever seen (this is the main reason they allow the series to persist).

Gundham and Sonia have an ongoing series in which they play horror games together. Gundham constantly pretends not to be freaked out by the jumpscares, even though he is. Sonia constantly pretends to be freaked out by the atmosphere, even though she’s not. They are exactly as adorable together as you can imagine.

Gundham also has a recurring Pokémon series, covering at least one game from every Generation. He makes a dedicated effort to capture one of every Pokémon, and at the end of each playthrough he hacks in any that he can’t obtain legitimately that Gen. His videos are each at least an hour long because he can’t make himself stop playing with his Pokémon. He also cites Pokémon-Amie as the single greatest innovation in the history of the franchise.

As more and more shows started appearing on the channel, Chiaki started putting out less and less content- which suits her just fine, since it gives her more chances to play games with herself and her friends, without having to worry about making entertaining commentary. Her only ongoing series at the time of the AU is a gaming news show, where she reports on announcements about games she’s interested in, as well as discussions about what she’d like out of future games. Hajime is a recurring guest star on the series.

Komaru has a series where she plays whatever games she happens to like at the time; most of these are Nintendo games, and almost all of them are on the casual end of the spectrum. Toko regularly drops in without warning.

Mitarai has an ongoing visual novel review series, which frequently devolves into tips about drawing and commentary on anime he likes or dislikes.

Himiko has a series of RPG playthroughs, many of them unfinished. The only playthroughs she will consistently finish are Final Fantasy games, since they’re Tenko’s favorites. She also did exactly three episodes of a Kingdom Hearts LP before abandoning it, citing the story being too confusing.

Maki has a recurring series in which she plays first-person shooters in order to test their accuracy. To the hastily-suppressed delight of Kokichi (and the well-disguised amusement of everyone else in the building), Maki usually turns out to be absolutely terrible at these games, being so used to real combat situations that she can’t adapt to the artistic license of most FPS’s.

Kokichi Oma has only one series, which is entitled “Kokichi Plays Minecraft”. The series is well over a hundred episodes long, and not a single damn second of that is from Minecraft. Instead, every episode is taken from a different game, with no apparent pattern; each episode has Kokichi acting as if he’s been playing this game for several episodes, as well as alluding to various incidents that happened previously in the game (which, of course, the audience doesn’t get to see).

Tsumugi’s series is literally just makeup tutorials for cosplayers. She doesn’t seem to realize that it’s otherwise pretty much exclusively a gaming channel, and no one else has bothered to tell her.

There are plenty of other series not listed here, including some that pop up without warning and only air one or two episodes before ending. In general, every character from the games has at least one recurring series, each with wildly different schedules.

One series in particular doesn’t have a single consistent host; it’s called “Ultimate Date Night”, and the commentary role shifts between various couples within the group- Akane and Nekomaru, Himiko and Tenko, Sonia and Gundham, Kokichi and Shuichi- as they play various cooperative and competitive games together. There is also a spin-off series called “Double Date”, in which two such couples square off in team-based competitive games.

Other Headcanons:

At one point, Hifumi and Kazuichi definitely played Doki Doki Literature Club, and spent the second half of the series alternately screaming and crying. They were not ready.

For one April Fools’ Day, everyone on the channel traded series for the day; Makoto and Kyoko hosted “Love Quest 3000”, Celeste and Ishimaru hosted “Super Bestest Friends Play!”, Hiyoko and Mikan hosted the horror game series, Maki hosted “Detective Training” (with special guests Kaito and Maki), and so on. The only exception to this was Kokichi; the thumbnail for his video showed Mukuro as the host, but Kokichi introduces himself as usual at the start of the video and does his usual thing. Also, Junko cameoed on multiple series that day.

Makoto and Kyoko definitely played through Ghost Trick together, and Makoto cried multiple times throughout the game, particularly near the ending.

The only time anyone in the group has ever seen Junko legitimately cry is that one time when Mukuro beat her at Mario Kart 8. Mukuro has never let her forget that day.

Maki was banned from “Double Date” after her first and only appearance ended with extensive property damage and Fuyuhiko (who was on the other team with Peko) being rushed to the hospital with multiple broken bones.

Games Komaru has played include Super Mario Galaxy (finished, though not 100%), The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (unfinished), Thomas Was Alone, and Miitopia.

Chisa regularly visits the Ultimates Play headquarters, bringing snacks and encouragement. Everyone is happy to see her, even Togami and Kokichi.

Himiko was the first non-Class 77 member of the channel; no one is quite sure how she ended up joining, least of all Himiko.

Let us know if you like this idea, and if you have other headcanons regarding this AU! Maybe you’ll get featured in a follow-up post or something; who knows? Anyway, hope you enjoyed whatever this was!

- Mod Snake

#not quotes #au ideas #mod snake #ultimates play #let's play au #let's player au #danganronpa au #lots and lots of characters #chiaki nanami #that's probably the main one

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stillthewordgirl · 6 years

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LOT/CC fic: Captain Cold and Me (chapter 1 of 6)

Sara Lance, unbeknownst to her high school classmates, has connections to some of Star City's most popular super-powered heroes--but no powers of her own. Then the mysterious Captain Cold saves her from an attack…and does his best to convince her that he’s not the bad guy everyone seems to think he is. And maybe not all of the "good guys" should be trusted...

Author's note: This story is a weird amalgamation of things. It started when I saw a book titled "The Supervillain and Me" (check it out!) on the YA shelves at Barnes & Noble. That, of course, gave me CaptainCanary vibes. After I bought and read it, they were even stronger. I posted about that on Tumblr, and people encouraged me to write the CC high school AU I was considering.

So I did! It takes the skeleton of the book (which is very much its own thing-again, read it!)-at least at first-adds some (very adapted) Arrowverse characters and plots, and stirs it up with my own weird imagination. I own nothing of this but my own words, and I make no money off it.

This will be six chapters (all but one already complete), posted one a day until Tuesday. Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta, and to @sylvanheather for her thoughts! And happy birthday to @dragonydreams!

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

“Sara! Sara, did you hear?”

Sara Lance closed her eyes in resignation as she heard the footsteps of Felicity Smoak, her best friend, hurrying up behind her in the halls of Star City’s Kanigher-Broome High School. She loved Felicity, she really did, but she knew what was coming here, or suspected at any rate, and she really didn’t want to talk about it.

Felicity, however, was going to tell her anyway.

“Principal Hunter got a special guest for the assembly today,” she said breathlessly, adjusting the strap of her backpack where it was slung over her shoulder, swiping her dark hair with its blond roots out of her face. “Do you know who it is?”

Sara could guess.

“Nope,” she said, however, continuing to stroll toward physics class. “No idea. Fliss, did you finish your lab report yet? I want to ask Dr. Stein…”

“Sa-ra!” Felicity actually stomped her foot. “This is important! Don’t you think it’s probably a super? Should I go fix my hair? Redo my makeup before the assembly? We need to get there early so we can get a seat!”

Felicity had a real thing for supers—and the top team in Star City right now was the Black Canary and the Green Arrow. Sara’s friend had a massive crush on the Arrow (maybe on the Canary too), but she didn’t know what Sara did: That the Black Canary was Sara’s annoying big sister, Laurel, and the Arrow was Laurel’s rich-boy boyfriend, Oliver Queen.

Sara had known Laurel and all her quirks since birth, and she’d known Ollie for nearly as long as she could remember. It was tough to be awe-inspired by the girl who continually left sopping-wet towels on the bathroom floor or the boy who’d once been so helpless without servants that he’d kept buying new underwear rather than admit he didn’t know how to use the washing machine.

They’d both acquired their powers (for Laurel, a sonic scream, flight and a degree of invulnerability, and for Ollie, perfect aim, a literal inability to miss his mark, in addition to greater strength and agility) at about the same time, a handful of years ago, around their 16th birthdays, just like most supers. While Sara’s parents had made sure Laurel had a chance to learn and become accustomed to her powers, they’d balked at letting her take on the role of a public superhero despite her wishes.

Oliver hadn’t even entertained the notion, as far as Sara knew. He’d happily used his aim to win drinks in darts tournaments at Star City’s (not so) finest bars, and his strength to impress girls who weren’t Laurel.

Until the day everything changed.

It’d been an assassination attempt, everyone said, one that targeted both Commissioner Quentin Lance and Ollie’s mother, Moira Queen, who’d been mayor at the time. A massive earthquake centered on the old City Hall, undeniably unnatural, as it hadn’t affected anything outside a relatively small radius. At first, everyone had suspected a super gone rogue, before investigation had revealed the device detonated by a disgruntled former police officer.

Quentin and Moira had survived. Dinah, Sara and Laurel’s mother, who’d been on her way into the building to meet her husband for lunch, had not. Neither had Tommy Merlyn, Ollie’s best and oldest friend and the son of Moira’s deputy mayor. He’d been sitting on the front steps, waiting for his perpetually late friend to show up.

They didn’t have costumes or names yet, and they wouldn’t go patrolling for a few months. But in many ways, that was the day the Black Canary and the Green Arrow were born.

And then there was Sara, just a few years younger. Sara didn’t have powers. She had a second-degree black belt—about to test for third--but no powers.

It wasn’t good enough. It would never be good enough. Sara sighed. Felicity, unaware of her thoughts, elbowed her.

“Come on!” she said. “Earth to Sara Lance! What do you think?”

“I think I want to skip it,” Sara muttered, shifting her own backpack.

“Skip English class?” Felicity blinked at her. “That’s not like you.”

Apparently, Sara had completely missed the thread of this conversation. She sighed again. “No. Never mind.” She gave her friend a onceover. “You look fine. And we get there early if you want. Just don’t expect me to squeal and wave and go all fangirl with you.”

Felicity grinned and gave her a one-armed hug. “Sara, I just don’t get you at times, but you’re the best.”

“You know it.”

Felicity (and Sara) had guessed right. The Green Arrow in his hood and green leather and Black Canary in her black leather and domino mask had strolled out onto the stage at the assembly, exhorting the students not to bully each other and to stay in school, etc., etc. Sara had rolled her eyes so hard they hurt, while Felicity did indeed squeal and wave and go all fangirl. She was still gushing when the assembly let out, and they headed for what Principal Hunter called the senior Creators Club—and Sara privately called Kanigher-Broome’s catchall hangout for Star City’s young, social and slightly geeky.

Sara’s father didn’t really like her being home on her own any more, not since…since her mother died. He was still concerned that the would-be killer (who had died in prison last year) hadn’t acted alone, and that the whole family could be a target. Quentin not only went armed as part of his commissioner duties, he often had an entourage with him at all times—and Laurel was the Black Canary. Sara was…just Sara. So, to keep her dad happy, she stayed at school a little longer, working on whatever homework or projects came her way, chatting with Felicity and other classmates, pretending things were…normal.

“Did you see? The Green Arrow winked at me, Sara!” Felicity did a little dance step in the corridor on their way toward the senior lounge, dodging students headed in the other direction. “He did! I swear it. Right at me.”

Ollie had probably been winking at Sara. He knew perfectly well that she hated when he and Laurel made appearances at her school. “Mmhmm,” she agreed absently. “That Green Arrow. Quite the flirt.” Ollie was a flirt, or he had been. The Green Arrow was anything but.

“Do you think I should go blond again?” Felicity stopped, facing Sara, wrapping her fingers around a tendril of her hair and holding it out to inspect it critically. “I like the goth-y look,” she commented, starting to turn to head toward the lounge again, “but…oof!”

She collided right with a tall, thin boy, knocking his bag out of his hands and knocking her own glasses off her face. Grasping desperately for them, she grabbed the edges of his worn black jacket instead, the glasses clattering to the floor. The boy reacted with a startled noise and stepped back, tripping over his own bag, making a faint sound of pain as he did so.

Sara stepped forward in concern, reaching out to steady him, even as Felicity stooped and felt around for her glasses. But he caught himself without incident, shaking his head, and Sara stopped wondering if she’d imagined that pained gasp.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

The boy, who had dark, very short hair with what might even be a few glints of premature silver in it, was still looking aside, stooping to reclaim his bag.

“I’m all right,” he said in a low tone as he straightened. “Really. Thanks.”

Felicity gave a cry of victory and stuffed her glasses back on to her face, standing again. ”Sorry!” she told the boy cheerfully, then frowned. “Wait. Do I know you?”

He gave an almost curt shake of his head, looking at Felicity, then finally glancing at Sara. His eyes—an icy blue that was so striking that Sara sucked in a breath--widened, and he turned away abruptly. Sara blinked, watching him duck into the senior lounge. He’d been quite good-lucking, really, she thought. Those cheekbones and eyelashes were totally unfair in addition to those eyes.

“Sara! Sara!”

Felicity would keep Sara-ing her until she responded. With a sigh, she looked at her friend, who was still gaping at the door to the lounge. “What?”

The other girl looked upset, for some reason. “Don’t you know who that was?”

“…no?” The boy had looked vaguely familiar, though everything about him—his hunched shoulders, his downcast eyes—screamed that he didn’t want to be noticed.

“That was Leonard Snart. Snart, Sara!”

The world stopped. “Oh.”

Snart. The son of Lewis Snart, the crooked officer who’d tried to arrange for her dad’s assassination, who’d rocked Star City with the explosion that had killed her mother and so many others. For a moment, Sara couldn’t breathe. The memories were still so strong…the search for survivors, the hunt for suspects, the news that’d trickled out about motives and targets. The trial, which had, mercifully, been extremely brief.

“How do you know?” she asked numbly, stepping to the side to let other seniors by. “I mean. I know he had two kids, a son and daughter. But neither of them went here…before…”

Felicity sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her gaze was sympathetic and troubled.

“Remember that hackerspace thing I was involved with a few years back?” she asked. “Over in the East Side? I ran into him there once or twice. Never talked, barely knew his name. He’s a quiet kid. It took me a minute to recognize him here. He shaved off his curls.” She glanced away. “It’s not like I was going to bring it up after. But…Snart. Sort of a memorable name.”

“Yeah.” Sara stood, frozen, another moment, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like he had anything to do with it. I just…I thought both of them went into foster care in Central. I remember reading…”

She’d once read the articles about the case obsessively, determined to figure out if anything could have saved her mom, could prevent something like that from ever happening again. She’d always wondered if Laurel or Ollie could have, if they’d been using their powers for hero-ing back then. But it was the kind of thing she’d never had the heart to ask.

“I know.” Felicity’s voice was low. She sighed again. “I can’t figure out why he’d even want to come back here.”

“Um. I might know something about that…”

Both of them turned at the sheepish voice behind them. Barry Allen, shuffling his feet, gave them an uncertain grin. Felicity squeaked and put her hands on her hips. She’d dated Barry briefly, but while it hadn’t lasted, they were still friends. And as Sara well knew, withholding information was majorly against the Felicity’s-friend code.

“Spill, Allen,” she said, fiercely enough that Barry paled a little.

“Well, not really the reasons,” he clarified, switching his gaze to Sara, his cheeks a little pink. She smiled despite herself. Barry was such a lovable dork. “But some of the story behind it.”

Felicity folded her arms and fixed him with a glare that was probably supposed to be intimidating, then gave him a regal nod, as if to tell him to carry on with it.

“My dad met him, Snart—uh, Len—in Central City, when he was there doing some, ah, charity work.” Barry continued. Sara remembered that his dad was a doctor, and that his family was originally from Central. “His little sister, she’s happy there, in school, with a good family, but Len wanted to come back here to at least finish school.” He bit his lip. “Dad helped him with the emancipation paperwork. I don’t know where he’s living, but he’s come by our house for dinner once or twice, at my parents’ insistence. Doesn’t talk much.” He sighed. “Be nice to him, OK? He’s had a rough road, but he’s an OK guy. There’s good in him.”

His pleading gaze was on Sara, who really had no intention of holding Leonard Snart responsible for his father’s misdeeds. She nodded, then smirked, deciding to try to lighten the mood a little.

“Aww,” she teased. “Gotta crush on him, Barry? He is really cute.”

Barry blinked, then turned pinker. “What? No! Uh. Not that I have a problem with that.”

Barry and his current girlfriend, Iris West, were currently the leading contenders for most likely to get married right after graduation. It was just a lot of fun to tease him about it.

Felicity got a particularly evil look on her face, but Sara, still smirking, cut back in.

“Of course I’ll be nice to him,” she said, then sobered. “Having a horrible parent doesn’t make him a bad person.” She nibbled her lip a little, thinking. “He’s kinda one of his dad’s victims too, in a way, isn’t he?”

Barry nodded, growing serious himself. “Yeah. I mean…he hated the guy. Hated. It’s not like he’s talked about it, really, but…”

“Join the crowd,” Sara murmured, as Felicity nodded next to her. “No worries, Bar. In fact…”

She shouldered her backpack, took a deep breath, and headed for the lounge. “In fact, I think there’s something I need to do.”

She could hear Barry and Felicity following her, but she ignored them, stopping in the entrance and scanning the room. There. The dark-haired boy was sitting by himself at a table in the far corner, pulling a laptop out of his much-abused bag and opening it on the table. He glanced up as she approached, a flash of something darting over his face, and Sara felt a pang of empathy.

“Hey,” she said as he met her eyes, his own gaze opaque. “I just wanted to say, sorry about my friend. She’s a klutz.” She took a deep breath (ignoring Felicity’s protests behind her), then held out her hand. “I’m Sara Lance.”

The boy—Leonard—held her gaze for a long moment, then stood. He was tall, Sara thought, eying him. And…yeah. Cute. Hot, really. Mm. He didn’t look like a senior in high school. College student, at least.

“Hey,” he said in return, so quietly that she could barely hear him. “It’s OK.” He shrugged. “It was an accident.”

“Your laptop’s all right?” Sara darted a look down at it. It was an old machine, she thought. But that didn’t mean it didn’t mean a lot to him.

“It’s fine.” The corner of his mouth tugged up a little, a tiny little smile, but a smile nonetheless. Sara felt like she’d won a victory. Then he reached out and took her proffered hand.

A firm, calloused grip, one that didn’t back down because she was a girl. Sara liked that. And he didn’t seem to find her gesture overly formal because they were only in high school. His handshake was steady, and so were his eyes, and damn…

“Leonard Snart,” he said so quietly that she could barely hear him.

“Pleased to meet you, Leonard,” she said quietly in return. “Glad you’re OK.”

She’d been pulled away from Leonard nearly immediately, and that was OK too. Felicity had wanted to talk about the physics lab she’d been uninterested in earlier, and then to gush about the Green Arrow and the Black Canary some more. Then Barry and Iris had come over, asking about the upcoming talent show, and she’d gotten distracted again.

When the club hours had ended and they’d all been told to go home, Sara glanced around, but Leonard Snart was already gone. She shook her head, then bade other friends farewell and walked with Felicity toward the parking lot, where the other girl turned to her.

“Do you need a ride home?” Felicity asked, a touch distractedly. “It’s no problem. I can drop you off on the way.”

Felicity drove like a bat out of hell. Sara loved her friend, but she was actually glad to have an excuse not to trust her life to the Fliss-mobile today.

“Nah. My dad is actually home tonight. He wants us all to have dinner together, for once,” she demurred. “Should be here soon.”

Felicity gave her a cheerful wave, then headed toward her old Cobalt, peeling out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. Sara shook her head, then checked her phone.

Nothing. But after only a few moments, it chimed. Sara, watching the other seniors trickle out one by one, checked it again.

“Sorry, honey,” her dad texted. “Stuck here late. Can Felicity give you a ride?”

Sara bit her lip. Why hadn’t he sent that a few moments ago? But she’d thought that this dinner thing might actually happen. She could text Laurel, but her sister and Ollie almost certainly had something more important going on. Hero-ing and whatnot.

“Sure,” she texted back after a moment. “See you later.”

Then she started for home.

It wasn’t a long walk, really. But with the level of violence in Star City these days, neither her dad nor her sister usually liked her walking home alone, especially not later in the day. Whatever. Sara had a black belt. She could take care of herself. Her grip tightened on her backpack. Right? She’d be fine.

Sara was crossing the railroad tracks just outside the edge of the Glades when she heard the footsteps. Two people, at a guess. Well. People went for walks here too. Probably. She listened, heart beating just a little faster, then scanned the street ahead of her. Stores and other businesses closed down early here these days. Nothing seemed to be open, and traffic was nonexistent.

She picked up the pace, just a little. The footsteps picked up too. And then they were three sets. Four?

Sara abandoned her pretense and ran. There had to be someplace she could duck into, she thought, her own heartbeat echoing in her ears. There had to be!

A male voice behind her called out something in a snarl. Sara didn’t look back, pelting down the uneven sidewalk, scanning the quiet street, wondering if she should yell or...

Someone grabbed her backpack, jerking her to a stop, and Sara kept enough presence of mind to turn fighting. She lashed out at the man with a hand, fingers stiff, jabbing toward his eyes and connecting. He yelped, putting his hands to his face, and she pulled away, turning to run ahead.

But there were two more men there, young and scruffy, thin and looking a bit strung out. Sara didn’t hesitate. She struck out at one’s face, then kicked hard at his kneecap, sending him tumbling to the ground, then rounded on the other, who gaped at her a moment, apparently stunned by her reaction.

Sara drove her foot into his groin without a flicker of sympathy, stepping past him as he folded, drawing a breath to run again. She’d done it, she’d defended herself, she could...

The first man, however, hadn’t been as down for the count as she’d hoped. An arm looped around her neck even as she took a step, pulling her back again, and...damn. Something cold and metal pressed against the skin just under her right ear, something sharp.

“Money!” her captor hissed in her ear, arm tightening. Sara could hear the groans from the other two, interspersed with cursing. She tried to take a deep breath, thinking about what she had in her bag.

“I don’t have any,” she said after a moment. “I don’t! Really. Look!”

“Yeah, right!” The knife pricked harder...but then the man did move it, reaching down toward her bag, and his other arm loosened just a little.

Sara took advantage of it. She stomped on the instep of his foot, hard, then threw an elbow right into his solar plexus when his grip loosened. He crumbled and she turned to run again, taking a step, then two...

“OK, pretty girl, freeze!”

There had been a fourth man. And he had a gun. Which was now pointed right at her head.

Sara froze.

The man was to her right, but she could see him, and the gun, out of the corner of her eye. He held it steady and seemed far more calm and competent than the other men. Which made him far scarier.

For a long moment, he studied her, then let out a snort of laughter. Sara wanted to bristle at the derision...but she didn’t dare move a muscle. Supers were said to have a sixth sense about people in trouble, and while Laurel and Oliver said it was nebulous and impossible to measure, there was a measure of truth to it. Surely one of them would come to her rescue? It would be mortifying...but at this point...

“Someone will pay ransom for you,” the other man said, finally. “Girl like you in a place like this? Someone’s gotta be looking for you.” He chuckled again. It was not a nice chuckle. “Maybe we’ll even give you back. Maybe not.”

Sara took a slow breath. She couldn’t let this man just kidnap her. And she had to move before the other men regrouped. They were all getting to their feet, muttering to each other.

Then there was a noise to her left, a thud as if of someone landing on the ground. A sense of chill. Sara nearly looked, hoping for Laurel or Oliver, but the gun was still pointed at her and...

“Duck—and close your eyes!”

This isn’t the time to look a gift hero in the mouth. Err, something like that. Sara did as she was told, dropping to a knee and squeezing her eyes shut.

The blast of cold came from the left, so close to Sara’s face that she could feel the frost forming on her eyelashes. Somewhere, a corner of her brain registered that was new, that there wasn’t a super with ice powers in Star City, or none that she knew of. (Or that Felicity knew of, which was even more conclusive.) She heard yelps from the men and the crackle of what seemed to be ice, and braced for the crack of a gunshot...but none came. Just more thuds, as if of bodies falling to the ground.

“OK. You can look.”

Sara opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the four men, all stretched out on the ground, all covered by a sheen of frost. A sigh of relief escaped her lips even as she flinched, wondering.

“Are they...”

“They’re just out...cold. You all right?”

Sara looked up.

The figure in front of her, extending a hand to help her up, was no one she’d ever seen before. Black pants, black boots…and then a blue parka over the top, fur-fringed hood pulled up over his head. His face was obscured by a pair of goggles, but a smile tugged at his mouth as he looked at her.

“It’s OK,” he said, keeping the hand extended. “I don’t bite. Unless it’s frostbite. Heh. Maybe that’s a potential name.”

Bad puns. Why did supers love them so much? Sara stared at him long enough that the smile fled, but he kept the hand held out to her.

Male, from the voice. And about her age, also from the voice. Sara frowned, trying to place it, but then took the offered hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“Um,” she said. “Thanks. Really. I thought I had that, but...the gun...”

“I saw. You were badass. I just figured I should help out.” The tone was admiring. And he still had her hand. Sara looked down at it, noting that he also wore black gloves, but the super let go then, taking a step back courteously.

“You’re new,” she said, still a little shell-shocked. “Ice powers. That’s...new.”

“Yeah. Sort of.” The boy...man?...walked over to the four men and studied them. “I’ll alert the cops that they’re here. They’ll thaw out soon enough. We should get going...hey, wait!”

Sara had already turned away and started walking as fast as she could, not quite running. The super caught up to her easily, though, jogging along next to her, glancing her way.

“That was really impressive,” he said. “What...what’s your name?”

This guy, hero or not, was starting to annoy her. Sara frowned at him, although she kept walking.

“I said thank you,” she gritted out. “What do you want?”

“Just making conversation.” He almost sounded hurt. “Hey, like you said, I’m new. Thought maybe...”

“You thought wrong.” Sara took a breath and stopped. “Look. Iceman, or whatever your name is...”

“I think that one’s taken.” The drawl was amused. He smirked at her, an infectious expression, and she almost smirked back. But...she already knew far too much about two of the city’s main supers. She didn’t need, or want, to know any more.

“Thank you,” she said again, trying to project sincerity. “Truly. Now, I have to get home.”

He nodded, but didn’t move, the smirk fading into something more...wistful? Somehow it touched a chord, and Sara studied him a moment longer, intrigued despite herself. Then, cursing her curiosity, she turned and headed down the street.

And that jerk kept following her.

“I could see you home,” he said.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You are fine,” he retorted. “But I can still make sure you get there...”

“Goodbye, Iceman.”

A sigh. Then: “Goodbye, Sara.”

She whipped around, but he was gone already, apparently faded into the trees at the side of the street in one of those near-patented super moves.

Ass. Sara studied the trees, curiosity surging again, then turned and headed home as fast as she could, feeling the irritating sense of someone watching her the entire way. She made it in the door, slamming and locking it behind her, then dropped her backpack on the floor and closed her eyes.

She’d been rescued by the world’s most infuriating superhero.

Par for the course.

#captain cold and me #captain canary #arrowverse #sara lance #leonard snart

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writingbarnes · 6 years

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The Cursed Heir [ Bucky Barnes x Reader ] • 2 of 5

Summary : That made him chuckle. The smile made him look a lot younger, she noticed, feeling her face heat up a little at the revelation. “You’ll have to get in line for that.” He said with a grin, oblivious to the slight flush of her face.

“Well, I have time.” She replied, looking away from his eyes. Fairy Tale/Prince Bucky AU

THE CURSED HEIR FIC | AO3

Character : Bucky Barnes X OC ( Reader ) | Genre : Fluff, light angst | Words : 2.5K-ish

Author’s Note : Yay! Chapter 2! Look at me. I’m on a roll. I’m finishing up the last chapter so here’s chapter two! I hope you like it. Tell me what you think! As always, thank you victoria for helping me with this fic <3

Dear Peggy,

If this letter finds you, I hope you know that I am well and I am sorry for not listening to you. I hope you also know it wasn’t anyone’s fault (maybe mine, for being so foolish). I should probably start from the beginning...

…The old lady was right. The place is cursed and I may not be able to return home. I thought it was a prank until I tried to stick my hand out of the gate. I almost passed out from the pain. I’m sorry, Peggy.

I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck here. Natasha said it might be for forever. I hope they can break the curse and let me go home and see you again…

The good news is that the people here seem pretty nice.

Natasha is a general of the Royal Army, even though she said it’s an outdated title, considering they don’t have any army. She reminded me of you. I was also introduced to Steve. He’s the most beautiful specimen I have ever seen in my entire life. I thought I was in heaven when I woke up and saw his face. The painting of angels we saw at the museum last year? He was ten times more beautiful than that. I bet you’ll like him. He’s EXACTLY your type. Beautiful, slightly reckless (I saw him trying to jump from the second floor), and looks like the golden retriever Tony and Pepper owns. There’s also Clint. He’s a little weird. He’s supposed to be some kind of commander but I think he just likes Natasha a lot. He also likes his arrow a little too much. And then there’s Sam. He’s very nice too. He has a magical falcon and he lets me borrow him so I can send this letter to you–

“No mention of me? I’m hurt.” [Y/N] jumped at the voice behind her. She let out a slight shriek and turned around, only to find the menace called Bucky looming behind her with a smirk on his face. [Y/N] rolled her eyes and grabbed the pen she dropped. She ignored his presence and continued to finish the last bit of her letter.

There’s one more person. Bucky. He’s a weird guy. He claims to be a prince but I’m not sure.

“Hey!”

“It’s my letter!” [Y/N] hissed when he tried to grab the paper.

Natasha (the only sane person in this place) said you can visit me if you want, but you can’t step inside the castle ground. I really am sorry.

Love, your sister

[Y/N]

“That’s just biased.”

“It’s a very objective opinion. I like Natasha. She’s nice.” [Y/N] huffed, folding the letter to fit inside the envelope Sam gave her earlier. “Why are you here?”

Bucky looked at little nervous at her question and she thought she saw a slight blush dusting his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I wanted to see if you’re okay.” He said after a long beat of silence. “I know it’s not an easy thing to accept. Natasha said you didn’t cry or anything and it… it’s more worrisome, I guess.” He finished, eyes darting back and forth between the letter and her eyes. “Are you?”

“I’m not.” [Y/N] honestly replied with a sigh. “The sun has set and I’m sure my sister is worried sick. I can’t hug her and tell her it’ll be okay. I can’t go home and watch her experiment with food anymore. I can’t see her punch sleazy drunk guys anymore.”

“You seem very calm.” Bucky commented as he sat on the empty space next to her.

“Being angry at everyone seems a little pointless. No one really wants to stay here. It’s not your fault and the reality still hasn’t sunk in completely,” she shrugged, “I do want to punch the witch that put this stupid curse.”

That made him chuckle. The smile made him look a lot younger, she noticed, feeling her face heat up a little at the revelation. “You’ll have to get in line for that.” He said with a grin, oblivious to the slight flush of her face.

“Well, I have time.” She replied, looking away from his eyes.

“You know, you’re not as weird as I thought you were.” [Y/N] commented as she stood up and brushed away some leaves from her skirt.

“So, are you going to revise the letter, then?

“No.”

“Come on!”

Early evening found her in a huge guest room and a few sets of clean clothes courtesy of Natasha. Natasha mentioned it was a little small and apologized. [Y/N] was too stunned to really say anything in return. It was bigger than her flower shop, the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom the size of her bedroom at home. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, placed against the wall to her right. A beautiful vanity table sat against the wall to her left, a few feet away from the window that lead to a small balcony. The carpet under the bed felt soft against her feet when she finally sat down on the mattress, drawing a soft sigh from her lips. Her attention went to the stack of clothes Natasha had left earlier. Most of them were tunics and leggings, though she managed to find a dress with long poet sleeves amongst them in the color of the night sky and a plain white nightgown. She mentally thanked Natasha for lending clean undergarments, making a note to write to her sister later so she could bring her clothes from home. She glanced at the bathroom, the prospect of having a long hot bath making her shiver in anticipation.

“[Y/N]?” Maybe she spoke too soon.

She set down the nightgown on the bed and walked over to the door, twisting the knob open. Bucky Barnes, the prince himself, greeted her with an awkward smile.

“Do you want to have dinner with us?” Her stomach growled at the mention of food.

“I take that as a yes?” Bucky bit back a chuckle.

“Yes. Dinner would be nice.”

“Let’s go then. The others are waiting for you.” He offered his hand, lips still curled into a smile. It was just a simple gesture, really. But it had been a very long day and she was tired and hungry and needed a lot of sleep and a long hug. [Y/N] couldn’t stop the tiny whimper that escaped her lips. Bucky appeared to have noticed it, because he leaned down to her height, his warm hands resting on her shoulders as he struggled to come up with comforting words.

“Are you okay?” His voice was so soft it just made her tear up more. Her quiet sniffles soon turned into sobs that startled him. “Please don’t cry.” Bucky begged.

“I want to go home.” She cried, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of her dress. “I’m tired. I can’t do this. I’m not… I just want to feed the cat. Why do I have to stay?” [Y/N] knew she probably sounded like a five-year-old child throwing a tantrum, but she couldn’t care less. She needed her sister and the warmth of her small, humble home.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky whispered, hesitantly pulling her into a comforting hug. The pain in his left shoulder came back and Bucky stood quietly while she sobbed, the sound of her cries twisted his heart like sharp knives.

By the time he went back to the dining room, his white shirt had a small patch of tears near his chest and he looked like he was about to cry. Sam and Clint, who were about to made a comment on his tardiness, paused at Bucky’s face. It was Steve who noticed his somber mood, flashing him a small smile when Bucky took the seat next to him.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand and sighed. “She’s a little tired. We should probably set aside some bread and milk for her in case she gets hungry. Can you bring it to her room later, Natasha?”

“Of course.” Natasha nodded, noting the tiredness in her friend’s voice.

“It’s not your fault.” Steve said, walking into Bucky’s room, eyes hard with conviction. “It’s not.” He repeated.

Bucky only nodded quietly as he changed his shirt. “It is, though. I picked the wrong princess.”

“You thought you loved her. That wasn’t your fault. She even put you under her spell.” Steve insisted. “[Y/N] is tired. This is only her first day. You can’t expect her to accept it without any fuss, Buck. But that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

Bucky shrugged, clearly not accepting anything other than blame and the guilt he had been shouldering for the past century.

“It’s not your fault.” Steve repeated before he huffed in annoyance and left the room.

Peggy Carter was a strong woman. She didn’t take any shit when Joe from the bar tried to hit on her. She punched Ivan when he refused to leave her alone. She didn’t cry when her sister didn’t come back from her little adventure. She went to the town leader and demand a search. She ignored the weird looks she got from her neighbors when she told them her sister was missing, not running away. She was a brave woman through and through. She didn’t even scream when a falcon landed on her windowsill with a letter on its leg a week after her sister disappeared.

But then she read the letter, recognizing the all-too-familiar handwriting, and Peggy couldn’t help but break down in tears. It was the first time she felt so lost and angry and relieved. The falcon perched itself near her, as if trying to comfort her.

“I suppose I’ll have to go there and demand my sister back, right?” She said to the falcon, who only tilted its head. “Maybe I should go to the old lady first. See if she can help me with this… problem.”

That was how she found herself standing in the middle of grandmother Monica’s living room an hour later, eyes scanning the room in curiosity while the old woman took a seat on the small couch. Grandmother Monica was a black woman with bright wise eyes and a kind smile. She had been the town’s healer for decades, and her mother and grandmother decades before her. Peggy and Wanda had talked about her the other day, believing she was more of a witch than a simple town healer.

“You’re looking for your sister.” Grandmother Monica said to her.

“How–“

“The falcon told me. You can’t get her back. Not unless the curse is broken.” She shook her head sadly.

“They can’t just hold her there against her wish!” Peggy insister, anger surging inside her the more she thought about her sister.

But Grandmother Monica didn’t flinch at the intensity of her voice. She only smiled, offering her a glass of hot tea. “You think they want to, child? The north witch, Sin, had put a curse on that castle ground.”

“There must be a way to break the curse.”

“Some says a true soulmate will break it.” Grandmother Monica said as she gently pet the falcon. “Other says they have to kill the witch.”

“Where’s the witch?”

“She disappeared after my grandmother tried to help remove the curse.” The old woman said. “It didn’t work but it gives them a little protection from the witch.”

“Tell me how to find her.”

“Have you seen [Y/N]?” Natasha asked him the moment Bucky reached the dining hall for breakfast.

“She’s not in her room?” He frowned. In the past week they had known her, she had never once missed her breakfast.

“No. Clint is looking for her right now.” Natasha shook her head. “The servants mentioned a woman walking out of the castle at dawn. We think it was her.”

She should be fine, he thought to himself. The castle might be big but it wasn’t as big as the main palace in the capital. Steve thought so too as well, adding a comment on her need to be alone and undisturbed. Bucky tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in his chest and finished his breakfast in silence. He had other things to do, he reminded himself. She would be fine.

[Y/N] was not fine at all.

She hadn’t been able to sleep the past week, finally opting to leave the castle for a walk when she found herself still awake at dawn. It was supposed to be a short walk. She had brought her notebook and pen, hoping to find a place she could sit and draw. She surveyed the unfamiliar area at the far edge of the castle ground. There was a wooden pier that lead to a small lake. A small boat tied to one of the pole and [Y/N], with her sad laden mind, decided it would be a good idea to get into the boat.

That was four hours ago and she was still stuck in the middle of the lake, the paddles had sunk when she tried to turn the boat around. She was freezing in her nightgown and thin robes. Her stomach had been grumbling loudly the past hour, begging her to find something to eat. She regretted not going to dinner last night, memories of her breaking down in front of Bucky last week made her heart thump a little faster in embarrassment. And a little bit of guilt. She had been pretending nothing had happened for the past week. She swore to apologize to him if she ever made it out of this lake alive, maybe gift him with a drawing of flowers she found on the garden yesterday.

On the bright side, the view was breathtaking. She could see the castle and the garden from the lake, her hand itching to sketch it down. But she had run out of ink an hour ago so she just had to memorize every single detail so she could draw it later. She laid down on the boat, squinting her eyes at the sun that didn’t seem to warm the land at all. Was it the curse, she wondered, raising her arms towards the sky, hoping to feel a little bit of warmth.

On the fifth hour, she started to get restless and a little dizzy from hunger and dehydration. She could barely scream with the little energy she had left. And she tried to use her hands as paddles, hoping it could take her close enough to the short. It was the most futile attempt that did nothing but drain her energy.

The sixth hour found her crying again as she called Bucky’s name between her sobs. It was pathetic. Even she thought she was pathetic. Peggy would’ve laughed at her, she thought, the waterworks not stopping even when she started to hiccup. She couldn’t even swim. Why did she even bother going to the lake and rowing herself off the shore.

On the seventh hour, she swore she had started to hallucinate. She saw Bucky waving at her from the pier. Her hand went up to wave back. She staggered to her feet, the boat swaying dangerously to the sides. “BUCKY!” She smiled widely. Her hallucination looked scared and she was about to ask what was wrong when she tilted too far to the left, tipping the boat over and went straight into the cold lake.

Tagging some people : @pleasecallmecaptain @mangosoldier @wakandasoldier @tabi-toast @writing-soldiers@4theluvofall @meavie @montysmayhem @scarlettsoldier @marvelrevival @sebbys-girl@waitingfortherightpartner @sebstan-theman @elfwriter1088@wordsturnintostories@chromealchemist@showbuckysomelove @meavie

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witter-potter · 6 years

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run away with my love (chapter two)

summary: when mike left, he was desperate to find anything better. he certainly never meant to fall in love. but, life words in mysterious ways and sometimes it sends you right into the place you’re meant to be without you noticing. runaway au. pairing: mike wheeler x eleven word count: 5,238 notes: i was so happy with how much love and support the first chapter of this fic got, so i was super pumped to post chapter two!! thank u all for all the comments and good reception, i appreciate all of your kind words very much. please enjoy and let me know what you think!!!

(read on ao3)

November 7 + 8, 1987

They’ve been driving for about twenty minutes when the realization of what Mike had just done begins to sink in. He can only sit there in slightly shell shocked silence as Indianapolis fades in the distance and they enter a small, homey neighborhood. Due to the late hour, there aren’t many other cars on the road, which only seems to make the silence even more deafening.

He ran away from home.

He got into a stranger’s car.

He’s on his way to spend the night in previously mentioned stranger’s house.

Before today, the craziest thing Mike had ever done is line up hours before the release of the final Star Wars movie back in ’83 with the rest of the guys. He definitely thinks that this might just be a little crazier.

Despite all that though, he still can’t bring himself to regret any of it.

If El has any indication that he’s mentally freaking, she doesn’t show it. Mike sneaks a glance at her at one point and she’s focused on the road, humming some pop song that he’s pretty sure his sister used to listen to under her breath. He’s grateful for it.

A couple minutes later she slows down and pulls up in front a modest looking home with a large tree in the front. There’s a police cruiser parked in the driveway and Mike feels his blood pressure begin to rise. His leg starts bouncing.

“My dad’s the police chief.” She says, a small smile on her face. It’s almost like she had read his mind. While that calms him down a little bit, no one is here because they’re looking for him or anything like that, his leg continues to bounce.

“Your dad’s a police officer?” His voice betrays him by being about four pitches higher than normal. “Is he going to be okay with this?”

El shrugs, looking at the front door. There’s a dim light in the front window and Mike can see the television playing some sports game. “I’ve never brought any strays home with me before, but considering everything that’s happened to me, I think he’ll be fine with it.”

Mike doesn’t quite know what she means when she says “everything that’s happened” to her, but she has a weird look on her face that tells him she probably doesn’t want to talk about it, so he doesn’t ask. He swallows roughly, giving her a forced smile and a nod.

“And besides, I’m pro at winning arguments with my dad at this point, if he even tries to fight me, he’ll regret it.” This time she’s smile, a hint of something akin to mischief in her eyes and Mike can’t resist the chuckle that falls from his lips. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, even if he says no I’ll sneak you into my room after he falls asleep.”

She says the words so bluntly that Mike almost chokes on air.

He’s never spent the night in a bedroom that didn’t belong to him or one of his friends, the fact that he’s going to be spending this one a stranger’s guest room was weird enough. The mere idea of sleeping in a room that belonged to a pretty girl, let alone a girl as pretty as El was (and boy was she) was enough to make his palms sweat and his heart thump loudly in his chest.

“Well, he’s gonna get all weird and confused if we stay out here much longer, you ready?” Mike nods wordlessly. He can feel his skin going cold and he no doubt looks paler than usual. El seems to notice this and reaches out, patting his hand. “I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

And like earlier, when her words seemed to be all he needed, he smiled, suddenly feeling far less nervous.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

She smiles, and opens the car, disappearing around the front of the car and up the walkway. Mike watches her for a moment, a small grin on his face. He waits a couple seconds before pushing his own door and following her.

Jim Hopper liked to think that he was a reasonable man. Especially when it came to raising his teenage daughter.

He had allowed her to take that weekend job that kept her out past midnight. He always let her best friend, Max, come over without asking first and without any questions. He never lectured her on her grades or forced her to show him her completed homework. He never asked her to turn her music down, never tried to tell her what to wear.

So yeah, Jim Hopper liked to think that he was a reasonable father.

That was until said teenage daughter decided to bring a teenage boy home with her one night. And not just any teenage boy, a teenage boy with whom Jim had never had the pleasure of meeting before.

Friday night started out like any other Friday night. He got home from work right after nine o’clock. He had one beer along with one piece of the traditional Friday night lasagna, put the rest in the oven on low to keep warm for El, and sat down to watch the week’s sports highlights while he waited for her to get home.

Typically El was home at about 12:20, give or take how much clean up there was, but it was never later then 12:25. She was always in the door before the 12:30 sports news started. So, the first sign to Jim that tonight was not a typical Friday night was when 12:20 hit and there was no sign of El.

Not a big deal, he thought absentmindedly, only a little worried. Maybe she’d had to clean up a lot of stuff, maybe there had been unexpected traffic coming out of the city. He was willing to explain it away, at least for a couple more minutes.

The second sign was when El did get home at about 12:30, she stayed in her car. Usually El was like clock work, park her car in front of the house, kill the ignition three seconds later, get out of the car about five seconds later, walk up the walkway and be in the house about thirty seconds after initially parking her car.

Tonight however, she didn’t get out of the car after killing the ignition. Jim didn’t think too much of it though. Maybe she had spilled something in the back and was trying to pick it up, maybe she was trying to organize her tapes so they were in the right place tomorrow. It was strange, but not weird enough to put him out of sorts.

The third sign was hearing not one, but two steps of footsteps coming up the path. He could hear the familiar light thump of El’s converse, but they were paired with another set that he couldn’t identify right away.

Again, it was strange, but Jim assumed that it was probably Max. It wasn’t completely uncommon for El to bring Max home with her on Friday nights, if her step dad was in a bad mood, or Billy had decided to show his face for the weekend. So while it wasn’t how it usually went, he had a logical explanation for it.

The fourth and final sign, and the sign that had Jim jumping up from the couch was the additional voice that he heard when the door finally opened, didn’t belong to Max. Oh no, it didn’t belong to Max at all. It was low and deep and definitively boy.

“Dad! I’m home!” El’s familiar greeting rang out moments later, but unlike most evenings when Hopper was still on the couch, this time he was in the doorway of the entryway as the words left her mouth. A small smug smile was on her face as she caught sight of him.

Little shit.

“Oh, hi dad.” Hopper simply gave El a nod before directing attention to the boy standing next to her. The boy who was gripping the strap of backpack with white knuckles and looked like he was going to pass out any minute.

“Who are you?” Hopper asked, giving the boy a pointed look. The boy gulped and Hopper could see him rocking anxiously back and forth on his feet. If Hopper didn’t know any better he would think this boy was some kind of criminal who he was questioning.

“Dad, this is Mike.” El said, even though Hopper hadn’t asked her. The boy simply nodded, a terrified look on his face. The boy’s eyes were wide and Hopper could practically feel the fear and anxiety.

It was in that moment when Hopper took and deep breath and made a decision.

“Nice to meet you, Mike.” Hopper said, giving the kid, Mike, a nod. He wasn’t really one for handshakes, so he settled for reaching out and clapping him on the shoulder.

He could see El beaming out of the corner of his eye. Mike however, looked confused and still slightly terrified, but he wasn’t moving around as much anymore and his grip seemed to have loosened on his backpack strap. Hopper considered this as much as a victory as anything else.

“It’s getting pretty late. Mike, why don’t you go up and take a shower. Towels are behind the door. When you’re done, El can show you were the guest bedroom is.”

Mike still looked confused, but Hopper could see his shoulders drop, like he let out a breath that he was holding and he gave Hopper a shaky smile.

“Uh, thank you, um, sir. I really appreciate it.” Hopper had to admit that he liked that the kid had manners. “You don’t have to do this but I really appreciate it, I don’t even need to actually stay, I can leave. I really appreciate it though.”

Hopper had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, kid sure could ramble.

“Mike, it’s fine. Go upstairs.” With that, Mike nodded, ducking his head down, a moving as quickly as he could out of the entryway and up the stairs. As soon as Mike had disappeared out of sight and was making noise in the upstairs bathroom, Hopper rounded on his daughter.

El was still standing there looking as unashamed as ever.

“El.”

She smiled at him, one of her hands reaching up to twirl a section of her hair. Hopper knew that look and as much sympathy as he had for the kid, he didn’t think El could get away with letting strange teenage boys come over to their house.

“Wanna explain to me what the hell that was all about?” El’s face fell slightly and Hopper crossed his arms across his chest, his eyebrows raised.

“Dad, you should have seen him.” El’s voice was quiet and not for the first time that night, Hopper’s heart twisted in his chest. “I’ve never seen someone look so sad and alone before.”

There was a moment of silence between them, El looking pensive, her bottom lip between her teeth. Hopper, on the other hand, was reflecting back to just a couple years ago when he had thought the same thing about El and had brought her home with him.

Like father, like daughter.

“El, you know why I’m upset about this right?” Hopper asked, leaning down slightly so he could look her in the eyes. His hands were on either of her shoulders, the usual stance he took when he was telling her something important and she nodded.

“Because he’s a stranger and we shouldn’t invite strangers over.” She pursed her lips. “And because even though it seems like everything is over, we need to be careful.”

Hopper nodded. “Exactly.” He moved one hand from her shoulder to ruffle her hair softly. “I appreciate that you have a good heart, kiddo, but we just gotta always be careful.”

“I know, I know.” El sighed. “But, I think that I can trust him.”

“What do you see when you look at him?” Hopper knew what El was talking about. He knew better than anyone that her ability to read people was like a sixth sense, or a superpower. Hell, sometimes he wished she worked down at the station with him so she could tell him if people were dirty criminals or not.

“I see someone who’s lost and alone and scared.” El’s voice cracked. “I see someone who just needs a place to go.”

She smiled sadly at him and Hopper gulped. Upstairs, he heard the shower shut off and he squared his shoulders. El was looking at him, her eyes wide. He knew that look.

“Go upstairs, show Mike where the guest room is and tell him we’ll talk about everything in the morning.” El nodded, quickly disappearing up the stairs. Hopper watched after her, his heart squeezing in his chest.

Hopper knew what he had to do.

When Mike woke up in the morning, at first he thought everything that had happened - the bus station, El, her scary father - had all been a dream. Waking up in a warm bed, staring at a blank white wall was something that Mike had become accustomed to, so when this particular morning started exactly the same, he didn’t think much of it.

But then, he rolled over, and with a slight panic, he sat up in bed.

For, he wasn’t in this familiar childhood bedroom, with it’s Star Wars posters, and academic trophies and various other knicknacks he’s acquired over the years. No, instead the walls of this room are blank, sans for a small picture of some landscape, and the only thing in here that belongs to him is the backpack that sits on a rocking chair in the corner, a towel thrown haphazardly across the back.

There’s a brief moment where all he hears is his mother’s voice in his ear, telling him to “hang up your wet towel, Michael, please” but he pushes the voice away with tear filled eyes with a shake of his head. Then the realization hits him, none of that has been a dream.

It all came back to him like a tidal wave.

He remembered his father’s empty words at the breakfast table just yesterday, it felt more like ages, and the unaffectionate squeeze to his shoulder, unlike the squeeze he had gotten from El’s father, which had been firm and reassuring. He remembered, with a tinge of guilt and sadness, the smiles of his friends as he waved goodbye to them as they parted. No doubt the phone at the Wheeler house would ring soon with Dustin or Lucas or Will on the other end, excitedly asking Mike to join them at the arcade or Castle Byers.

Too bad no one would be there to answer it.

Then his thoughts moved to El. El, who had brought him into her home and invited him to stay, even if just for a night. El, who hadn’t judged or questioned him, just offered him her understanding. El, with her kind eyes and bright smile.

He remembered, rather sheepishly, with a deep, warm blush splaying across his cheeks and back, the smile she had given him when she had knocked on the bathroom door. He had been embarrassed then, his pale skin turning bright red under her gaze as he desperately gripped the towel around his waist, praying that it wouldn’t fall. El hadn’t seemed to notice his embarrassment, merely guiding him to the guest bedroom and telling him to “sleep well” with a small grin.

(Honestly, El was probably the biggest reason he thought he was dreaming. Sure, it was crazy to think that he had run away from home, something he had never even thought of before. But there was absolutely no reality that Mike could conceptualize where a pretty girl, no scratch that, a downright beautiful girl, like El would ever give him the time of day, let alone smile at him the way she had).

A shiver ran down his spin at the mere memory of it. God, he wanted her to smile at him like that again.

Downstairs he heard a laugh, a deep and booming one. El’s dad.

El had told him the night before that her dad wanted to talk to him in the morning, no doubt to find out what happened and subsequently send him back to his dad. That’s what any normal adult would do, especially one who was a literal cop. With a slight panic, Mike tried to remember if running away from home was illegal, oh god, he was pretty sure it was. Did this mean he was going to be arrested?

Deciding to just get this over with, Mike pushed himself up from the bed, groaning when his feet hit the cold hardwood. The small clock on the bedside table told him that it was almost nine, and his stomach growled loudly. He hoped that El’s dad would at least maybe give him something to eat because shoving him in the back of his cruiser and transporting him back to Hawkins.

Throwing on his jeans from yesterday, Mike made sure that all his stuff was in his backpack before shouldering it and quickly exiting the bedroom and going downstairs.

He followed the noises of soft conversation through the house and into the kitchen. There he found El and her dad, helpings of eggs and bacon and waffles spread out on the table in front of them. His mouth watered at the sight.

“Mike! You’re up!” El exclaimed when she saw him, giving him a wide smile. Mike couldn’t help but grin back at her, his heart picking up pace in his chest. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Y-y-yeah.” Mike said, mentally kicking himself for apparently not being able to talk like a normal human being. But really, it wasn’t his fault that El was impossibly gorgeous for nine o’clock in the morning that it literally rendered him speechless. That was on her, not him.

“Good. I’m very glad to hear it.” At this point Mike was pretty sure he was just standing there staring and smiling at her like an absolute idiot. He, also, probably would have continued to do so if her dad didn’t clear his throat from his place at the counter.

Both teenagers jumped slightly, El recovering quickly and spinning in her chair to look at her dad while Mike had to take a small breath before directing his attention to the burly police chief who, despite his kindness yesterday, Mike was still very much afraid of.

“El, can you give me and your pal, Mike, a couple minutes to talk.” The words weren’t spoken as a question, but El still nodded and got up from her seat. When she passed Mike on her way out of the kitchen, she gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“You’ll be fine, I promise.” She whispered, reaching out and squeezing his arm. Even though he wasn’t quite sure he believed her, her words did bring him comfort and he relaxed his shoulders a little bit as she left the room. However, now he was left alone with her scary dad, and he was pretty much totally terrified.

“You hungry?” Her dad asked, gesturing to the food in front of him. “I’m pretty sure El didn’t eat all of it. Kid sure knows how to eat, you’d never know by looking at her, but I think she was purposefully restraining herself so there’d be some left over for you.” He pauses for a second. “Come on kid, put your bag down and come sit down, I’m not gonna bite.”

Blushing, Mike drops his bag down on the floor with an unceremonious thud and slips into the chair that El had just abandoned. Her half empty plate is in front of him, syrup drowning a waffle and eggs scattered around the edges of the plate. Hesitantly, he picks up the extra fork that’s been placed on the countertop and puts a couple of pieces of egg into his mouth.

“Listen, kid -” El’s dad starts once Mike’s taken a couple of bites and Mike feels his leg begin to bounce ferociously under the counter, causing his chair to begin to shake. He already doesn’t like where this is going.

“I’m sorry.” Mike blurts, not one hundred percent sure what it is he’s apologizing for. El’s dad doesn’t seem to have a clue either, based on the confused look that takes over his features. “Sorry, sir, I don’t know I’m apologizing for, but I’m sorry. Sir.”

“Mike.” The older man stops Mike’s word with a simple movement of his hand. “It’s okay. Also, you can drop the ‘sir’, makes me sound old.” Mike tries so hard to make sure that his features don’t betray his slight amusement, luckily, El’s dad pushes on. “Hopper is just fine.”

Hopper, god, even El’s last name was absolutely adorable.

“Ok, sorry Hopper, I mean, uh, I’m not sorry?” Mike can already tell this conversation is going to be an absolute trainwreck. He just wants Hopper to rip the bandaid off so he can put Mike out of his horrible, awkward misery.

Hopper chuckles lightly with a small shake of his head. “Listen, Mike.” Mike gulps. “El seems to think very highly of you despite the fact that you two have only known each other for nine hours.” Mike feels his skin burn with blush at Hopper’s words, praying to god that Hopper doesn’t pick up on why, even though he probably most definitely does. “And I trust her judgement on most things, and I want to help you.”

That’s definitely not what he had been expecting. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Mike’s not totally sure, Hopper doesn’t give Mike any real time to determine what he means by “help” and Mike is going to have to do to get it. He continues speaking before Mike has time to form any kind of response.

“But, I can’t help you if I don’t know anything. Now, I don’t know how much you told El, she didn’t tell me anything outside of the fact that your name is Mike and she found you in the bus station.” Mike felt his cheeks blush, cursing himself for having such a reaction when El’s name was mentioned. “So, I just want to know what your story is, kid. You don’t have to tell me anything, I don’t need all the gory details, but I do need something.”

Mike took a deep, shaky breath. Despite the fact that everything that had happened with his mom and sister had happened months ago, he had never said anything about it to anyone. It had been such big news in Hawkins that he never had to, everyone just kind of knew, which meant Mike never had to talk about it. After the whole thing had become old news, something dramatic and gossip worthy taking its place - Mrs. Kingston sleeping with her son’s middle school English teacher definitely got the town talking, and was more fun to whisper about then the untimely death of a mother and her young daughter.

“I...um….” The words caught in Mike’s throat. He could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and rubbed them, not wanting to start crying in front of El’s father. He cleared his throat, desperate to chase the incoming sob away. He thought about the words that he wanted to say, the words he wanted to scream from a rooftop.

My mom and sister are dead. It’s my fault and no one would miss me if I was gone, so I left.

The words fail to come though and instead Mike feels his heartbeat begin to increase and he feels like he can barely breathe. His breaths are coming out shaky and his vision is blurring and he wonders how long it will be before he passes out. There’s a firm hand on his shoulder, however and Mike lifts his eyes to see El’s dad looking at him, concern swimming in his eyes.

“It’s alright, kid.” He says, squeezing Mike’s shoulder. “You don’t need to tell me the story if it’s too hard, I get it.” Mike nodded, wordlessly, grateful for the older man’s kindness. “I gotta ask you though.”

“Yeah.” Mike croaks, tears hot and thick in his throat.

“Anyone know you’re gone?” Mike thinks back to his empty, cold house. He thinks about Holly’s closed bedroom door. Nancy’s neatly made bed that hasn’t been slept in for months. He thinks about the cold engine of his mom’s station wagon.

He shakes his head. Hopper sighs.

“Will anyone be coming to look for you?” Biting his lip, Mike ponders this. He knows the guys will notice he’s gone, but he doesn’t know how hard they’ll look for him. He doubts they’ll call the police, especially not in this area. His dad on the other hand?

His dad doesn’t even notice him when he’s there, he doubts his dad will notice he’s gone.

“No.” Mike says softly after a second, wiping at his face where he feels wet tear tracks. His eyes don’t look up to meet Hopper’s, but the hand on his shoulder squeezes again.

“El, get in here I know you’re out there.” Mike glances towards the door, where El pops out from behind the door frame. She looks unashamed that she was caught, quickly making her way over to Mike’s side. He quickly wipes at his face and sits up, slightly embarrassed that she probably totally saw him crying.

However, El merely smiles at him. He can’t help but give her a small, sad, grin back.

“Did you decide?” She asks softly, looking to her dad, expantly. Mike feels his eyebrows come together in confusion. Decide what? Something about him? Had El and her dad been talking about him?

Hopper sighs, moving his hand from Mike’s shoulder. He crosses his arms across his chest and nods. “I did.”

“And?” Mike’s eyes flick to El, who has an eyebrow raised. She looks almost like she’s challenging her dad. Mike gulps. He still doesn’t really know what they’re talking about, but considering the way Hopper’s eye are now looking at him, Mike has a very big feeling it has to do with him.

“I think Mike should stay with us for a while.”

If Mike had been confused before, it was nothing compared to now. In fact, at first he was pretty sure that he had misheard Hopper, or imagined the words that had come out of his mouth. He sat up in his seat, leaning forward across the table.

“What?”

Hopper rested his forearms on the table, looking at Mike. “Look, kid. I’m not saying that this is going to be a permanent thing or anything like that, but, I think it’s the best thing to do right now.”

Mike snuck a glance at El, who had a small smile on her face before directing his attention back to her dad. “I’m confused, why are you letting me stay here? Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but I don’t really understand why.”

“I know that when El let you stay here last night, she told you that she would take you back to the bus station today, am I right about that?” Mike nodded, wordlessly. “Do you have a plan for where you’re going?”

Mike opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, not wanting to lie. He shook his head.

“That’s why, kid. You have no idea where you’re going, and I can’t in good conscious let you go to the bus station when you don’t have any kind of plan.”

Mike supposed that made sense, but if that was the case then why wasn’t Hopper forcing him to go home? That was pretty much the last thing that he wanted, so he wasn’t going to argue, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t confused.

“But,” Hopper continued. “Hearing what I just heard from you about no one coming to look for you, I don’t think sending you back home is going to help anyone either. I’m not saying that I’m gonna let you live here forever, but I think you staying here is best until we can figure something out.”

“R-Really?” Hopper nodded.

“I may be a police officer, but I’m also a father.” Hopper’s eyes went to El and he smiled. “She was the one who wanted you to stay, I just agreed with her.”

Crinkling his eyebrows together, Mike looked up at El who merely shrugged. “I may have suggested it.” Not waiting for any kind of response from anyone, El then shuffled away from the table, grabbing Mike’s bag, which was still discarded on the floor. “I’m gonna go put this back in the guest room.”

Without another word, she darted from the room, disappearing out of sight. Hopper snorted and Mike feel a small smile making its way onto his face.

“You’ll get used to that.” Hopper said, pointing in the direction that El had just disappeared. “El, I mean. She’s a little weird, but you’ll get used to it.”

Mike could tell by his tone that Hopper was using ‘weird’ affectionately and he smiled, even though it squeezed at his heart a little bit. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever heard his dad say something like that about him. Looking down, he swallowed roughly, determined not to cry again.

“I would follow her if I were you. If you don’t intervene soon, she’s gonna unpack all of your stuff and put it in the last place you’d ever look for it.” When Mike looked at him, Hopper only could lift his eyebrows, taking a sip of his coffee. Taking the hint that Mike was supposed to leave the table now, he pushed back from his seat.

“Thank you.” Mike said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “For, uh, you know. Everything. Breakfast, letting me stay, you know.”

“It’s not a problem, Mike.”

“Well, I really appreciate it. I don’t want to be any kind of burden and I’ll leave whenever you want me to, sir.” Mike could feel himself on the verge of a ramble and clamped down on his tongue in an effort to resist continuing to blab.

Hopper held a hand up, stopping whatever Mike’s unfiltered brain was going to spew. “You’re not being a burden kid, alright.” Mike didn’t say anything, merely biting down on his lip and rocking back and forth on his heels. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He winced. “Thank you again, uh, sir.” He winced again. Deciding to just shut up, Mike nodded, turning away from the table and quickly retreating from the room.

“Hey Mike,” He spun slowly on his heels. Was Hopper already regretting his offer? “If you’re gonna live here, you gotta stop calling me sir.” Because he didn’t know what else to do at this point, Mike could only laugh slightly. “Now, I’m serious, get out of here.”

Turning back around on his heels, Mike hurried from the room and made his way to the stairs. He could hear El upstairs, no doubt doing what Hopper had just warned him about and Mike smiled.

He had a very good feeling about this.

tag list: @mikewheeler, @mikeweezers, @dancingskygreen, @somerainbows, @strangerdoggos, @the-fandom-queen-28, @michael-hearteyes-wheeler, @stydixa, @fatechica, @janeswheeler (some of y’all said you wanted to be tagged and other people i just love u and admire u so i tagged u, feel free to tell me if u don’t want to be tagged in the future)

#mileven #mileven fic #mileven fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic*#i'm so excited abt this #i'm really loving writing this so far so i'm happy some of y'all are so excited about it #it makes me excited #thank u for all of the support love y'all

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takealottodragmeawayfromreddie · 6 years

Text

Filling the blanks - Chapter 4

Pairing: Richie x Eddie x Bill (Reddie at the start).

Summary: During his last moments, Eddie realized he had something to say, but before he could finish the sentence, he was gone. Now he’s stuck between life and death and he knows he won’t be able to rest until he takes care of what he started. The only person he trusts enough to help him is Bill.

Or: The ghost AU where Eddie’s spirit can get inside of Bill’s mind to ask him for help to tell Richie he loved him.

Warnings: Canon Divergence (IT actually kills Audra) and, of course, death of major character. Some really heavy internalized homophobia in this chapter. Like, really heavy. Even some use of the F word that isn’t “fuck”. So, yeah, please be careful, the whole point of this fic is to make y’all have a good time, not triggering you <3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

AO3 link

Playlist on Spotify (mostly songs about Heaven and duel related stuff and 1980s hits)

And, as always, shout out to my beta reader @golden-marauders. Without their help, Richie would have a big obsession with coffee tables on this chapter. They’re amazing and super patient with me.

“Yeah?” Richie’s tired voice comes from the speaker of the electric doorbell.

Bill isn’t aware of what he had just done until he hears him. Before that, he simply pushed the button and waited for something to happen. It doesn’t feel that meaningful. But now, now that he knows Richie is there and there’s no way of going back, it all acquires a new importance. It’s weird how so many little actions like getting an airplane ticket, sitting on a plane and taking a cab can sum up to become such a transcendental experience. That’s all it takes to end forty years of denial. And a paper boat can be enough to break a family.

“Who’s there?” Richie insists, openly annoyed.

Bill clears his throat and notices Eddie’s difficult breathing in the back of his mind.

“H-hi, Rich. It’s B-Bill and…”

Wait. Not yet.

“It’s Bill,” he corrects himself.

Richie doesn’t say anything.

“B-Bill Denbrough. From… D-Derry.”

Bill licks his lips as they both wait patiently. Is a week all it takes? They can’t be sure. Being together, it’s obvious they won’t forget. But Richie is alone, and maybe he’s perfectly capable of moving on that fast.

“R-Remember?”

This time, Richie sighs.

“Yeah, of course. Give me a second.”

Suddenly, the gate starts vibrating.

“Come in.”

Bill nods as if Richie could see him and pushes the door open. It’s heavy. When he comes in and hears it closing behind him, he finds out everything in that house seems heavy, grandiloquent, exaggerated. The garden is way too big. Not even that complex, with lots of flowers or fountains or shrubs with animal shapes. Just plain large; foot after foot of short grass, healthy and bluish under the moonlight, and a broad way of gravel zigzagging all the way to the front porch. There’s probably a pool in the backyard, but this side of the house looks huge and vaguely upsetting. Vaguely empty.

They make it to the door and Richie is standing there. Bill can tell Eddie is nervous because he feels it in his own stomach and often finds himself fighting against the instinct of running away as he keeps moving forward.

“Calm down,” he warns him in a low voice.

Sorry.

The yellow light that comes from the inside through the open door, makes Richie look like a shadow, so it’s impossible to imagine how he’s feeling until they’re face to face with him. It’s a mixture of a well-received surprise and the expected fear of this meeting being about bad news.

“Hey,” he says, obviously trying to play it cool.

“H-hey,” Bill replies, scratching the back of his head.

They get quiet for a brief moment, Richie awkwardly looking around in search of something to say that can interrupt such a dense silence.

“It’s… good to see you again, Big Bill.”

The familiar nickname catches him off guard. It almost takes him back to the town they grew up in, where they went through the most traumatic experiences they could have imagined, where they learned that no one cared about anything. Where they lost two friends.

“I’m glad to s-see you, too, R-Richie,” he smiles, but it doesn’t seem genuine.

Richie nods, chuckling a bit. His content laugh fades away when he remembers what happened.

“I heard about your wife… I mean, not that I had to hear about it, I was there, but, you know. Everyone is talking about it on T.V. and... it sucks. It really sucks. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t get the chance to tell you I’m sorry back then.”

He gives Bill a small pat on the shoulder and Bill can’t help but smiling with sadness because of such a friendly gesture.

“I’m s-sorry, too. Thank you.”

“No problem. Just keep moving forward and you’ll be fine. It’s all about surviving.”

“W-well,” he says, staring at his feet, “It’s always been about sur-surviving, r-right?”

He notices Richie has gotten tense. It’s clear that they’re taking this ‘grown-up conversation’ way too far for him. He takes his time to talk again and, when he does, Bill can tell he’s trying to take weight out from the whole thing.

“It’s getting kind of chilly, don’t you think? Wanna come inside and… I don’t know, maybe have a beer or something?”

“I’ll say no to the b-beer, but I can… c-come in, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t. You’re lucky that all the strippers already left,” he jokes as they go into the house, “And I hope you don’t mind if I say yes to that beer.”

“Not at all, R-Rich.”

Richie closes the door behind them and Bill finds out he’s in the fanciest place he has ever seen. The interior of the building is even bigger, with a large corner sofa right in the middle of the living room, modern furniture like Barcelona chairs everywhere and a transparent coffee table along with them, and a huge kitchen integrated to the landscape. The dominant colors are black and white and several pieces of contemporary art —that Richie probably despises secretly— hang from the tall walls.

Astonished by the luxuries that surround them, Bill walks towards the couch and sits down, while Richie goes to the fridge and gets his beer.

“You sure you don’t want one?” he asks, not looking at him.

“No, t-thank you.”

“Alright, you’re the guest. But I wouldn’t sit there if I were you. Actually, I wouldn’t sit anywhere in this house.”

“W-why?”

“If something is in my house, I probably fucked someone on it.”

Before Bill can process what he just heard, his body stands up.

That’s it. I’m leaving.

“No!” He exclaims, louder than he intended to sound.

Richie stares at him from the kitchen, beer in hand and eyes wide open.

“Shit, I was kidding. I love that couch. I wouldn’t fuck anyone on it.”

Both Bill and Eddie sigh with relief and sit down again.

“Chill out, man,” Richie continues, “You look like you just—”

“Heard a ghost?”

“I was gonna say ‘saw’ but okay, you’re the writer.”

After shrugging, Richie goes back to the living room, sets the bottle on the coffee table and takes a seat next to Bill.

“Uh… you’ve got a… a n-nice house,” Bill comments, not sure of how to start a conversation.

Richie’s eyes seem to light up.

“Oh, why, thank you, Billy, my darling!” He answers, in a ridiculous southern belle voice, “Momma will be so pleased to know you find the family farm quite this—”

“Beep beep, R-Richie,” he chuckles.

They share a quick laugh. Bill can hear Eddie laughing, too. It feels so much like the old times he’s certain that he would be crying, if they weren’t busy enjoying the moment. But it doesn’t last long. As soon as the importance of the real reason they are there comes to light again, he stops. And Richie must feel the new atmosphere of seriousness, because he stops, too.

“Hey, I don’t wanna look like a bad host or anything, but… what brings you to my humble abode?”

It’s time. This isn’t a casual visit, and Richie knows it. He has to tell him the truth or give Eddie the space to say it himself. He waits a few seconds, but nothing happens. Eddie, who just instants ago was controlling him to leave because of a disgusting joke, is nowhere to be seen or heard. He won’t even talk.

“It’s…” Richie says, his grin falling and turning into a worried expression, “Everything’s fine, right? It’s not… It isn’t… Everything’s just… fine, isn’t it? I mean, we tore Its heart out. We…”

Bill soon gets what Richie is thinking.

“Oh, no, of… of course. It’s not about… It’s d-dead. It won’t c-come back.”

“Oh, great,” Richie exhales, relieved, “Well, you could have said that first, don’t you think?”

“S-sorry, I guess I’m a bit… n-nervous,” he smiles.

“Nervous? Why?”

Bill stares down at his own hands, fingers intertwined on his lap, foot tapping the carpet.

“I… Y-you know, with everything… what happened to A-Audra. We were… we were making a m-movie and now… Now I’ve got to talk to p-producers and get a new… a new actress or… cancel the p-project.”

“Oh, so… business trip, huh?”

“Yeah, buh-business trip. And I… I thought I could visit ‘cause… Well, we for-forgot once. We could make thing d-different this… this time. Like… keep in touch.”

This is not going like they planned. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But Richie seems so genuinely glad because he thought about continue with their friendship, that he doesn’t have the heart to rain on his parade. Maybe it’s better that way. He needs Richie to trust him as much as he can, if he wants the whole ‘unfinished business’ thing to work out.

“Uh…” Richie replies, “Yeah, why not? I mean, Bev kinda wanted to do something similar. She gave me her number and all. You know we were really—”

“C-close. Yeah, I know,” he nods, “So, have you… called her?”

“Nah, I don’t know if I will.”

“W-why?”

“She probably changed all her ways of contact, after… Well, after all the shit that sick fuck did to her. And she’s gonna marry Haystack, remember? They’re even looking for a baby. Even though I’d be the most amazing uncle ever, families aren’t my thing. They deserve their cute, suburban life, without someone to remind them of… of what happened. I guess the past is in the past for a reason… Shit, that’s deep.”

“It really is, R-Rich,” Bill chuckles, “But I don’t… I don’t think you’re right about t-that.”

“About what?”

“F-families not being your… your thing.”

“Oh, Bill, come on. ‘Hey, Haystack Jr., look, it’s Uncle Trashmouth!’ and I show up wasted and with two models in short dresses under each arm. Can you imagine?”

He shakes his head while frantically laughing, and Bill can’t help but laugh, too.

“It doesn’t sound that b-bad,” he jokes.

“No, you don’t get it. It’s Haystack Jr.’s birthday party. He’s turning five and all his friends from kindergarten are there! And then I try to hit on his super-hot teacher and pass out on the cake.”

“Okay, you’d be the w-worst uncle ever,” he agrees, still laughing, “But that doesn’t mean f-families aren’t your thing.”

“What makes you think that?”

“R-Richie, we are family. We always… we always were. Since f-forever. And you were always t-there for me. For… for everyone.”

Something changes in Richie’s face when he says that. His features get softer, sadder. He looks down and Bill knows, in that moment, that he broke his shell.

“Not for everyone,” Richie mumbles, and reaches out to get his beer and give it a sip.

“W-what… what do you mean?”

His friend laughs bitterly.

“We were the lucky seven. How many of us are still around?”

“Rich…”

“How many of us are still around, Bill?” He insist, a little more firmly.

“F-five, but—”

“That’s right, five!” He settles his beer back on the table with a loud noise and stands up, “Five of seven. Fucking five of seven.”

“R-Richie, that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Oh, it doesn’t?”

“Of c-course it doesn’t!” he snaps, “We had a d-decision to make. You and I decided to c-come back, Stan decided to… to run away. That doesn’t m-make him better or worse, but it was his… his choice.”

“Oh, right, it was his choice. And what about what Eddie chose? Did he chose what happened to him, too?”

“W-well… yeah. No one f-forced him to—”

“Don’t give me that shit. It was us who were staring at the deadlights. It was us who left him alone, even knowing he was like a lost fucking puppy.”

“That’s b-bullshit! He wasn’t like… like that. What he did was b-brave.”

“Yeah, and you really taught him how to be brave, didn’t you? You really taught how to not give a shit.”

“Eddie didn’t n-need me to teach him how to be b-brave, ‘cause he was!”

“And how did he end? Huh, Bill, how did he end? What did ‘being brave’ bring to him?”

“He s-saved us.”

“Don’t say that.”

“W-why not? He did!”

“No, fuck you. Don’t turn his death into a poetic sacrifice or something like that. This is not one of your novels. He was coughing blood, Bill! It was dirty, it was disgusting, it was everything he hated… And we left him there. You made me leave him there.”

“W-what was I supposed to do? Carry his… his body out of the f-fucking sewers? It was still alive! It had my w-wife. My wife was still… a-alive.”

“And where she is now? Cool, we killed It, when are your wife and your brother coming back to life? When are Stan and Eddie coming back to life?”

Bill doesn’t answer. He just stares up at Richie, who was walking around the coffee table until a few seconds ago, and is now standing in front of him. By the look in his eyes, Bill can tell he regrets what he said. And of course he’s mad. Damn, he’s infuriated. He wants to punch Richie on his stupid face for all the poisonous things that come from his mouth.

But this is not about Richie. He needs to remember this is not about Richie. It’s about Eddie and, even if Richie doesn’t want to see him like that, for Bill, Eddie is a hero and his sacrifice was the most poetic and worthy thing ever.

Richie sighs.

“Shit, man,” he says, rubbing his temples, “That was a shitty thing to say. I’m sorry.”

“It’s a-alright, Rich.”

“I’m just…” He sits down beside him once more, “Look, I really don’t wanna talk about Eds, okay? I just don’t wanna think about him.”

“Maybe that means we should… we should start t-talking about it.”

“No, I really don’t—”

“Maybe you s-should.”

“Why?”

“It’ll make you feel b-better.”

“I’ll feel better when I can’t remember anything of this shit.”

“But you can… f-feel better now.”

Richie groans, exasperated, and stands up.

“Ugh, you really want me to talk about my feelings? Fine, I’ll tell you how I feel. Take notes to use it in one of your stupid books, if you want.”

Bill nods in signal of being prepared to listen.

“Here’s how I feel,” Richie continues, “I feel like a fucking asshole, okay? That’s exactly how I feel: like a fucking asshole.”

“R-Richie—”

“No, listen to me. Remember when we met again? When we all, except Stan, were there? Everyone was excited. I mean, yeah, it was the worst situation possible, but we were glad to see each other again. ‘Cause we were best friends and we missed each other. Well, wanna know how I felt when I saw him?”

He makes a pause and Bill doubts if he’s waiting for an answer before telling him. However, Richie keeps talking without any confirmation.

“I was disappointed. I was so fucking disappointed I wanted to… I don’t know, to go back home!”

Bill feels a flip on his stomach and that’s the only way he can tell Eddie hasn’t left. He rubs his own shoulder in an attempt of comforting him.

“I was disappointed ‘cause I remembered everything. How ‘brave’ he was. How he didn’t take shit from anyone, not even me. He always spoke his mind and called me out when he thought I was being an idiot. Damn, when we were kids, I’m sure he could have bit my fingers off if I tried to pinch his cheek on a bad day.

”He even told his mom to fuck off when he found out about all the lies she told him. And you know how scared of that woman he was. Eds basically… feared nothing. But he changed. You can’t tell me he was the same when we met again.”

“Of c-course he wasn’t. So many… so many y-years…”

“No. It’s not about growing up. He didn’t grow up; he gave up.”

“W-what are you—?”

“He gave up, Bill! He grew softer. After all the shit that woman did to him, he ran right under her boot again when he had the chance. He yelled at her and then apologized, and looked after her ‘till she died. I heard him talking to his wife on the phone when we were in Derry. She’s the fucking same person his mother was! She controlled him in the same way his mother did. And he took it. And he told her he loved her and couldn’t wait to go back to her. Thirteen years old Eddie wouldn’t take that. He would fight back. And then I realized that that Eddie didn’t exist anymore… and I felt so disappointed. I couldn’t believe he allowed the world to tame him.”

I didn’t mean to leave. I didn’t mean to do anything of that.

It’s the first time Eddie speaks in a while, and Bill knows he expects him to say that out loud. But Richie is not over yet.

“And then he… Then he kicked Bowers’ ass. He killed him. And he went and died for us. I know he died for us, okay? I just don’t wanna think about it. And I felt… and now I feel like an asshole. ‘Cause I felt disappointed on a friend that gave his life for mine. There, that’s how I feel. Are you happy now?”

Bill, tell him I didn’t mean to leave. Please.

“H-he didn’t mean to leave, R-Richie.”

Richie looks confused.

“What?”

I made a promise.

“He made a p-promise.”

“A promise?”

She didn’t want me to hang out with you guys anymore. She wanted to lock me away from everyone.

“His mom. His mom didn’t want him to… to s-see us.”

“What the—”

I promised her I’d took every pill and be with her forever if she…

“He p-promised her he… he’d do whatever she w-wanted…”

Didn’t make me get away from you.

“If she didn’t… make him get a-away from… from us.”

Richie thinks it over. His expression is skeptical, but Bill knows he’s trying to process it. He isn’t opposed to trust him and what he’s saying, it’s just that it’s not only hard to believe, but it also feels so far away. Bill has been with Eddie this whole week, his questions were answered and he had time to digest all the new information.

For Richie, who spent all these days alone and is consciously waiting to forget and resume his life, the events around It must feel, at best, like an odd dream he doesn’t want to remember. Being face to face with what happened has to be a big shock. They all thought it was over, and now it proves it will stay with them for years, even if they can’t put their finger on what is going on.

“How…” Richie begins, and Bill holds his breath, “How do you know that?”

“Uh… S-sorry?”

“How do you know about that? How can you know about that promise Eddie supposedly made?”

That’s it. If he keeps waiting for the right moment, it will never come. The right moment is now.

“’Cause Eddie… Eddie is not g-gone.”

Richie takes his time to answer.

“Fuck, really? You’re giving me the ‘he will live forever in our hearts’ speech? That’s why you came here?”

“No, R-Richie, you don’t… you don’t get it.”

“I totally get it. Alright, the man is dead, he was our friend, it sucks. Poor guy, seriously, what a shitty way to go. But he’s gone and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“H-he’s not gone. Lis-listen to me—”

“You’re the one who wanted to care for the people who are still around. I don’t say it in an ‘it’s all your fault’ way. I mean, you’re right, let’s worry about the living, that’s the best thing to do. And… I’m a Christian, too, you know? Okay, the worst Christian ever, but I still am. If believing that those who left are somewhere and look after us is your thing, that’s amazing. But I—”

“I-I’m not giving you the… the f-fucking ‘he lives in our h-hearts’ speech, id-idiot,” Bill interrupts him, frustrated, “I can literally hear him in my… h-head.”

Richie frowns. Until now, the tone of his voice has been empathetic, almost amused, like he thinks Bill is going through a denial phase and he doesn’t want to break his bubble. Like he’s so over this all that listening to Bill talking about Eddie still being around awakes his compassion. Now, that compassion is gone. He stays in silence for an instant, he takes a few steps back, and everything that’s left is perplexity.

“What?” He questions.

“I know it’s hard to b-believe, but… Eddie’s here. Here,” he taps his own temple with his index finger, “He’s inside my… my head.”

“Uh… are you into scientology or another crazy celebrity cult? ‘Cause this sounds like cult stuff.”

“N-no, please, listen. Eddie d-died, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t leave. He still had something to d-do on… on Earth.”

“Oh, so you are into a cult. Okay, won’t judge you, I just… It’s scientology, right?”

“Will you just h-hear me out, please?”

“I just wanna know if it’s scientology!”

“No, I’m not into fucking s-scien-—”

“Scientology,” he finishes, pointing at him.

“What-whatever, I’m not. J-just listen. E-Eddie got into my b-body because he had to… to do something. And that’s why I’m h-here.”

“Buddhism!” He exclaims.

“No! F-fuck, no, you don’t even know what B-Buddhism is ab-about, do you?”

“I first thought about Judaism, but Stan was Jewish and he never got possessed or anything like that.”

“Fucking God…”

“Are you sure it isn’t scientology?”

Bill groans and stands up.

“I’m not a fucking s-scien-scientologist! This isn’t… This isn’t r-religious stuff or cult stuff or w-whatever you said. I’m telling you the truth! A f-few days ago, Eddie got into my body and asked for my help. He said he wanted to leave, but… h-he couldn’t. He has un-unfinished business and he won’t rest ‘till he takes c-care of it. It has something to… something to do with you and that’s why I came. I’m just trying to h-help him.”

“Man, are you okay? You want me to call someone or anything? Are you doing drugs?”

“He’s here r-right now.”

“’Cause let me tell you, drugs aren’t cool at all, okay? If your friends pressure you to take them, they’re not your friends.”

“He’s hearing this whole c-conversation.”

“Bill, I won’t ask you again, put all your drugs on the table.”

“Please, R-Richie! You’ve got to listen. He… he needs you to l-listen.”

Richie growls.

“Okay! If it means that much for you, tell me. C’mon, tell me what ‘Eddie needs me to know’. I’m sure it’s gonna be bullshit.”

“Y-you’re such an idiot! He was in love with you!” Bill snaps.

This time, he seems to reach the part of Richie that has been hiding during the whole meeting. Sure, he had his emotional moments, but now he looks so hurt, so enraged, Bill starts thinking he’d be capable of committing murder at this point.

“Excuse me?”

Bill crosses his arms over his chest. Even though he is scared, he has to stay firm.

“W-what I said.”

Richie takes a deep breath, as he’s trying to calm down. He probably doesn’t want to harm him and has to put a lot of effort into controlling himself.

“If that was supposed to be a joke, you should leave the comedy to me, Big Bill.” He quietly warns.

Bill gulps, building up enough courage to not withdraw what he’s saying.

“It’s not… it’s not a joke.”

“Bill, really, take that back. This isn’t fucking funny.”

“It’s not a j-joke!”

“Look, I’m really trying here, alright? I’m trying not to break your nose for this, ‘cause you’re my friend and I care for you and I know you’re going through some heavy shit right now. But if you don’t—”

“J-just think about it! Why… why would I l-lie to you? W-we fought an… an evil demon clown! Is this… That’s not harder to be-believe?”

“No, it’s not fucking harder to believe! I saw that thing, It was there, It killed people. But you’re telling me our dead friend is inside your body or whatever and that he was…”

“I-in love with you,” he completes, soft and careful.

The words still affect Richie like the first time he pronounced them. It’s like Richie is sticking to his common sense, looking for a logic explanation, and every time Bill tells him Eddie loved him, it goes past his rational side and goes straight to his unconsciousness. He is not ready to accept it, but he knows it.

Despise this, it doesn’t pulls him out from his anger for too long.

“Okay, you’re asking for it,” he tells him, a look of determination and fury in his eyes as he walks towards Bill, rolling up his sleeves.

Bill wants to stand there and use his words, try to bring Richie back to his senses without physical violence. But during his attempt to be polite, a fist gets shot against the air, and it passes so close to his face he realizes talking is not an option.

Luckily, Richie had a beer and is upset, while Bill remains sober and functional, so his reflexes are enough for him to bend and avoid another punch.

“P-please, you’ve got to—” he begs, taking the first chance he gets to run away from his reach.

“Shut up!” Richie shouts, going after him and throwing more arbitrary hits that never touch him.

They trot around the couches and chairs of the living room, even walking over them when it’s necessary. Bill knows Richie is not at his best form. When they were kids, it would have been a very tough fight and any of them could have won, but now Bill is sure he’s capable of sending his friend to the hospital.

He doesn’t have a reason to escape. Also, escaping wouldn’t be a hard thing to do. If he hurries, he can get to the door and Richie won’t ever be able to find him.

There’s a lot of things he could do, but only one will help Eddie.

“R-Richie, I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna fight with y-you…” He says when he’s at a safe distance.

“Oh, you don’t wanna fight?” Richie mocks him, shortening the gap between them, “Sure, you’re so over this, aren’t you? You’re so fucking mature. Well, if you really wanna be a man, then come here and fucking fight like one!”

Bill is cornered now. His back is touching the front door —subtly palming the doorknob, in case he can’t no longer control the situation— and he can smell the alcohol in Richie’s breath and feel his hands grabbing his collar. They’re in pause, no more pulling or throwing fists, but it won’t last. They both know it won’t last.

“I-I’m not gonna fight you. I… I won’t. You’re my f-friend.”

“Then why are you doing this, Bill? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you… I don’t know, are you gay for me? You want my dick or something? I mean, c’mon, your wife died like… a week ago! What do you want from me?”

“I’m not gay! I’m just… I’m trying to… to help E-Eddie.”

Richie reliefs a cynical laugh.

“You’re trying to help Eddie? How? What the hell are you talking about?!” he reclaims, shaking him.

“I already… t-told you. I promised I’d… I’d h-h-help him.”

His eyes are starting to burn, filling with tears that Richie doesn’t seem to mind. His fury is consuming him, turning him into someone else. If the term ‘monster’ applied for them like it applies for common people, that would be the word to describe him right now.

“You’re fucking crazy, Bill! I don’t know what this all about, why you’re trying to make me believe in your ghost bullshit or what do you want from me, but you’ll shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna hear anything and the least you can do now is saying you’re sorry.”

“S-sorry? For what?!”

“For spreading lies about him! You can’t say shit like that, he’s not here to defend himself!”

“But—”

“No, you listen! He was not a faggot, got it? Get it inside your fucking head: Eds was not a fag—!”

He doesn’t end the sentence. As soon as he tries to repeat the insult, Bill’s left hand raises and slaps him in the face so hard it makes him lose balance. So hard his fingers leave a red mark all over his cheek.

Bill wants to apologize. He’s mad, of course, but he didn’t mean to take it that far. He didn’t mean to do that. However, the expression of regret won’t come out. He can’t talk. He can’t move one single muscle. All he can do is stand there, staring at the prettified mess that is Richie at this moment, looking at him with wide eyes and his chest raising and falling agitatedly, as his feet make him go backwards, short and slow steps.

“Don’t call me that,” Bill’s voice murmurs, except that he didn’t order it to do that.

Richie watches, even more disconcerted than before, be it for the words themselves or for the fact he didn’t stutter once.

“W-what?” he asks, no trail of wrath in his tone.

Bill can see the bottom of his own frowned eyebrows as his chin raises in a gesture of challenge. His left fist is closed, but his right arm hangs against his body, not moving at all.

“I said don’t fucking call me that, Richie.”

Richie gulps, still touching the mark on the side of his face. His eyes look slightly wet.

“You know I…”

Silence.

C-come on, Eddie. You can d-do it. I know you can. I know how b-brave you are.

Bill’s lungs slowly fill up with air. Then his mouth exhales.

Richie is waiting.

“You know I love you.”

Tag list: @trippy-alexissss

I know there was more people who wanted to be tagged, but I lost the list with their urls so, if you want to be tagged, please let me know and I’m so sorry for these problems.

#tozenbrak #reddie #kaspbrough #bichie #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it (2017)#it (2019)#it (1990)#it (book)#it (movie)#the losers club #fanfic #my writing #filling the blanks

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ethompson928 · 6 years

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We are Bulletproof (BTS GANG AU) Part 24

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

"Don't freeze on me." Jimin laughed as he escorted Ally into the busy reception room of a fancy embassy. His hand ghosted the small of her back as they approached a lonely steward.

"I won't if you don't." Ally muttered under her breath as the man turned to them face and gently bowed. The two respectfully copying his actions.

"You're invitation please." He said politely, slightly outstreaching his white gloved hand.

Jimin tucked his hand inside his suit jacket and pulled out a small rectangular shape card. He passed it over to the steward who inspected it closely.

"Welcome Mr and Mrs Lee. Do enjoy the party." He moved out of the way to allow them to pass without a doubt.

Guests milled about the entrance hall and made small talk with each other. Men dressed in tuxedos moved about like water between the invited guests holding trays filled with champagne in crystal flutes and various little entreés. Ally allowed her eyes to wander as she observed the behaviour of the rich elite of Korea. Jimin remained close by playing the part of the loving husband.

Light orchestral music played in the background setting the ambiance. Four young men and women (two of each) who if Ally had to wager a guess, she'd say they looked no older than 25, played various string instruments too absorbed in the music to notice the other guests.

Jimin quickly scooped up two glasses from the tray of a passing waiter and passed one off to Ally who wrinkled her nose as she smelt the bitterness of the bubbily, golden drink she now held in her possession.

Jimin gently turned Ally sideways to introduce her to another couple who had came over to chat. "This is my wife, Soo-Hee." He smiled looking at her fondly.

"Pleasure to meet you." Ally politely addressed the couple. They were middle-aged, very polite and formal and keen to meet new people who attended these parties.

To anyone else Ally and Jimin looked like a happily married couple, however they were anything but. Ally wanted nothing more than to rip off the blonde wig she had been forced to wear straight off her head, but she couldn't do that. She was here for a job. Inside this illustrious embassy there was a safe, her and Jimin were tasked with infiltrating the party and stealing the conrents of the safe - no suspicions, no casualties, Namjoon had warned. The hard part was getting in and out, the place was heavily guarded. Jimin was very calm, a small smirk on his face as he observed the room.

"Do you see what I see?" He asked Ally casually as he took a small sip from his glass.

Ally glanced around and looked through her peripheral vision. She took a quick mental note of the camera and guards. Jimin watched her with curiosity as he observed her examining the room. "Several security cameras, a guard stationed at the main staircase and two guards by the side doors. I'm guessing the safe isn't on this floor."

"Good girl, you're learning." Jimin praised as the two spoke in hushed tones to avoid suspicion. A small blush radiated Ally's cheeks as she listened to the compliment. An embarressed laugh quickly left her mouth. Biting her bottom lip she gently shook her head. Jimin smiled at her, gentky pulling the drink from her hand and placing both of their glasses onto the nearest side table and moved them both away.

"Ladies and gentlemen" a voice called. Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice. A tall man in a black suit stood at the bottom of the main stairway, his slick black had been combed right back, the lightest touch of gel could be seen under the light directly above his head and he too wore a pair of crisp white gloves like the attendee at the door. The room went from a small murmur to silence within seconds, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. "Thank you for your attention and my deepest apologies for interupting you. Our gracious host will greet you all shortly, in the meantime I hope you continue to enjoy the food and drink that are on offer." The music swiftly returned filling the silence left by the man as he swiftly turned and walked back up the stairs. The familiar murmur sound refilled the air again and people began to meander in different directions around the hall.

"We need to create a diversion." Jimin whispered as he leant into Ally's ear, so that no one else could hear, his warm breath tickling the side of her neck. Ally turned and looked him in shock after letting his words sink in.

"Oh no, I am not seducing the rich guy again!"

Jimin laughed out loud as if she just told a really funny joke. "Before you came along that used to be my job." A coy grin plastered on his face and Ally gave him a long look.

"I really can't tell if you're joking or not".

"I leave that for you to decide." He winked almost teasingly. "I have an idea" he said and briskfully walked off leaving Ally stunned and flustered. When she caught up to him at a quiet corner where there weren't too many people he smiled at her and twisted the top of his ring on his right hand ever so slightly and showed it to Ally. She almost didn't see it. She gave Jimin a confused look before looking back at the ring and ruffled her eyebrows together. She then took another long look at Jimin whose smile only seemed to get wider.

On top of the ring sat a very small, almost unnoticable (if you weren't looking for it), little needle. "Tae designed it, very proud so he is. He's very excited about it."

"You two seem very close" Ally commented.

Jimin flashed a brief smile nodding his head. "We've always been friends since the beginning. I had met Tae in school originally, we just clicked and it wasn't long after that we both found ourselves in Namjoon's gang. He's weird, I like him. Namjoon found him after he had some...family disputes." Jimin had paused, trying to think of the right words to use. "But that's not my story to tell." He sounded sad. A small, brief amount of sadness filled his eyes before they snapped back to normal. "I wanted to watch out for him and stay with him, he needdd that support. Our friendship kept growing and we're practically inseprable. He's like my little brother and I need to keep him safe. If Namjoon hadn't have found him in time and stepped in who knows where he would have ended up. But yes, we've both been very close. Practically brothers. I would do anything for him."

"I'm sure he would do the same for you" Ally told Jimin who looked at her and smiled sincerly nodding to show his thanks. He then guided her attention back to the small ring.

"This is filled with a highly concentrated shot of carisoprodol which is just enough to relax someones muscles and render them unconscious - just enough time to cause a distraction and sneak off."

Ally nodded trying so hard to follow along.

Jimin surveyed the group of people around him searchig for a suitable target, his eyes darting about until he smirked, quickly licked his bottom lip and subtly nodded to Ally so she could see who he picked.

Standing alone, just by the large statue in the middle of the room was a man, he was admiring the artwork in front of him looking deep in thought. Jimin casually turned the ring so that the needle was facing down towards the floor and approached the man.

"It's a wonderful piece." Jimin told the man who turned to look at him.

"Yes it is...and you are?" He asked skeptically.

"Oh I'm sorry where are my manners. I'm Lee Si Hyuk. Pleased to meet you and you are?" Jimin smiled extending his hand to shake the other mans hand.

"Kim Ji Sung." The man replied curtly looking down at Jimin's hand before reluctantly shaking it. He felt the little prick and made an 'Ah' noise pulling his hand back and shaking his hand before quickly inspecting it.

"Oh my goodness I am so sorry! It must be this old ring, it has a few nicks on it. I'm really very sorry!" Jimin told him frantically pretending to be concerned as Ally watched nervously from the sidelines.

"Don't worry about it..." the man muttered unhappily as he walked off. Jimin turned and nodded at Ally who took this a que to follow him. Jimin gave her an assuring squeeze of her wrist as she walked past him and followed Ji Sung. The man could feel himself getting faint. His head was spinning and he lost his balance tripping ever so slightly. Ally cautiously watched him as he held himself up against a nearby wall. Fanning himself over and over again with his hand before squeezing his eyes shut and leaned up against the wall. It didn't take long for the man to give out a small groan before slumping down altogether. Ally ran over to him shouting for help as loud as she could.

"HELP ME PLEASE. THIS MAN HAS COLLAPSED SOMEONE!" It wasn't long before the crowd were distracted by her screams and cries for help. She turned hysterical and tried to force a tear or two out as the party-goers crowded them.

"Make some room, let him breath!"

"Is he okay?!"

"What happened?"

All the voices in the room were mingling together. The silence in the room had been drowned out altogether.

"I'm gonna be sick." Ally lied pretending to gag moving away from the man and Jimin took this as the moment to relieve her from the crowd, pulling her gently through the throng of people pretending to help her.

The commotion had even got the attention of the security guards who all rushed over. Taking this moment to their advantage Jimin and Ally made their way over the main staircase and ran up as quick as they could before anyone could notice they were gone or before security sorted the mess out.

#BTS #kpop #scenarios #gang au #mafia au #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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lovely-bangtan7 · 7 years

Text

The Little Mermaid And Her Human Prince | 8

Pairings: Taehyung x reader

Genre: Mermaid!au; angst, fantasy, fairy tale

Words: 2,2k

Warnings: Mentions of sickness/illness, someone falling down

Summary: Your father, the king of the merfolk, has forbid you to come in contact with the humans. But as you see a ship with humans in need of help, you forget his rule and try to help. Unfortunately, you put yourself in danger and got saved by a beautiful human boy. Since the moment you lied your eyes on him, things have changed.

A/N: Hi! Finally after, I guess 4 weeks, a new chapter! I am so sorry that it took so long but writers block is a bitch and I visited my family in Poland for 2 weeks. I hope that you will still read the new update, eventhough I let you wait for so long.. I also hope that you can enjoy it. Maybe I kind of rushed the things in that chapter, but it’s because of the writers block and that the series might end soon ( idk how many chapters will follow, but the end is very near (sounds weird tho sorry)). So have fun my dears <3

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“When will this girl finally leave?” Amanda said angrily, her dress moving with every move her body does. She was angry and jealous at your relationship with Taehyung. She didn't exactly knew why you were here, at her fiancé’s castle and she wanted you to disappear as soon as possible.

While Amanda ran around her room, screaming her frustration out, her brother Jimin laid on her bed listening to her complaining. “Come on, she isn't dangerous or anything like that!” He told her, even if he didn't believe his own words. Jungkook had told him how Taehyung looked at you and how he treated you. It was clear to everyone, even Amanda and Jimin that Taehyung was in love with you.

“Have you seen how he looks at her?!” She gasped to Jimin who was just rollhis eyes. “That girl, whoever she is and where ever she comes from is in my way!”

“You are overreacting.” Jimin commented more to himself than to his sister, he didn’t bother to listen to her complaints anymore, he started to be sick of his own sister, who always wants her way. “Well, excuse me, I got to go dear sister. I will leave you and your conclusions alone.”

Amanda grunted at her brother, who was now leaving her room, but before he left it she added something, making Jimin turn around on his heel to face his sister.

“I am going to get rid of her on my own then.”

“What the hell are you doing now?!” He asked her, watching her laughing.

The castle started to fill with many guests for the King’s birthday. Many other Kings and Queens from other kingdoms visit the king to celebrate his birthday. It was already evening and the sun set down, letting the many stars dance on the sky and the moon shine so bright in all it’s glory. The castle looked magnificent in the moonlight, the many lights that came from inside made it look even more beautiful.

You were standing in your open window in your room, watching as more and more people came. You were already wearing a beautiful gown, that fit your figure. The long skirt decorated with many flower patterns, you loved it the moment Patricia showed you the dress. She told you that Taehyung ordered a dressmaker to make a dress especially for you.

Your hair was falling down on your shoulders in soft curls.

When you were ready you entered the dance hall, where you saw Jungkook and Jimin dancing the other day. The room was now filled with many people, wearing beautiful clothes, it was warm and it smelled like food, it reminded you of Jin’s kitchen.

You felt the people staring at you, so many unfamiliar faces were in front of you, watching you as you searched for someone you knew. But in all these strange faces was no one you knew. Regrets started to flood your mind as you scanned the room, maybe you shouldn’t have come and stayed in your room? But finally you found a pair of eyes that you actually knew, you felt happy too see her until you realised that Amanda’s eyes watched you with hate and anger. Until now you couldn’t understand whenever you met her, her face was filled with anger?

It felt like a sting in your heart by the thought that you might be alone for tonight in between of so many unknown people. You couldn’t find Namjoon, Jin or Jungkook and neither Taehyung.

You were about to turn around and eventually leave, but a voice stopped you. “Y/n! There you are, I waited for you!” Taehyung said with a bright smile, he looks at you up and down and is mesmerized. Taehyung took your hand in his and spinned you around, your dress swirling with you. “You look beautiful…” You smiled at his comment, indeed you felt beautiful in that dress. “Do you want to dance with me?” Taehyung asked you with a hushed voice. You weren’t sure if you should take his offer to dance with him, you didn’t felt comfortable to dance in front of so many people, especially when you learned it only a few days ago. But as you looked him in the eyes, all that didn’t matter anymore.

“Sure.” You answered him and his smile grew even more bright. He took you to the middle of the room, where the guests let a free space for others to dance. Music started to play in the background and you saw how the people circled you and Taehyung and finally you saw some friends of yours. Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook were also standing at the side, with Taehyung and Jungkook’s father. Your three friends were sending you encouraging smiles and Taehyung’s father wore a proud smile.

Taehyung put his hand on your small back, while he held one of your hand. As soon as the Music started to get louder, you and Taehyung started to dance.

Your long dress dances over the ground as you dance with Taehyung. Your dancing wasn’t perfect, but the moment was. You tried to concentrate on the man who was staring down at you, his eyes filled with so much love. The people around you, your family and Hobi long forgotten. In that moment you had your eyes only for Taehyung.

Everything was perfect until your legs gave up and an unbearable pain shot through your body. You tried to hold on Taehyung, but the pain paralyzed your body and you fell to the ground.

“Y/n? Y/n?!” Taehyung didn’t understood what happened. His face fell in pure horror, from one second to the other his whole world fell apart. “Y/n...whats wrong?” He was unsure what he should do, he was just watching your face strained in pain he didn't noticed that Namjoon and Jungkook rushed to his side and tried to help you bring out of the room.

The guests started to whisper, which soon started to grow into talking. What was going on? Why did you stopped dancing? Why were you in pain?

The noise coming from the guests started to get loud and it hurt your ears, causing an immense pain in your head.

Namjoon and Jungkook brought you back in your room, Patricia and Jin also rushed into your room followed by a confused and sick worried Taehyung.

“What happened? What happened to her?” Patricia demanded an explanation from the boys, who just shrugged helplessly with their shoulders. The older woman shoved Namjoon and Jungkook away and sat down next to your laying figure on your bad. Sweat started to form on your forehead and your breathing was short. “She is burning hot, we need a doctor!”

Taehyung could only watch the scene from the back of the room, unable to move or say a word. Should he have gave you your stone when he found you on the beach? Are you sick because he was too selfish to let you go?

An hour after the doctor finished checking you up and with deep regret he doesn't know what causes your fever and your immense pain. By now every guest has left the castle and almost everyone that worked or lived in the castle was either in your room or standing in front of your room. Everyone was worried about you.

“All I can say is that she needs a lot of rest and that we can just hope for the best.” That is what the doctor said before he left and that’s when everyone else left you alone in your room, so that you could get some rest.

Taehyung couldn't stay any longer in your room, he started to feel guilty, seeing you in pain.

All you wanted is to help him and warn him, the day the sea witch attacked his ship, but now you ended up at the edge of death. Taehyung wanted to punch himself, because he was too selfish and hurt someone he loves so dearly. You and his mom were the only women in his life that he could live with all of his heart, but why is it that he always hurts them? He was standing on the balcony to get some fresh air and some time alone to reflect his past actions and what he should do now.

“Let her go…” said a voice behind him, he didn't notice that Namjoon has joined him on the balcony.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, in all of these years of reading I once read about something that-” Namjoon hesitated for a second, before he started to speak again. “ I don't know how to explain, but y/n is in pain, because she wasn't home for a long time or in other words, she sick because she wasn't in her true form for a long time.”

Namjoon’s words confirmed Taehyungs thought, which he has feared for the past hour. It was his fault that you are in pain.

“You should let her go Taehyung or she will die here!” Namjoon said.

Taehyung was fighting with himself, more like his heart was fighting against him. He promised to help you go back to the ocean, but he fell so hard in live with you that he started to hop that you could stay by his side. Now you were lying here with high fever and pain. He felt bad and guilty, he was mentally punching himself that he didn't gave your stone back the day he had found it.

You can’t force love and sometimes you need to let the ones you love go, they can be happy again

“Okay.” He said, a knot already forming in his throat and his heart growing heavy. “I will let her go.”

Taehyung returned to your room, determined to give you your stone and tell you the story behind it, he wanted to be honest with you and tell you everything. Namjoon decided to let the two of you for that moment alone and went to the kitchen where Jin, Jimin and Jungkook were sitting and talking. All of them looked sad and the atmosphere there was thick. The king and Amanda weren't found anywhere, the boys guessed that they went to their rooms, but neither of them expected the next events. Taehyung came running into the kitchen, with wide eyes and short breathing. The words that came from the oldest prince shocked everyone.

“Y/n isn't in her room!”

“Honey, I am trying to help. Okay?” Said Amanda to your weak figure as she dragged you outside of the castle and went to the sea. “Some fresh air will make you feel better, believe me! I once had to fight with these symptoms too and fresh air helped me.”

You weren't sure why, but you had an odd feeling by her words, you kind of couldn't believe her.

“But the doctor-”

“Screw the doctor, honey. He is old and doesn't know what he is saying. Didn't you hear? He said that he doesn't know why you got sick. What kind of doctor said things like these and give up?” She chuckles and dragged you now quicker in the direction of the sea. “Come on, the air coming from the sea will help you.”

The two girls of you reached to the cliff where you saw Hobi days ago. The sea was dangerously rough and dark. Waves were crashing at the shores of the cliff, the water splashing on your face. It didn't felt good, it was really cold and you felt uncomfortable by it and all you wanted is to go back to the castle where it was safe for you. “Amanda, I don't think that this is a good idea. Let's go back please.”

“Go back, huh.” Amanda said standing behind you, dangerously near. “So you can run back into the arms of my dear fiancé, my soon-to-be husband?”

“What are you talking about?” Amanda started to be scary, her words were aroused with disgust and anger, what wrong with her and why did she bring you here?

“Of Course you don't know what I am talking about. How pathetic. You think that I don't notice that you are trying to steal him from me? Take my spot?” She said while slowly walking to you, in small steps, she stared you in your eyes, her sharp eyes digging in you own eyes. If looks could kill someone, you were sure that this look what have already ripped you in many parts. “Y/n, listen here. He is mine and you will never be able to take him away.”

Taehyung and his friends searched every spot in the castle. It shouldn't be hard to find a sick girl, who was barely able to walk on her own to find right?

“Have you searched outside?” Jungkook asked his older brother. Taehyung didn't think twice about that instead he ran outside as fast as he could. He wanted to find you as soon as possible and get you save, back in his arms. Without thinking he ran to the direction of the cliff that was near the castle and the second he got near it he could hear screams and the horrible sound of a body hitting the water, down the cliff.

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