#the last time we did more than one consecutive message to each other it was so... weird. they spoke like i was any regular person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inazumatrash · 7 months

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Some concept art for a discarted comic idea.

But I ended up adapting the script to a fanfic! (It's a little rough and I'm new to writing, so any feedback is welcome) Omori spoilers ahead.

The events of this story happens sometime after Mari's funeral.

///

It's sunset time with blue and soft pink tints all over the urban scenery. Basil is finishing tying up the velcro of his sandals to go out. Grabbing the door knob, he turns his head back to leave one final message before leaving.

"I'll be back soon, grandma!"

There's a chilling breeze outside and the streets are eerily empty. But Basil prefer this way. His head is full of thoughts, he needs the space. Approaching his destination, he stops looking at the sidewalk and lifts his head. He finally spot a living soul a bit ahead of him.

It's Kel. He's in front of Sunny's house. Kel seems to hesitate for a while, but gathers courage and knocks on the door. He vigorously give three consecutive knocks.

"That's a bit too much." Basil observes. Good old Kel.

It doesn't take too long for the door to open, and Sunny's mom appears. She has a dull look in her eyes. She's tired.

"Oh, it's you, Kelsey…" She looks over his shoulder. "and Basil."

Kel also looks back. Basil is suddenly there, a few steps of distance.

"What can I do for you two?"

"Uh." Kel is a little surprised with Basil's presence, but figured out he came for the same reason as him. "Can I- Can we talk to Sunny?"

"Hm…" She looks away before answering. "He's a little more unresponsive than usual..."

Basil feels a pinch of pain in his stomach.

"I wasn't able to talk to him since… the funeral." Kel fidgets a little. "I want to let him know he can count on us!"

Sunny's mom mouth corner's change to a soft, yet warm smile.

"Well, I'm sure he would appreciate to hear from you two, at least."

She steps back, opening the door welcoming the boys in. Kel perks up and calls Basil with a hand gesture. They enter the house.

"He's at their- at his room."

At the living room, the boys can see the glass door that leads to the backyard, highlighted with a menacing reddish orange light of the last sunrays. Kel immediatelly changes his attention to Sunny's mom back, while Basil has a hard time moving away his focus from it. They arrive at the staircase. Kel doesn't think twice and steps halfway through it. Basil freezes.

"Basil?" Kel calls out for him.

Basil tries to hide his anxiety and replies "C-coming!"

They are at front of Sunny's room, Sunny's mother a little further, to give the boys some space. Kel knocks the door, but this time, more gently.

"Sunny? It's Kel and Basil!" No reply.

Basil gives a quick look back at the staircase and Something starts crawling around him.

"Sunny." Kel starts again, leaning his hand on the door. "Sorry for not talking to you until now. But you know that we're here for you, right?" Kel sends a signal to Basil by raising his eyebrows and tilting his head towards the door, asking him to join.

Basil desperately tries to find the words. But the truth is, he wasn't expecting Sunny's mom, much less Kel's presence. It's not that he didn't have anything to say. He couldn't say anything he wanted to.

The creeping silence started to bother Kel, so he continued instead.

"Oh, I know! If you want, we can have a sleepover!" No reply. "Uh, it doesn't need to be anything fancy! We don't need to play games or eat snacks… We don't even need to talk. Just have each other's company, y'know?"

Kel smiled as he placed his other hand and ear to the door, waiting for the answer. He believed his idea was too good to be turned down. No reply.

"Sunny?" More silence.

Sunny's mom sighs, ready to call Kel and Basil back. Kel moves away from the door. He starts playing with his hoodie strings, looking a little less bright than before.

"Don't worry about it, it's okay." He did his best to hold a smile "I totally understand if you just need time alone."

"…like Hero." He completes under his breath, almost a whisper.

Another wave of silence. Is Sunny ignoring them? Is he even listening? Basil's mind go blank as he stares at the door.

"We'll come back tomorrow!" Kel bursts. The "we" took Basil by surprise.

"R-right! We'll be back tomorrow, Sunny." Basil faintly addes to the farewell.

Kel gives one last knock on the door, and starts walking away. Basil follows him.

"Oh, kids…"

"Can we really come back tomorrow?" Basil asks.

"Oh, yes, you may come… I'll let you know if he's available or not." It wasn't very reassuring.

After one last goodbye, the two boys leave the house. A few steps later, they stop in front of Kel's house. Before Basil could say anything, Kel apologizes.

"I'm sorry you couldn't say much. I hogged all the time for myself."

"N-not really. I wasn't sure what to say, anyway…"

"Isn't it strange, though? Sunny… He doesn't like to be alone, why would he…?" Kel stops and shakes his head. "We just have to try again tomorrow!" Kel smiles seems forced, Basil notices.

"W-well… See you tomorrow, then?"

"No, wait- let me walk you home!"

"O-okay." Basil let him be.

In the middle of the walk, Kel turns to Basil.

"I still didn't talk to Aubrey either. Did you?" Basil shakes his head. "I thought about visiting her too, but- I think I'm the last person she would want to see." Basil thought the same of himself, but kept silent about it.

Kel is a open book, he has no reason to hide his emotions and usually can be very blunt with his honesty. But something feels off today. Or since then. That day. Looking better, Basil notices Kel was using a navy colored hoodie at least two sizes larger than it should be. A small letter "H" was embroidered on it. Kel would use passed down clothes from Hero, but this one was clearly borrowed before its time.

He was lonely too.

Soon, Basil's home is right around the corner.

"Hm, actually." Basil starts. "I promised grandma I was going to buy a few things at the convenience store. Do you want to tag along…?" Kel snorts in reply. Was Basil trying to cheer him up?

"Sure, let's go! But let's be quick, mom won't like if I come home too late." He skips ahead.

"Wait! The store is on the opposite direction!"

"Oh!!"

///

It's night. Between the interval of a lightpost to another, Kel can't stand the silence anymore.

"Aah, I should have brought some pocket money!" He comes closer to Basil, using his hand to shield the conversation like he was about to confide a secret. "But I already spent all my allowance."

Basil wasn't expecting chit-chat, but wasn't too surprised either. It kind of gave him a sense of normality.

"…Hero always scolds me for spending it too quickly.

Like everything that happened was just a bad dream…

"But Mari would always treat me instead!"

A shiver passes through Basil's spine.

"Are you cold?" Kel opens his arms as invinting for a hug.

"No, I'm okay!"

Kel stops and rewinds what he just said.

"Sorry."

"N-no, don't be." Basil almost regrets calling Kel over. The uncomfortable silence is back, until Kel broke it again.

"I'll be more careful with my money from now on."

"?"

"So I can be the one who treat everyone out! How is that?"

"Are you sure you'll be able to do that?"

"What? You understimate me!!"

Basil slips a weak smile. Kel smiles back, like he planned it from the beggining. They continue their walk.

///

At the convenience store, Basil goes straight to what he went for. To kill time, Kel explores around until something take his attention at the candy area. Basil approaches too see what was so interesting. Kel only notices his presence after a while.

"Eek!" Kel was startled.

"…Are you going to ask for borrowed money?" Basil teases.

"No!! I was just looking… See, there's everyone's favorite flavor today…"

Basil identifies each flavor and silently pick them up.

They leave the store and Kel lifts his lollipop over his head.

"Basil, you're the best!" The compliment take Basil aback.

"It's just candy…"

"Yeah, it's just candy." Basil didn't expect him to agree so fast.

"It's the thought that counts!"

Basil just nods.

///

They arrive at Basil's house again.

"We're here!" Kel announces the obvious.

"Y-yeah."

Basil moves ahead to the door.

"See you tomorrow!!"

Basil stops.

"S-sure."

///

Basil is welcomed by his grandma with tea and cookies. Putting the groceries aside and with a cup in hands, he stares at the lollipops over the kitchen's table. Strawberry, watermelon and grape. He thinks back when Kel pointed that everyones flavors were available. All six of them. He shrugs the thought away.

Kel is on his way back, already appreciating his orange lollipop, while waving the cola flavored one in the air. He wonders when he'll be able to deliver the little gift. He wonders when he'll be able to talk to Hero again. Or to any of his friends for that matter. He shrugs the thought away.

THE END

#omori #omori spoilers #kel #basil #fanfic

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toxicruins101 · 1 year

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YOUR WORDS KILLED ME

Sbi! Family x Male! Killer! Reader.

Tw!: Gore, torture, mentions of torture, blood, killing, depression. Etc.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

you couldn't even keep count of how many days it had been since you were stuck down here.

1, 2, 3..678910..

Who knows? Yet as the faint sound of your blood dropping onto the floor making a slight consecutive sound you became aware of the passage of time around you.

The faint sound of chains rubbing with each other, making an awful sound.

Pain was the only thing you felt at the moment and you knew you weren't going to last very longer in this hell hole.

You committed a crime, a deadly one quite literally, and in exchange you got sentenced to this.

Torture and torture for days on end.

You heard the heavy metal door move and tried to look up but even that hurt.

You could try to look up with your eyes but you failed the energy to even do that.

"Hey mate.." Philza, oh your sweet father Philza, all this time he had been so hopeful and so relived when they told him you'll be able to get out instead of serving a life long sentence

Yet it pained you so much, knowing his poor heart was going to be crushed.

"Are you feeling ok? I'm guessing your asleep right now though.."

'I'm not sleeping, I'm dying' you thought as a warm feeling invaded your pain struck heart.

Your father always did care for you, he always has, as his first child you meant everything to him.

You wish you could scream out to him and tell him your fate, but were unable as your tongue had been cut out in the early days of this sentence.

You wanted to cry and sob, tell him everything that was wrong, so maybe he could save you, he could rescue you.

That maybe you'll get to see your little brothers again.

Maybe train with techno one last time, teach Wilbur guitar again, and help tommy pull pranks on the others just for one more time.

But your death seemed closer than that possibility coming true.

"Don't worry mate, just 2 more weeks and your out of here, two more weeks and you'll get to go home." Spoke your father tears welling in his eyes at the sight of your broken hanged up form.

You'd be long gone by then, your poor heart ached at the thought of your caring family having to receive the news of your death.

You all meant a lot to the other, so just thinking about it made you weep.

"I'll be taking my leave now mate, stay strong ok? We are all waiting for you back home.." his voice spoke, you tried to move towards him, yell at him to stop and speak a little more.

To null the pain and bring back the good memories, you wanted to die with a familiar voice calling out to you.

Not the treacherous screams of the other inmates in here whose fates have already been decided.

Soon after though another person came in.

"Y/n? You there?"

Techno

Techno!

You were so glad, you wanted to run up and hug him so tightly both of you were out of air.

Sadly you couldn't so you slightly moved your arms making the chains jingle hoping that would give him the message you were listening to him.

"Ah good, thought you were passed out there for a sec and I got really scared.." he chuckled lightly at the end of his sentence

Don't say stuff like that...it'll only make it harder for me to die you thought

"listen, we all, really miss you ok? I know what you did was bad, but, nobody deserves this.

Come back home, ok? We all.

Really need you" spoke his grave voice as he slowly made his way outside, looking over at you again before leaving.

There were so many things you wanted to say to him.

So many

So so many.

You had missed him so much over the years it was crazy.

You didn't know if this was the gods way of having mercy on you and letting you hear your family one last time or their punishment.

Making you hear and bear that weight of sadness knowing all their hopes of you getting out of here were going to get tarnished by your inevitable death.

No-one?

Guess that was it.

Maybe Wilbur and tommy didn't think you were worth their time-

"Y/n?..." Spoke a gentle voice from the other side of the space.

Wilbur.

You slightly smiled, you wanted to cry more than ever.

You had missed him so much.

Hearing about his death in l'manburg broke you in a million pieces

Yet there he stood now, revived and well.

He only started at you and walked over.

He inspected your weak form and wanted to cry at the state of it.

In an act of anger, at seeing his brother, his blood, one of the men who raised him be hung up and treated like a punching bag he broke the chains holding up your arms, with a sword that always hanged loosely on his belt.

Guards came rushing in as you finally felt your hands in God knows how long.

You smiled at him and he smiled back at you.

Guards came in and started pushing him out

He screamed and thrashed in their hold.

"LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKS, IM TALKING WITH MY BROTHER, WAIT-

NO NO WAIT-

Y-!"

his voice got cut off as he was forced out and the metal door slammed shut.

The guards looked at your weak form on the ground and scoffed as they pulled you up and tied you by your wrists.

So much for feeling your hands again

This time you didn't hear a voice, not even a peep.

Just quiet footsteps as they came closer and closer to you.

You felt gentle arms around your torso, careful as to not hurt you as sobs emitted from said person.

Tommy, the youngest out of all of you.

You looked at his dirty blonde hair and wanted to reach out and hug him so bad as he hugged and cried onto your broken skin.

His sobs filled out the room as tears fell from your eyes at the sight of your little brother in pain.

All because of you

Your family was suffering

Your friends were suffering

Everyone was suffering

Because of you

"All right, visiting times over kid, scram" spoke your torturer and you wanted to punch him faceless because of how he talked to your brother.

He only glared at the man but then took notice of the various array of weapons desplayed on his cart.

Full of blood, your blood, to be precise.

"hey, wait, no." He said as he stared.

Two more guards came out and went towards him when they realized he had no plans of leaving.

"HEY! NO! WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING ON DOING TO HIM! NO! DONT YOU DARE-" Spoke the blonde haired kid as they dragged him out, tears falling from his blue eyes.

"Something permanent" spoke your abuser as he smirked at your disheveled younger brother being forced out of the room.

You could hear your name being called and sobs from the other side.

NONO

NONONONO

NO GOD PLEASE

Don't leave me please

Philza...

Techno...

Wilbur....

Tommy...

Don't leave me to die alone please...

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baekxytocin · 1 year

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100 Days My Prince - Part 3

Part 3 – Can You Hold On? It’s 98 Days Left

Fluff

Character:

Baekhyun and Reader

EXO Members

‘I want to be someone that you can look up to’

641 words

The EXO members gathered in Xiumin’s house.

“Alright, everyone has arrived” D.O. started the conversation.

“Nope. Two members are not here” you slyly answered him, but you then wonder when everyone is laughing.

“Hey, hey! I’m here! I manage to get back here!” you turn your head towards the voice. Your eyes are wide open then rush to give him a hug. “Lay Oppa! When did you arrive? How are you?”

“I’m doing great! I can’t wait to go to the haunted house together this year. Yahh~~ How dare you go to the haunted house last time without me?” Lay answers you, instead you answer him back with a laugh.

“Hyung, it was only Chen hyung, Baekhyun hyung and Xiumin hyung went last time. We don’t get the opportunity” Sehun pouts. “True. And we have to wait for almost two years because of the pandemic. Gosh, so long!” Kai pouts as well. The youngest members are asking for attention, instead, the rest of the members chortle and hit their backs consecutively.

“Aigoo all of you…. We went there without you because we went straight to the place from the concert venue last time. Don’t you remember?” Chen defends himself.

“No, and no. We can just meet at the venue after your concert. Or…. Is there something else that happened last time? Are you trying to beat any record of us….” Chanyeol asks, not satisfied with Chen’s answer.

“Aigoo, Chanyeol. Stop being too competitive. We can go there this year together. It’s not like we’re trying to set a record or something. Let’s just go tomorrow, all, together. Okay? Are you happy now?” Xiumin defends Chen. The other members continue to laugh.

“But I don’t think everyone will be here this year….” you utter softly.

“Hahaha. We can hear you. Don’t be sad, Baekhyun is here too” Suho answers you while D.O. points something at your back.

“Hey sweetie…. Surprise” you take a good look at the hand that hugs you from behind, and you know very well the owner of the delicate hands.

“Yah! Yah! Do it in the room, in the room, you two! I don’t care, I have a few spare empty rooms, just go and do your thing!” Xiumin suddenly pushes both of you.

“Hyung! It’s not like we’re doing anything here. We’re just hugging!” Baekhyun’s pout and his feet stomping make everyone burst into laughter.

The members are talking to each other while you and Baekhyun are catching up in the kitchen.

“I miss you, my love” Baekhyun gets closer to you. He plants a kiss on your forehead while continue hugging you. “I miss you too. You sent me a message yesterday. Is this what you mean by I’ll be home tomorrow for Halloween?” he nods at your question.

“Only one day? I thought your military service part doesn’t need to stay in the camp?”

“I really wanted to focus on my service. This is only done one time, and I don’t want to mess this up. I want to be someone that you can look up to. Plus, it’s less than 100 days, so I don’t want to make any things worst now” he explains more, and you finally understand his reason for staying in the camp instead of going home daily. “Can you hold on? It’s 98 days left.”

You bob your head. “It seems like you’ll be back in the camp, not our house….” You let out a sigh, but you can see him smiling.

“I’m here, my love. Of course, I’ll be sleeping at home tonight and tomorrow since it’s Halloween. We are given a day off, a bit more than a day, I guess. So, we have time to…. catch…. things…. up….” you start to giggle when you hear his voice tone goes down; you know well what is happening next.

To be continued….

Uploaded on: 30th October 2022

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ledenews · 4 months

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#belmontcounty #BrookeCounty #downtownwheeling #ECHL #MarshallCounty #ohiocounty #UpperOhioValley #wheelingnailers

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musiconanironingboard · 1 year

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7 February 2023: Baby Plays Around 12″ EP, Elvis Costello. (Warner Bros., 1989)

On February 4, I stumbled across an incredible collection that had just appeared in my neighborhood shop. I talk about it in a non-consecutive posts beginning with this one. This collection featured a handful of artists I like, but the majority of the collection was made up of Elvis Costello rarities and oddities. I went back on February 5 to buy even more of it, and then on the 6th the owner of the shop messaged me: “Are you interested in a bootleg of Elvis Costello’s 1984 acoustic tour? If so, I’ll save it in my office for you. If you want it, let the clerk know it’s waiting for you next time you come. I’m pricing it $30 but I’ll give it to you for $25.” Well, of course I wanted it, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so the following day I made my third visit in four days and when I arrived the two clerks knew instantly when they saw me that I was there for the Costello record.

One clerk stayed behind and pulled out the Bob Dylan and John Cale special orders (see my two previous posts) that I’d already forgotten about, while the other went to the basement office for the acoustic Costello bootleg. The owner hadn’t mentioned anything other than that one record, so I was alarmed to see a whole stack of Costello albums in her arms. Good lord, I’d already bought thirteen 45 RPM singles, four bootleg LPs, and a sealed vintage LP from this sole collection, breaking my bank, and now I knew I wasn’t going to want to part without getting this new stack as well. I didn’t even know what was in it. Sarah, the clerk who went to the basement, put the stack on the counter and, bewildered, I started going through them. First on the stack was this 1989 12″ single. I’d already foregone a handful of Costello 12″ singles from this collection, because I couldn’t remember what I owned and didn’t own. I knew, though, that I did not have this particular 12″ (of a song from Costello’s 1989 album Spike), because I knew I owned the 45 RPM and 3″ CD versions of this same single and remembered there were other editions I didn’t own.

Thinking of to the 45 and 3″ CD editions, I seemed to recall that each format of the “Baby Plays Around” release had different extra tracks. Examining them all on Discogs tonight, including 10″ vinyl and cassette editions I didn’t know existed, I see I was partially correct about these track listings. What is different on each edition, though, are the colors of the lettering on the front covers. As for track listings, the 45 and 10″ versions have “Poisoned Rose” from 1986′s King of America as track two; the 12″, 3″ CD, and cassette versions have the non-LP Goffin-King cover “Point of No Return” in its place. If my 45 and 3″ CD were not in storage, I’d show you pictures of those, but you’ll just to imagine them.

Above we see the front cover in two photos: first, in the wrinkly, somewhat loose shrinkwrap that imports were often shrouded for U.S. stores, then with the shrinkwrap removed. This copy was sealed when I bought it. I sliced the shrinkwrap strategically so in the future I could keep it on and access the record. Below is the back cover.

Last, here is side one’s label.

This is the most mundane, common item of the six Costello pieces I purchased on this day, the rest of which will follow in subsequent posts.

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWELVE || TO YOU, SOMEDAY

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi kugisaki nobara (mention of zenin maki) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 15 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 1.9k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : narrow-minded

↳ next episode : tomorrow

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit, i can’t wait to get to the kyoto exchange arc in this series because i am on the low, losing ideas with theses episodes - this is what happens when you don’t plan in advance guys ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ moving on from that, i hope you enjoy today’s episode and enjoy the friendship between Y/N, Fushiguro and Kugisaki ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode..

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

In one’s own good time, your eyes begin to open only for you to suddenly cover them with the back of your hand due to the bright lighting that concealed your sight for a second before you separated your fingers to let some of the light pass through the gaps to let you adjust.

From what you could observe between your fingers, the sky from above seemed to display itself as if it was the reflection of the ocean that was down below on Earth since it was just a solid clear blue as if a painter decided that one colour was enough for their masterpiece while there was weirdly not a single cloud in sight.

It seemed too artificial for you.

However, for some odd reason, you felt weirdly strange. Even though you had just woken up from a nap, your body wasn’t as stiff as how it usually was when you would wake up, Fushiguro and Kugisaki could back you up on that fact since they always see you stretching for some time before proceeding to train again when Zenin called for you.

“Wait, where are they?” you muttered before you quickly sat up from your previous position to discover that your classmates were not right beside you under the tree where you three usually sat while taking a break from training, causing you to slowly look up to unexpectedly widening your eyes once you noticed the scenery around you.

At this moment in time, you seemed to be in a whole different location from what you remembered being at as you frantically turned your body around side to side to observe everything around you right now. Surrounding you was a vast field of purple hyacinths leading you to become completely perplexed on where you were and how you managed to get here while being asleep.

Steadily, you got up on your feet as you continued to examine your current surroundings only to discover that the only thing you could see was the blooming flowers that were surrounding you. Quickly, you looked up to finally notice there was no sun that was brightening up the sky and the area you were in, causing you to become more frantic as each second goes by.

“Where am I?” you questioned yourself in a whisper before finally turning back to face forward only to widen your eyes once again as your body began to lightly shake at the sight in front of you.

“Mother?” you quietly called out in utter disbelief at the display in front of you.

Although, it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer you at all. She was just standing there, letting the wind brush against the both of you while a few purple petals danced around you both leading you to become more puzzled than you originally were.

“Mother, it’s me,” you stated out slightly louder, thinking that you were maybe too quiet for her to hear you, only to receive the exact response that you had in the beginning. On the other hand, it seemed like the person in front of you had other ideas as the woman you assumed to be your mother started to take a step forward, yet you decided to take one step back slowly.

However, your mother continued to slowly and leisurely keep walking towards you as your footing was unexplainably now fixed onto the ground, as if vines grow out to hold them still, not knowing what to do since you weren’t even sure where to even go. There was nothing around you but purple hyacinths softening the situation that was happening, but that didn’t ease your nervousness that was sprouting within your stomach.

Without warning, your mother now stood in front of you with a deadpan expression painted on her face (void of all emotions) as her hand steadily reached down to grab a handful of the violet flowers that was enclosing you both causing you to reciprocate the same action before you both rapidly swang your arm around before suddenly pausing once you shockingly realised that your katana was now in your hand rather than the flowers your pulled out, leading your breath to halt in shock before shivering, once again, at a tiny cold feeling slyly being placed on your neck leading your eyes to shift slightly to the other side to discover a blade being pressed upon your flesh, leading you to look at your mother once again with a mix of doubt and bewilderment.

“What’s going on?” you asked with a hint of pleading within your shaken voice, only to unexpectedly spot a lone tear falling down upon her cheek catching you by surprise while a soft smile gradually appeared on your mother’s face.

“I’m so sorry…” your mother muttered with a hint of regret, leading you to become more puzzled only for that emotion to suddenly disintegrate the moment your mother violently slashed down upon your neck.

ꕥ

Suddenly, your eyes widen in fear as your body immediately shoots up in pure shock as you attempt to catch your breath while frantically placing your hand on the side of your neck where your mother assumingly slashed with her blade if it was a real situation.

“Gojo!” someone called out, causing you to look up to see Fushiguro and Kugisako running towards you with worried expressions on their faces to which lead you to begin looking around the area to recognise your now familiar surroundings as the massive field purple hyacinths were nowhere to be seen.

“What’s wrong?” Kugisaki asked in a panic as she crouched down to your level, leading you to look at her before exhaling really slowly to calm your rapid heart as well as your linger shock at what just occurred in your dream.

“Sorry, I just had a really bad dream, that’s all,” you answered with a small smile, hoping that would ease her anxious face to which it slightly did. However, you knew it wasn’t enough to fully remove the feeling that your classmate had within her stomach.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Fushiguro asked, only for you to turn to look at him before shaking your head as you then steadily processed to lay back down on to the grass as your head landed on your track top that you were using as a pillow.

“Does your neck hurt?” Fushiguro questioned you once again, as he placed a hand on top of the one that was currently pressing against it leading you to shake your head once again, before placing the same hand back down onto your stomach.

Fushiguro and Kugisaki eyed you suspiciously before taking the decision to sit beside you keeping you company since it seemed like you really needed it right now, even if you didn’t mention it to them.

When they saw you sprung up from your sleeping position, they assumed that you had woken up and was ready to train with them again since Zenin gave you a break due to you fighting all of them consecutively with the individual as well as team combat fights since they really needed to replicate the situations that would likely happen in the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event. However, the second they noticed the pure shock and horror that was painted upon your face, Fushiguro and Kugisaki instantly knew something was wrong.

Although, what they had learnt from being with you for the past few weeks to nearly two months was that you were quite the reserved person and never really wanted to display any vulnerability to anyone - even those you considered teammates/comrades - and to be honest, you were an expert on hiding every emotion that showcased any kind of emotion that made you feel unprotected.

It was just that this one time you lowered your guard.

To them right now, that was what you were doing. You were just peering at the green leaves above you with an emotionless expression as it seems you were in a trance.

What were you thinking? Were you okay? What was the dream about? How can we help?

That was what they wanted to ask you, yet they knew you were never going to give them the answers that they wanted, you were the type that would help others but didn’t allow them to help you. It was as if you didn’t want to rely on them...but why?

As she continued to think about the possibilities of what seemed to be your trust issues, Kugisaki couldn’t help but shift her body forward before gradually lowering herself to lay next to you as if she was going to take a nap, causing Fushiguro to look at her in confusion.

“Gojo, you know...being with you is quite amazing and it’s so much fun since we’re the only girls in our year, I feel a bit bad for Maki-san,” Kugisaki rambled before turning her head to face your direction, only to see you still looking at the same direction. “I wanted to thank you for training me since I know I have gotten so much better with your guidance, but I want you to rely on me as well,” Kugisaki mentioned with a bright smile as she turned back to look at the leaves above the both of you.

‘Rely on...’ you thought, as you continued to stare upwards.

“Oh! We should get some bubble tea tomorrow since we have an off day tomorrow, right? You know the one we saw when we went shopping last week, I wonder how it tastes,” Kugisaki suggested, leading you to give a side glance before slowly letting the corners of your lips lift up slightly to form a small smile.

‘Talking away to make me forget huh?’

“Sure, I don’t mind,” you quietly answered as you processed to close your eyes once again, surprising Fushiguro and Kugisaki as they didn’t expect you to talk at all. However, before they could even get another word in, they noticed that your eyes were shut causing them to wonder if you were going to back sleep or were just closing them for the sake of closing them.

During this time, Fushiguro decided that he would do the same as he steadily moved his body forward before laying down once he ensured that he had enough space for his back, joining you and Kugisaki in your relaxing session.

However, as your classmates were resting with the gentle winds breezing by with the sunlight giving some warmth from the cold, they didn’t notice how your hand was gradually going back to your neck as internal dread slowly crept its way up to your whole body.

‘To you, what am I now mother?’ you asked internally as you casually opened your eyes again, only to notice that you were still at the Jujutsu Tech track field - slowly coming to the fact that this wasn’t another dream and you were really back.

‘Someday...will I never get that answer?’ you questioned yourself once again as your finger brushed along the skin of where the slash would have been leading to slight shivers to travel down your back as if your body remembered the feeling of her blade slicing down your neck.

Steadily, you processed to close your eyes again, enclosing yourself into the darkness that you were somewhat fearful of going back into again. However, there was no other way you could get away from the real world right now.

Yet, a single tear welled up in your eyes as it then proceeded to drop down to the side, just like how your mother was in that dream.

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theunholygrails · 3 years

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Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

#percy jackson smut #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #logan lerman smut #logan lerman fanfiction

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maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

Text

Day 30: Dukexiety

Day 30 - When you look in the mirror, you can’t see your own reflection, just your soulmate. (Never heard of this prompt before, so I guessed)

Content warnings: maybe some anxiety? Just some wholesome for ya.

Word count: 1.5k

This ficlet is dedicated to @marshymoop.

Virgil was told he had brown hair; the color of a walnut. Sometimes if he grew it out long enough, he could just catch a glimpse of the color when it fell into his eyes. Apparently those were brown too.

A friend of his mom’s was an artist and had drawn him when he’d turned thirteen, but it hadn’t looked right. The face staring back at him from the canvas didn’t feel like his at all. He didn’t recognize the curve to the nose or the bags under the eyes; it just looked like a stranger. The more he looked, the more uneasy he felt, and he’d tucked it into the back corner of his closet, never to look at it again.

His reflection, where he’d seen the face of his soulmate since he was a baby, was far more familiar to him.

Black hair streaked with white.

Sharp green eyes.

A smattering of freckles over olive skin.

Sometimes it was odd, smearing makeup under eyes that weren’t technically his, and trying to fix hair that was shorter than what showed in the reflection, but it was a problem everyone had until they met their soulmate. He just hoped that the dark clothes looked as good on the real him as it did on his reflection.

---

Virgil was struggling to focus on the textbook paragraph in front of him when his phone chimed. It was a welcome distraction from the existential quandaries that came with Philosophy 103. Just a quick break, he promised.

Remus: heyyyyyyy

Aaaand there was that plan out the window. He couldn’t care less though, studying be damned, because now his heart was pounding and a nearly painful smile was stretching his cheeks. It had been a week since Remus had messaged him, and the pent up joy was all coming out at once.

You’re back! He replied amidst flapping hands. How was camping? His fingers hesitated over the keyboard.

I missed your messages. I missed you. I was lonely.

He said nothing.

Remus: i caught a squirrel. i couldn’t keep it though

Virgil: Did you name it at least?

That’s adorable. You’re adorable and a goof and amazing.

Remus: Yep. Squirrely Temple

A picture message showed up moments later, showing a surprisingly relaxed squirrel sitting in a styrofoam cup, a single peanut clasped in it’s little hands. The taker of the photo wasn’t visible, though that was to be expected.

The next one featured what Virgil assumed was the same squirrel, this time wearing a crudely constructed paper top hat. It held another peanut, and once again seemed shockingly unconcerned.

The photo was quickly replaced with a call screen and Virgil accepted it eagerly, still laughing.

“Did you see the squirrel?” Remus asked excitedly, to which Virgil could only laugh harder.

“Why is it in a hat?” He wheezed.

“I made it out of sap and a brochure I found. I think Squirrely Temple looked rather dapper.” The grin was evident in Remus’ voice.

“And you didn’t keep it?” Virgil inelegantly kicked his schoolwork off the bed to lay across it, grabbing his fidget cube from the side table.

“Nah, something about preserving wildlife and not having enough room at home,” he yawned, “Me an’ Roman gave him plenty of peanuts before we left though. A whole pile on a wood stump.”

“You sound tired,” Virgil teased. There was a small twinge in his chest at the idea of Remus going to bed already. He’d been off the grid for a week. Virgil was loath to admit, but he’d missed his friend more than expected.

“I think my body just sees an actual bed and the ‘tired’ protocol is,” Another yawn, “activated.”

Virgil yawned in tandem. “You should probably sleep, then.” He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice.

“Take your own advice, and I’ll consider. When’s the last time you got six hours of sleep?”

“Consecutively?”

Remus snorted. There was a whoosh of air as he dropped onto his bed, and a brief lull in the conversation before he spoke up. “I think I’d rather talk to you than sleep, actually.”

Damn, how was he supposed to respond to that? He pressed a cool hand to his reddening cheeks, glad the other couldn’t see him. “Wow, is that genuine emotion coming from Remus?” Virgil retorted instead. We can talk for hours if you want. I missed talking to you.

“My bad, I think I still have some fresh air in my system.”

God, he’d missed him. A single week had felt like a whole year without their constant interaction and updates throughout their days. They’d only known each other for months (had it only been months?) but in that time, talking to each other had become so ingrained in their lives, it seemed wrong to not wake up with his phone blown up from messages. It was so effortless, wasting hours away but feeling like no time had passed at all. It meant the world to Virgil.

And despite their jokes and snarky conversations, he had a feeling it meant a lot to Remus too.

It was as if he blinked, and the sun had set in the sky. The room had gradually turned dark as ink but Virgil couldn’t be bothered to flip on the lights, not when he was so captivated by Remus’ voice as he recounted his family camping trip. He didn’t notice nor care; this was more important.

Only when Remus’ yawns grew closer and closer together did it occur to him that the other was several hours ahead, blasted timezones. It would be early morning there.

“I think you should try to sleep,” Virgil grinned as Remus tried and failed to keep talking through another yawn.

“Maybe,” He sighed.

“Talk tomorrow?” For the first night in a bit, Virgil felt that same, familiar warm bubble in his chest.

“I actually had a question for you, first.”

Pop.

Remus sounded uncharacteristically nervous, putting Virgil on edge instantly. Everything he’d ever done wrong flooded through his mind. Oh god, how did he find out about the third grade Christmas concert?

“Do you want to vid chat?” He blurted.

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

“Like, tomorrow. Or not. It’s okay if not.”

Remus never stuttered. Something about it was unbelievably adorable.

“Just for fun, because we haven’t before, but if you don’t want to there’s no pressure-”

“Yes.”

All blubbering screeched to a halt on the other end, and Virgil couldn’t decide if his predominant emotion was anxiety or excitement. Besottedness, maybe? Either way, it made his face heat up to the tips of his ears and his feet wiggle.

“Yes?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Okay!” Remus let out a relieved laugh that bordered on a giggle, “When?”

“I end classes at one tomorrow.”

The man murmured his way through timezone math for a moment. “Yeah! Yeah, okay! I can do that! Yes!”

Virgil bit his lip, but a laugh made its way through anyways. “I can’t wait.”

-----------

Whatever confidence Virgil had developed the day before, it had completely evaporated by the next morning. His mind wandered during classes, too busy coming up with worst case scenarios. What if the connection sucked? What if they spoke over each other and it was awkward? What if they had nothing to talk about and it got awkward? What if they weren’t compatible face to face? It added a whole new layer to their relationship they hadn’t explored before.

What if they weren’t friends by the end of it?

He was equal parts relieved and petrified when his final class ended and there was nothing between him and the call. The whole walk back to his dorm was spent watching the numbers on the clock tick by, each minute sending a rush of adrenaline through him until he was sure he’d collapse from nerves right there on the path way.

A text from Remus came through three minutes before their agreed time.

Remus: Ready?

NO, he wanted to scream. There were too many variables, they were leaving the comfort zone and that’s where Virgil thrived!

Virgil: 5 mins

He set up his computer and paced around his room for the remainder of his time. His eyes caught a blur of motion in the mirror and he turned to his reflection, his flapping hands slowing as he studied the face before him as he’d done hundreds of times before. Not his face, but the only one he knew as his.

A part of him was suddenly weighed by guilt as he looked into those bright eyes, because the guiltier part of him knew what he had was a crush. A helpless one, at that. And a hopeless one. What was the point pining after someone when the universe had already handpicked someone else for him?

Stupid universe and it’s stupid soulmates.

The chime of an incoming call startled him out of his reverie and he swore under his breath. He tried to soothe down his hair, rub the stress from his eyes, but it was hopeless when he couldn’t see if it actually looked okay.

He sat in his desk chair and took a few measured breaths before clicking accept. The video stuttered and glitched before it finally settled, and Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

Black hair streaked with white.

Sharp green eyes.

A smattering of freckles over olive skin.

The silence stretched between them for achingly long before Remus beamed into the camera, and it was the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen.

“Well, hello there, soulmate.”

Taglist:

@max-is-tired

@joylessnightsky

@marshymoop

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #sanders sides soulmate au #soulmate september #ts soulmate au #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction

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todoscript · 4 years

Text

Love Capsule

anonymous requested: Can I request a Bakugou scenario where the reader and the Bakusquad drag him out on a shopping trip and they see a whole section of vending machines and decide to check them out to see what cute, tasty or weird things they can find and the reader and Bakugou either get lost/ditched or squeezed together in a tight row but they have a good time and maybe the reader got a rare all might mysery figure and Bakugou wants it, so they they he can have it in exchange for a date?

genre: fluff pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader word count: 4.8k+ warnings: bakusquad shenanigans. bakugou cursing. pining.

author’s note: My Bakugou angst fic isn’t done yet but I wrote this request on the side. I wanted to have something to publish after not posting any written work for awhile so I did my best to get this out asap. sorry if it seems rushed! (also reposting this because the post stopped showing up in the tags).

There are only a fair bit of things Bakugou loathes more than wasting his valuable time. And that includes wasting that time by getting dragged into public places he has no desire to be, alongside the four most senseless nitwits the boy has ever had the displeasure of befriending.

It feels less like a friend group to him and more of a gathering of idiots as he watches four out of the six huddle around the aisle of vending machines across the mall. Where’s the other one, you might ask? You’re standing right next to him, sipping a bottle of sweet lemon tea dispensed to you from those vending machines.

“Ooh, look at this one!” The other girl in his squad, styling unruly pink hair, pokes a finger toward a blue machine in particular. What she finds interesting about it is that it’s absent of all buttons except a single one above the coin slot.

“Says here that you only have to pay a hundred yen for a mystery item,” Sero reads the instructions printed boldly across the surface, his grin showing his pearly whites. “Can range from food to even toys and cheap plastic jewelry.”

Popping up behind his taller friend, Kaminari squints incredulously at the sign before his eyes brighten like he’s concocted a conspiracy. “No, dude, I’ve heard of these kinds of vending machines before! They want you to think it’s some ordinary convenience vending machine, but these things actually have some super-secret big prize hidden inside!”

“Uh, no, that’s how you get your money robbed from you, Kaminari,” Kirishima tells the blonde, and yet his warnings end up floating from one ear and flying out the other. Kaminari fishes out a small stash of coins taut in between the lint balls of his pockets.

“Yeah yeah, just wait until you eat those words when I come home with a Playstation 5!”

“Why would there be a Playstation 5 of all things in there?” Ashido asks skeptically. She notes the small slot near the bottom, appearing sizable to dispense a large water bottle at most.

“Okay, maybe not an actual PS5, but probably the voucher you take to the game store to retrieve one, of course!” He waves the doubt away as he kneels and begins his succession of slotting coins in the machine until agitation eventually ebbs his features. About five hundred yen down the drain and all he’s amounted with in exchange are two Gudetama keychains, two packets of off-brand oreo cookies, and one can of that cheap instant black coffee he dislikes. Though if it’s one thing, he and the drink have in common it’s that they’re both positively bitter.

Kirishima, Sero, and Ashido all snicker wryly behind him while he deadpans at the snotty series of prizes with the skin between his eyebrows crinkled in defeat. Ashido takes this as the time to move along the row, dragging her sullen blond friend by the elbow. “Moving on! I want to get to the one with the Yakult drinks already!” She points onward and leads her compadres down the treasure trove of intriguing automated food vendors. Two of the boys press forward enthusiastically. Kaminari has to be lugged out of his brooding in order to play along.

“God, please just take me out already,” Bakugou mutters while leering his signature miffed face behind them. According to the giggle he registers chiming to his left, it seems you heard his complaints.

“Hm, not having a good time, I’m guessing?” you ask. The metallic edge of your lemon tea creases into the cushion that is your plush bottom lip. Bakugou finds himself staring there longer than he should and immediately tears his eyes away before he’s caught.

Your playful tone throws him off a beat later than he should’ve taken to reply. “Of course. I didn’t even want to be here to begin with,” he sneers with a brisk click of his tongue, crossing his arms. In a sense, he’s only telling half of the truth.

It’s true Bakugou did not desire to be here on his own accord. The squad dared to call him at the dead of midnight, when he was already tucked into bed by nine o’clock sharp and indulging in a needed rest, only to be ruefully awoken by his phone blaring across the expanse of his dorm room. The four should’ve suffered an earful from him as they tried to arrange a shopping trip of all things at that hour. However, his disinterest in the subject withered at the bait of your name casted into the conversation. Which to them was hook, line, and sinker. The cunning group of friends reeled him in at the idea that his crush would tag along. So, in the end, they got the rowdy blond to yield to the stupid shopping trip.

Though could it count as a shopping trip when four out of the six in their group were so transfixed by the weird vending machines in the place? The same four that organized said gathering to begin with? They’ve yet to cross into a single store here for crying out loud.

“If all you morons are gonna do is waste your damn money on these things, then this is a complete waste of time.” Bakugou doesn’t sugarcoat his irritation in the slightest. You still try to quell the bitterness in his tone with the saccharine that saturates your own.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, lighten up,” you tease playfully, pinching a small bit of the fabric on his arm to lightly urge him forward.

“You should at least try and join in on the fun with everyone—” At the turn of your head, your sentence cuts off, astonished to come across an empty space where your quartet of friends should be.

“And they’re already gone…” you say in disbelief. Your finger initially pointed in that direction falls limp. With their speedy curiosity plowing down the line of machines, the four have effectively ditched you two, leaving no trace of where they could’ve taken off for next.

The sigh from your lips lingers in amusement. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, Bakugou.”

When your eyes meet him again, you witness the scowl he glares at the abandoned space in front of the vending machine. The leer is menacing enough that if the contraption were an actual person, they might have rattled in fear, dropping down the snacks and drinks contained inside to sate his anger.

“Um, Bakugou?” you attempt to call out to him, but he’s too fixated by the peeved thoughts strewn in his head to hear you properly.

What the fuck are those dunces thinking? They planned this, didn’t they? God, I’m going to fucking kill them all! He babbles a seething torrent in his mind. Each one is more unrelenting and harsher than the last while a vein blisters prominently on his forehead.

What were the odds that going on a little shopping trip would end up with him left behind with his crush? Well, Bakugou thinks it’s absolutely none, and that this shit had to be preordained. If not, then it was just his bad fucking luck he supposes.

“—llo, earth to Bakugou Katsuki? Please send back a reply when you receive this message.”

At last, your voice surfaces, no longer drowned in Bakugou’s turbulent sea of thoughts as the hand you wave in front of him swims its way to his attention. “Huh?” He shakes his head twice to grip himself back to the matter at hand, observing in time the playful smile that curls mischievously on your lips.

“All back together I see. Good.” You start pulling on his arm and lead him in tandem with your steps. “Now let’s get going!”

Though he quirks up an eyebrow, Bakugou, weirdly enough, does not reject the way you drag him along without waiting for his response. In fact, with the other four gone, he finds it compelling that you’re taking the reins and asks mildly, “What? Are we gonna be doing some actual shopping now?”

His joke earns him your laughter resonating in melodic lilts to his ears before you leave his side to toss your empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Nope, we’re gonna be doing something even more fun, of course!” Then you resume dragging Bakugou down the walkways of the mall.

It’s not long until he questions the consecutive twists and turns he’s forced to take, having only been answered by your pursed grin multiple times.

“Hey, no more questions! Just trust me!” you quip at his refusal to be quiet and just obediently follow. The blonde can’t help it, of course, given the circumstances he’s wound himself in. Not many boys his age can control themselves if the person they like is pulling them along with as much enthusiasm as you are right now. But Bakugou is different from those other simpletons, crafting a mask to cover the elation hidden beneath with usual displeasure. Nothing but his uncharacteristic lack of annoyance and the ample glances in your direction could truly give himself away to his affections for you.

So with that, he places a generous amount of hope that you guide him somewhere more entertaining than that borefest he witnessed from the squad earlier.

But the moment you two reach your destination, he wonders if he may have accidentally misplaced that same hope down a rabbit hole instead.

“What the…” Bakugou’s words drift in the air at the quizzical sight before him. Mouth hanging open, he’s unable to conjure any sensible thoughts in time before you step in front of him.

“Tada! The Capsule Toy Gacha Room!” You spread your hands outward to present him an unhindered view of the room. It’s teeming with small capsule toy machines that line the walls, stacked on top of each other not to waste a single space inside. His red eyes squint at the assortment of bright colors painted on each machine that assaults his vision.

“Why the hell are there so many of these things?” Bakugou asks, jabbing a finger at the machines. You reply as you walk inside, “It’s the Gacha Room, Bakugou. Of course this place is gonna be filled with them.” You impart him an answer he is not at all satisfied with.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid! Glad it hasn’t really changed,” you say, noting the only real difference between then and now were the new toys and characters updated with the current trends. He begrudgingly trails behind you into the narrow corridors sandwiched with the machines on each side. The modest little tune you hum between your lips is a stark contrast to his disgruntled huffs accompanying his dragging feet.

Bakugou thinks being here is not any different from what the other four are frolicking about outside. This might be the worse alternative, considering you give money to a machine that grants you an item at complete random. You have no way of knowing what or who you’re going to get until the colorful sphere pops out at the bottom. And then, in an instance, your anticipation fades away when you open it and receive the character no one particularly cares about—the little charm inevitably gathering dust, forgotten in the drawers of your desk. Overall, these toy capsule machines were just gluttons devouring the money of parents whose kids always whine about never getting what they wanted.

Still, because it’s you, he stays and watches you indulge in your little nostalgia trip.

As your eyes glide down the row of toy dispensers, trying your best to decipher the items contained behind the blurry glass, you chime in, “Say, Bakugou, don’t you have any memories of gacha machines?”

Bakugou’s brows furrow in contemplation. He racks through the nooks and crannies between the crevices of his mind and recalls some standout memories. “I guess. Few of ’em were stuck in front of the arcade place near my neighborhood,” he answers, but those memories immediately begin to sour the more he looks into the details.

You don’t see how his face slowly contorts with annoyance while he plays back a scene in his head.

At the time, Bakugou had only sprouted to the young age of five years old. He’s huddled around his posse in front of the arcade he mentioned, slotting a coin inside the capsule machine that was stocked full of charms of Pro Heroes, which housed a very special limited edition prize of All Might to honor their collaboration with the famous Number One of Japan.

The boy was positively giddy at what was to come out, remaining hopeful thanks to the giant poster of All Might gazing down upon him with his triumphant grin. Yet even when his squeaky little voice hollered out a “Plus Ultra!” to reinforce his luck, he was given dirt in response.

But you know who did get that mystery All Might prize?

Deku. Fucking Deku.

Right after he had his spin of the machine, the green-haired boy stepped up, gave it a go, and got All Might on his first fucking try. To say five-year-old Bakugou was bitter would only be putting it mildly. The unbridled emotions bundled in his tiny body were just waiting to burst in an explosion.

But in the end, did he fight Midoriya for it? No, he did not. For if he did, his mother would have scolded the hell out of him, and his young self reflected in the moment that avoiding parental wrath outweighed the limited edition Mystery All Might figure charm, as sad as that sounded. So since then, he’s tried to repress that memory in the far corners of his mind.

But it seems God just desires to spite him.

“Hey, look!” You pull lightly on his shirt to capture his attention, eyes trained forward at whatever piqued your interest. Bakugou peeks over your head, and what he’s met with does not please him.

“They have a gacha machine featuring Pro Heroes here!” you shout cheerfully, walking toward it with the hem of Bakugou’s shirt in hand, who begrudgingly follows along despite a groan nearly leaving his mouth.

“Isn’t this cool?” you ask. You squat down to peer into the peculiar machine located at the very bottom of the stack. Bakugou clicks his tongue as part of his reply, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers.

“No.”

“Hey, one day they’ll be making toys and charms of you as well, Mister ‘I’m Gonna Be The Number One Hero,’” you say with a giggle, and your comment sparks a bit of pink to dust his cheeks while he looks down at you from his standing position.

He attempts to join you and your fixation on the Pro Hero capsule machine. However, when he starts bending his knees, he finds this to be a bit difficult. The more he squats down, the more Bakugou realizes they truly made this place for children and not bulky teenagers like him training in hero school. His knees and bottoms almost brush up against the plastic sheen of the machines on each opposing side.

Though he has to fidget into a particular position to get somewhat comfortable, he eventually gets there and kneels next to you.

“Why don’t we give a go at this thing?” you suggest, and he tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

“No way, these are a fucking waste of money,” he rejects.

“Hey it only costs two hundred yen!” you counter, “And plus, you might get a certain hero you want, like say... All Might?” You attempt to lure him in using his idol’s very name, but Bakugou doesn’t take the bait so easily and remains rigid in his stance.

Even if he did want to try for All Might, he’s sure his capsule is long gone by now anyway.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, pleaseee?” you draw out your pleas in a cute little tone that takes the blond by complete surprise. Unaware of how much power you have over him, the doe eyes and pout that paint your features make it difficult for him to maintain his hardened facade. Feeling his walls begin to melt away at the endearing sight, he ultimately grits his teeth, eyes shut as his hands rummage down into his pockets.

“Fine,” he mutters in defeat, and that smile appears on your lips once again as you lift your arms in triumph.

Pulling out two separate hundred yen coins, he promptly slides them both into the coin silt. When he hears them clank against the other change inside, he goes for the handle and gives it a quick turn. One of the capsule balls begins its journey down the machine and quickly arrives at the hatch that Bakugou lifts to retrieve his prize.

Snapping the capsule open, he’s met with Endeavor’s ugly mug, seeming even more unsightly from the low-quality production of the charm. The paint job is beyond sloppy, with the colors on the costume not depicted accurately and the figure’s pupils drawn to make him appear cross-eyed.

“Hm, you got the number one hero,” you tease, lightheartedly nudging your elbow at his sides because you know full well it isn’t the number one hero he wanted. Bakugou ignores your taunts and shoves the flame hero’s plastic face down the depths of his pockets, making sure to give it to Todoroki later just to annoy him.

“Yeah yeah, your turn, princess.” He scooches a bit to his right to let you have your go. You gladly follow, taking out the two hundred yen from your money pouch.

Bakugou remains disinterested throughout the entire process but is still attentive enough to observe how you hum those casual tunes of yours despite doing something so mundane. He also starts absorbing the cute shape of your nose and the outline of your lips from this angle. It isn’t long until he realizes how close you are in this position, to the point where he could practically smell your fragrant scent, and soon that pink hue diffuses on his face again.

Fuck, I need to stop that, he urges.

By the time he turns away, the capsule machine has begun its machinations once again.

The sizable sphere descending the hatch this time has striped patterns of red, yellow, and blue, colors that remind him all too much of a certain Pro Hero— Wait. What the fuck—

“This one looks a bit bigger than the others, don’t you think? Wonder what... Oh, hey, it’s All Might!” You go through the emotions—curiosity, anticipation, and then finally, glee.

Bakugou feels like he’s reliving those horrible memories once again as he beholds the shiny, miniature figure nestling in your palms before you lift it to grant a better view of its glory. It twists around from how you pinch it by the attached string while it’s hovering in the air. When the Pro Hero’s face turns in the blond’s direction, it’s like the inanimate object is somehow taunting him.

Compared to Endeavor’s shitty charm, All Might’s is a proper representation of who he is. The better quality plastic molded accurately into the man’s figure, the crevices between his muscles delved into displaying his well-defined physique. The colors on his costume are all correctly painted in his signature red, white, yellow, and blue. They even got the broad grin and shadowy features on his face to the tee.

Whichever company created this toy indeed did All Might justice because it looks exactly like the one Midoriya unsealed right in front of his envious five-year-old eyes.

Bakugou’s body shakes with suppressed anger. His hands clench and then unclench themselves while in conflict with his thoughts. Then, he suddenly moves toward you, darting for the charm that you narrowly pull out from his grapples in time.

“L-Lemme see!” he demands, shifting his hand around to grab hold of it for some reason. The act has you befuddled while you continue to move the toy away to evade capture.

“Huh? Why?”

“I need... to fucking make sure— OOF—”

His sputters are the last things that escape his lips before he staggers off balance due to all those hasty movements. It sends his body toppling over yours onto the floor, where your head would’ve thumped against the hard ground had the boy’s well-trained instincts not maneuvered a hand beneath it in time to cushion your fall.

Your descent to the floor is not at all graceful, wincing slightly at the impact. It’s when the pain ebbs away that you and Bakugou finally realize the very awkward position you’re suddenly both in.

Bakugou is hovering over you, body between your legs as one of his hands is cradling your head. The other is situated next to your face against the ground to keep himself upright, letting his eyes stare down at your stricken expression.

Unknowingly, you had settled your hand on Bakugou’s shoulder out of impulse during fall. The other one is still grasping the All Might figure, which is unharmed despite the abrupt movements.

Bakugou can feel your even breaths caress his lips from how close in proximity both of your faces are in this position. If any of you so much as move the wrong way, your lips would undoubtedly collide into each other. Though Bakugou doesn’t mind the notion, he isn’t going to instigate it if you aren’t willing. But the way your eyes line toward his lips, giving him a similar enamored look to the one he has right now, it seems both of you are on the same page.

Taking your mutual fixations as the sign to continue, Bakugou draws himself forward to close the distance while you rise to meet him in the middle.

And finally, he gets to kiss those lips of yours. The lips that adorn your cute face he always snuck glances at. The lips so unhinged in their playful teasing toward him. The lips he’s been so mesmerized and bewitched by throughout this chaotic excuse of a shopping trip.

And when they meet, they’re as full and soft as he imagined them to be, melding perfectly against his.

The hand he’s nestled under your head allows him to press you further into the liplock. You’re nearly enveloped in his wistful machinations, wanting to drown in the sea of his affections as your arms find their way around him.

You would’ve allowed yourself to do so, if not for the unfortunate security camera you catch in the corner of your eye from where you laid.

Your eyes widen, staggering out of their half-liddedness. You pat your hand in rapid succession against his shoulder, getting the blond to stir and separate from the kiss—an act he detests as he doesn’t want the embrace to end.

“What?” he gruffs. You point up at the ceiling, and he turns in that direction. When he detects the security camera about to automatically shift toward this particular side of the Capsule Toy Gacha Room, his face grows full of panic. He lifts himself off your body immediately.

With the two of you remembering where you are, you rose from the ground and cleaned yourselves up. You try to appear pristine as possible, without letting any suspicion about what has happened get tossed in your direction. Still, the red faces plastering both of your features are already a dead giveaway.

“I… Uh…” Bakugou’s still lost in the haze of the heated moment, unsure of what words he should utter. Much to his relief, his burden lifts when two notifications from your phones ring in sync together, diverting your attention.

When you open your phone and slide across the notice, a text message from the Bakusquad ascends onto the screen.

Mina: heyyyy just finished going through all these vending machines! you wont believe how much money we spent!!

The message follows a selfie of the four holding a myriad of drinks and snacks together in the picture. You can’t suppress your giggle at the endearing sight. Another chime sounds when a new text pops up at the bottom.

Eijirou: let’s all meet up again at that blue mystery vending machine!

“Well, you heard them,” you say while clicking off your phone, “we better get a move on.”

Bakugou relays your words back in a slow nod, following through with a rough “yeah” that cleaves his throat. The two of you walk alongside each other once again while you leave the Capsule Toy Gacha Room. Only your steps padding against the mall’s confounds accompany the quiet atmosphere established between you two—awkward and a bit unnerving.

It’s when you’ve both made it to the meet-up spot in front of the blue vending machine that you alleviate yourselves of the strained tension.

“Soooo… was there any reason you wanted to get your hand on this thing so badly?” you question, drawing out the All Might charm that led those heated events to transpire. It dangles between your fingertips and glances at Bakugou along every rotation. The blonde bounces his eyes between you, All Might, and the ground, unsure if he should admit that he was acting out of childish jealousy and bitterness.

“I… Urgh… Fuck…”

You raise an eyebrow when he fumbles with his words. He mutters blatant obscenities between every possible resolve that crosses his mind.

“Look, forget it. It’s not important,” Bakugou concludes, but you think differently, not satisfied with his answer.

“No. Tell me.”

With that weight in your tone, Bakugou realizes he can’t avoid the subject any longer. He releases a long sigh as he leads you through the infamous tale, observing how your expression grows from concerned to downright amused.

“Really? You’ve held a grudge for that long?” The laughter you initially attempt to suppress ends up bubbling from your throat. Hearing it spurs Bakugou to clutch his hands together into shaky fists.

“Look. If you know me, then you should remember I never want to lose to fucking Deku. The fact he got the All Might charm right after I got garbage fucking pissed me off!” he exclaims loud enough for his harsh words to reach a couple walking by. They spare worried glances at the blonde when they stroll past him.

“Hmm…” you muse in thought. Bakugou can tell by the glint rising in your eyes and your tone that you’re up to something again. “I can give you mine if you want. But only for a very small price.”

He quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what would that fucking price be?”

The smirk prominent on your pretty lips widens while you teeter your weight to your tippy-toes in front of him.

“A date. Just a single date will suffice,” you tell him, and Bakugou’s caught off guard by how simple the offer is. His delayed response has you leaning forward, appraising him for an answer.

“Well..?” You wave the charm before his eyes by the thin string as if to hypnotize him. But in all honesty, Bakugou knows that sweet smile of yours and luster in your eyes is all you need to have him wrapped around your finger.

His playful smirk surfaces his lips. He provides his answer by snatching the figure right from your dainty fingertips.

“You got yourself a deal, princess.”

You happily clap your hands together. “It’s settled then! We’ll have a date here at the mall next week!”

“Hah?! Why the fucking mall again?!”

“Because we didn’t do much here anyway, so I say we should give it another shot together next week!”

“What? And go shopping? I don’t wanna be your bellboy the entire time—”

“Mom! Mom! Look at that boy’s All Might toy!”

You and Bakugou are both surprised by the new, high-pitched voice that enters in the middle of your riffraff. Your eyes trail along to sound and come face-to-face with a young boy staring at the toy in Bakugou’s hand.

“I want one too!”

Unable to control his gloating, Bakugou dangles the charm next to his face.

“Yeah well, too bad, kid. It’s mine so f—”

“Bakugou,” you warn. You halt the obscene words from entering the boy’s ears and avoid giving his mom a hard time.

“Argh… I mean... scram!”

You almost smack yourself. You can’t believe Bakugou has the guile to argue with a child at this age.

Though he forgoes the curses, that doesn’t make Bakugou’s words sound any less harsh. As a result, the kid pouts. He pouts hard. His eyes start to become glassy, lining the edge of his lashes with droplets. Recognizing her child on the verge of breaking out into tears, the mom acts quickly. She’s by his side, patting his back.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go to that blue vending machine over there and see if you can get a toy too,” she cheers him up instantly, dropping a hundred yen coin down her son’s small palm.

“Okay, mom!” he responds, gleeful again.

He dawdles over to the machine with purpose in his steps, inserting the coin, and pressing the lone button on the mystery vending machine.

You and Bakugou don’t perceive any noise emitting from the machine, and yet the little boy is putting his hands into the slot to pull something out.

“Mom, why did the machine give me a paper that says PS5?”

Both of you go rigid. Kaminari is not going to be happy hearing about this.

#bnha #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou scenarios

1K notes · View notes

armysantiny · 3 years

Text

Callous - CYJ

Pairing: Yeonjun x female reader || TXT

Genre: angst

Includes: college au, exes to strangers, break up, fashion major Yeonjun, performing arts major reader, regret, naps, Xiaojun (WayV) mention, Wooyoung (Ateez) mention, Changbin (Stray Kids) mention, Wooyoung x Changbin reference, swearing, venting, alcohol mention, trip to London

Word count: 2.56k

Warning: anxiety attack, anxiety, breakup, venting, swearing, alcohol mention lmk if I need to add any more!

Rating: 12

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw, @hybenet, @k-library, @moacabinet

Tagging: @intokook, @cherry-hyejin, @sinchoi || Fic Taglist

Prompts: “you know damn well we meant something” || “Don’t leave me here.”

An: Prompts are from the @ficscafe dialogue prompt event!

They say time heals all wounds, but for Yeonjun, it seemed as though he was the bitter exception. Months after he had split off from his relationship with y/n, the wound in his heart was as fresh as ever. And who could he blame? He started the argument, he brought up her past trauma, he blamed her for things she had no control over. No wonder she wanted out so badly. But if time didn’t heal the wound in his heart, it definitely gave him perspective. A perspective into his own reckless behaviour. However, the end of term-break was nearing, and he’d be forced to face y/n - and the aftermath - again.

Sighing as he watched the time tick forward inch by inch, Yeonjun tried focusing on eating breakfast, ignoring the reminder in his head that he’d be in the same class as his ex-girlfriend again. Perhaps Professor Chae would have mercy and not put their seating places beside each other. His phone going off as he finished the last of his cereal, Yeonjun picked it up, rolling his eyes as his best friend’s message.

Wooyoung: Hey, do you think I’ll get any confessions this term?

Yeonjun: Dude, you get a new confession like, every other week, why are you even asking?

Wooyoung: Oh yeah~ you’re right!

Yeonjun: Don't you have a boyfriend though? Where’s Changbin? Say hi to him for me

Wooyoung: He doesn’t have class until 10:30 :(

Wooyoung: Hey! You have his number too! Say hi yourself!

Yeonjun: Ehh, can’t be asked. See you later.

Wooyoung: Uh huh love you too - bye!

Bag slung over his shoulder, outfit complete, a water bottle in his bag and he was ready; now all he had to do was to brave actually going out of his apartment and to his first class of the day. But his thoughts were being less than kind to him, and Yeonjun could feel his heart start to palpitate. Patting his chest repeatedly as he tried to steady his own breathing, the 21-year-old took to heading back inside to his living room, where he sat down and tried dealing with the oncoming wave of anxiety and panic.

Yeonjun hadn’t heard the knock at his door, nor had he heard when the passcode had been entered, a concerned Wooyoung walking through the door. “Yeonjun…? Junie? Choi Yeonjun where are-,” Stopping in his tracks when he walked in on his best friend crouched behind one end of the sofa, out of sight. “Yeonjun-ah, it’s me…”

“Oh - Wooyoung, I- how, how did you get in?” The fellow 21-year-old asked, finally aware enough to realise that Wooyoung was in his apartment, kneeling down beside him. Looking over, the vulnerability was raw, and entirely out on display. And Wooyoung’s gentle smile provided a sense of warmth and familiarity, no matter how small that feeling was.

“You still haven’t changed it since you told me. Anyway- that’s not too important; let’s get you feeling better hmm? I’m not the emotional support friend for nothing you know~.” Wooyoung hummed, taking Yeonjun’s hand into his own. Starting with a short breathing exercise, the dance major got Yeonjun to relax, asking him to describe the items in his room; starting with five things he could see, going down consecutively until they had gone through each of his senses. And it had started to work; Yeonjun’s heart didn’t feel like it was beating out of his chest, everything had become clearer - the crushing in his chest going away. Taking a few more stable breaths, Yeonjun’s body relaxed as he slowly stood up, Wooyoung standing up soon afterwards.

“That...that was rough. Thanks Woo.”

“No problem Jun, it’s what I’m here for.”

Arriving in class but five minutes late, Yeonjun tried concentrating on the presentation in front of him, making notes every so often as his professor explained the lesson. Everything felt normal, perhaps even too normal. But normal was better than nothing, and it seemed like the fashion major wouldn’t be facing y/n at school for the time being. Busy with his notes as he adjusted his glasses, the universe must have counted him lucky as he didn’t see who entered the lecture hall to talk to the professor. When he finally looked up from his notebook, his eyes widened before he immediately went back to staring at his notes, in hopes that y/n didn’t notice him on her way out.

But she did notice him. She did notice him sitting in his seat as she left. When did he change professors? Remaining by the door as she closed it behind her, the performing arts major blinked back memories before she made her way back to class; class was more important than an old relationship gone sour. Walking back into the hallspace that was the location of her class, tried refocusing as she joined her group of friends as they watched some of the improv performances after speaking to her own professor.

“Well? What did Mr Kim say? Are we going to be working with the fashion majors for the end of year performance?” Dejun asked, leaning over to whisper while they watched their classmates.

“Oh? Yeah, yeah, Mr Kim said Mr Song will be ‘lending’ his students to us,” Y/n replied, air quotes as she spoke, “ I don’t know about you Xiaojun, but doesn’t ‘lending’ sound kinda off?” She asked, an amused grin on her face as she went over the wording one more time. Taking a moment to realise what about it was so amusing, he snickered when the correlation finally clicked. The pair exhaled rapidly to try and drown the laughter, they covered their mouths with their hands once their professor glared in their direction.

“Well; looks like we got caught~ but yeah - are they products to him or something?”

“We may never know Xiaojun, we may never know~.”

As class finished up, y/n grabbed her bag and headed out, waving to Dejun and her friends as she made her way into the hallway. Earbuds plugged in, she kept her hands in her pocket as she aimlessly wandered through campus, humming along to the song playing as she found herself walking towards the courtyard. Without any other classes until that afternoon, there was plenty of time to sneak in a nap while she listened to her true crime podcast. Finding a bench off in the corner, the second-year student let her mind rest as she placed her coat along the bench and laid her head on her bag.

As luck would have it, Yeonjun’s timetable had more or less the same timings as y/n’s, and he had also been looking for a quiet place to rest. Class had gone well after seeing y/n, and the book he had been reading was just getting to the good part. Finding a bench that wasn’t too far away from y/n - he didn’t intentionally sit close by, but life is never predictable - he took a seat, opening the book and continuing with the tale in his hands. His reactions muted as to not draw much outward attention to himself, the bout of uncontrollable snickers ended up waking and getting the attention of the only other student in the courtyard. Looking up from his book when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, the nervous palpitations of his heart started again when he recognised who he was sharing the courtyard space with.

“Hey-! Can, can I talk to you? Please…” Y/n was seconds from heading out of the courtyard when she heard Yeonjun’s voice, turning around for a brief moment before sighing. After the way he treated their break up, she was certain that there would be no way she’d want to see him again by choice. Rolling her eyes, she turned back towards the direction of the hallway, only to be stopped by a hand holding onto her wrist; holding onto her as though she was an uncertain dream. One that would fade away if not given the chance to confront it.

“Choi Yeonjun, I thought I made it clear that I don’t want you to speak to me again. Is it that hard to stick to?”

“I know y/n - and I’m sorry - but I’ve been beating myself up over this and I need to apologise. Apologise to you properly.” He was desperate, desperate to set things right and try to regain some level of contact with y/n. Yeonjun would be a dirty liar if he tried telling himself that even after all he had put his ex girlfriend through, he didn’t want to try becoming closer, at least platonically. But the feeling wasn’t mutual. Y/n wanted nothing to do with her ex; he’d hurt her too much, and despite the memories they shared, she could see nothing but the man who used the insecurities she trusted him with against her. He was a chapter in her past she wanted to separate herself from, to never look at again.Y/n said nothing as she pried his hand off of her wrist, a hard glare in her eyes as she left Yeonjun alone in the courtyard. Staring at his hands as though they were red with blood, his thoughts spiralled, exactly one being voiced out through a whisper, only for Yeonjun’s ears but meant for y/n.

“Don’t leave me here, don’t leave me clasping at straws y/n…”

“Wait, wait, wait - Yeonjun was in the courtyard?” Xiaojun’s voice called out from y/n’s phone late that afternoon, well after all classes were long over. They had been talking for the last ten minutes, and the topic of what had happened had just been brought up. From his side of the call, Xiaojun saved his assignment - of which he was already ahead in - and leaned back in his chair. He had been there for y/n when the breakup happened, spent days comforting his long-term close friend, and had some choice opinions of his own when it came to the fellow 99-liner.

“Yeah! I think he was reading a book or something, but I didn’t see it. Anyway - my point; this bastard actually wanted to talk to me. He grabbed my fucking wrist and everything; something about wanting to ‘apologise’.” Y/n answered, her phone on speaker as she set about making herself a hot chocolate. She’d get to her research assignment after telling her best friend what had happened. First order of business? Getting herself a drink.

“Wow…” Dejun started, the disbelief loud, “after the crap he put you through, it took him this long to want to apologise?” He asked, putting his own phone on speaker as he stood out of his chair to get a water bottle. The conversation stayed like that for the next half an hour; both talking about one topic after another, all seeming to revolve around y/n’s painful break up. It had been less than a week after y/n’s birthday when Yeonjun had decided that he wanted to end their two-year relationship, a fake cold exterior as he left her alone in the silence of her own apartment that night. Y/n never went to sleep afterwards, burying herself in work as she let the tears fall down her face freely, only praying that the end of the year could come any faster. Each day had dragged on at a snail’s pace though, each hour feeling three times as long as she tried avoiding the cause of her pain. It was those six weeks before her second year in university that she found her mercy, going on a three-week trip to London with Xiaojun and a couple others in their friendship circle. Tears were shed, alcohol was consumed and heart-to-hearts were had. By the time y/n had returned to Seoul, she was on track to healing the wound in her heart.

At the end of their mini venting session, the question that was really hanging in the air was whether y/n should even bother hearing Yeonjun out. But it seemed as though fate was eavesdropping on the pair’s conversation, because a knock at the door after y/n had hung up on her phone call immediately grabbed her attention. There was no way Xiaojun could have been at the door, otherwise the university student would have heard it across the call. Walking up to the door with a minute sense of apprehension, y/n looked through the peephole and audibly groaned. Massaging her temples out of frustration, she opened the door, arms folded as she stared him dead in the eye.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have your own mess of an apartment to get to?” She questioned, watching her ex walk in with a raised brow.

“I told you, I needed to talk to you. Please y/n, just one last time, hear me out. I beg of you.”

And despite her resentment, that’s what she did.

There was no level of regret or guilt that could describe just how apologetic Yeonjun was feeling as he spoke, each syllable a thorn on his tongue. He had avoided the glare in y/n’s expression as he tried explaining his point of view, but it was clear that it really was Yeonjun who had brought it upon himself. His actions, his callous behaviour led to where they were now; sat in y/n’s apartment while he desperately tried to repair a burned down bridge with nothing more than pretty words.

Having forced herself to sit through Yeonjun’s failed attempts at winning some semblance of friendship, y/n stood up, not in any mood to hear his voice any more. “You know what the real issue is with you?”

“What, what is it..?”

“You’re pathetically entitled.” Y/n started, looking everywhere but the man sitting on her sofa in front of her. “Two years, Yeonjun. Two fucking years and you decide to break up with me in front of my family while we were on video - humiliate me - and give me no reason. You erased me from your life even though you knew damn well we meant something. And suddenly now you decide that ‘Oh, I need y/n back’?”

“Y/n-ah, I’m - I’m sorry, I was a coward, I- I wanted an easy way out…” A ‘tch’ coming from y/n at his poor attempt at an excuse, she said nothing as she went to the apartment door and opened it.

“Get out. If I see you come to my door again Choi I will call the police.” His head hung low, Yeonjun complied; putting his shoes back on and walking out in shame. Flinching when he heard the slam of the door behind him, the broken man made the journey home by foot, too ashamed to feel the need to take the bus.

From inside her apartment, y/n reached for her phone. She needed to spend the night somewhere else.

Y/n: Mind if I stay the night?

Dejun: No problem, you’ve already got some of your own stuff here.

Y/n: Thanks Jun

As she left her apartment, there was one question on her mind. One that put into question exactly how she had dealt with the situation;

She wasn’t being too callous with Yeonjun, was she?

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

In A Week

Part 4/4 - This Feeling

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: With the wedding day finally here will your true feeling be revealed or will you leave the way you started? As nothing more than strangers.

Authors Notes: THE FINALE (for now??), this story was so nice to write and all y’all r angels for just reading it let alone liking/sharing it (really i could cry💕🌻💕) so thank you🥺🥺

Song used in Story: This feeling - Alabama Shakes (highly rec u listen!!)

Tw: swearing, drinking, allusions to sex and past toxic relationships.

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Words: 2.0k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 5

A thunk followed by the unmistakable beeping of the snowplows working hard at clearing away the snow from the roads and parking lots wake you. You let out a disappointed sigh when you notice the distinct lack of Frankie beneath you. Almost as if on cue he walks in with a bottle of champagne, orange juice and two glasses.

“Are you ready to get wasted?” he says, as you shift up in bed.

“On one condition.” you offer smacking your lips mouth tasting like morning.

“Which is?” He asks, tilting his head.

“We get fully dressed up for this wedding. I didn't spend hours contemplating outfits to not put one on.” you barter, prepared to fight with him to get what you wanted.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, much to your surprise “that tux was not cheap, and it was supposed to be back two days ago, so not getting that deposit back. Should we call the brides to be before we start drinking?”

“Probably a good call,” After multiple phone calls and various congratulations you found out they were going to be live streaming the ceremony for all the people stranded by the storm. You and Frankie have a lazy morning before it's finally time to get ready, you stand up swaying slightly from the few drinks you'd already downed. Frankie takes the suit into the bathroom giving you the room to change and to do your hair and makeup. You go to pull out your dress and as you do the lingerie you’d packed falls out onto the floor. Your heart drops for a moment before deciding to put it on, not for Jonathan, or even Frankie, but for yourself. You pull on the light pink velvet mini dress you’d settled on, and sling on the black open toe heels. Walking into the kitchen you pour yourself a glass of wine. You hear him clear his throat and you turn around. You're taken aback by how well Frankie cleaned up, no hat, hair styled and a perfectly fitted suit.

When Frankie enters the room, he stops in his tracks, continuing to stare when you turn to face him. If this had been at the wedding, he’s sure he’d have picked you out of the crowd instantly. He’d probably have spent the whole night hoping you'd talk to him only getting upset when you didn't even give him a second glance.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, breaking the silence first, beyond pleased at how he’d managed to impress you.

“Something like that” you offer, handing him a beer

“Well, we’re in luck because I was specifically told to provide drinking games for the reception, so” he says pulling out some red solo cups and ping pong balls from his bag.

“Who's bad with their hands now” he asks as he sinks another cup, winning 4 consecutive games.

“No fair! You’re cheating.” you say with a humph.

“I'm not, your technique’s just sloppy and lacking strategy” He mocks.

“I have a strategy” You state defensively, mouth open in faux anger.

“Flashing yourself in an attempt to distract me, isn't a strategy” he says licking his lips as his smile turns into a full blown smirk

“Excuse me.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest shifting your stance and arching an eyebrow, challenging him.

“Oh I'm sorry, is that not what you're doing?” he chides, smirk still prominent.

“Well it use to work” you mutter, embarrassed at having been called out

“Ya on idiots who can't control themselves come here, I'll show you to sink it everytime,” you walk over and he positions himself behind you, he's close enough that you can feel his chest heaving slowly behind you.

“Relax your arms” he says, shaking them out for you. “Okay this arm, drop it, keep it relaxed, only use it for balance if needed. This arm..” he says grabbing your wrist “ this is where the action is, alright keep your elbow locked, none of that wobbly shit I saw earlier. It's all about the flick and the follow through, keep it strong.” He watches as you repeat the motions without his hand guiding you and it goes in. You turn around and lift your arms up victoriously, they quickly find their way around Frankies neck and he lifts you up off the ground, faces dangerously close when he puts you back down on the ground.

“We should order a pizza, I think some places are open” you say quickly turning to your phone and ordering something from wherever it was open.

After watching the ceremony, you're sitting on the counter laughing as Frankie proves to you he can in fact eat an entire piece of pizza in three bites.

“Told you” he says

“Well consider me out witted” your phone beeps, you turn it over assuming its Stella or Santi or Gen but it's not. It's John the second you see his name pop up on your phone your stomach drops. Frankie sees the change in your demeanour, everything about you suddenly appearing small. Frankie grabs the phone from your hands “I swore an oath to prevent shitty guys from ruining the party tonight”

“How did you…? Whose orders? Did Santi tell you?”

“Maybe. Holy ….” Frankie says eyes wide when he accidentally sees the message that has been sent to you.

“What?” you ask, afraid at what he’d just seen.

“Nothing!” he lies, shaking his head blinking hard to get the image out of his head.

“Now you have to tell me!” you say hopping off from the counter and making your way towards him. Reaching for the phone which he's holding over his head. Your place you hand on his shoulder trying to balance yourself as you make another grab for it, but you're not even close. You plant a kiss on his cheek causing his arm to drop immediately allowing you to grab the phone.

“Ha!” you say, failing to notice the dejected look on Frankie's face.

You’re walking towards the counter to reply when something comes over you, maybe it was the way Frankie had made you feel these last few days, maybe it was finally coming to your senses, but you turn back to face him. You stare up at Frankie whose eyes are on the ceiling.

“Can you delete him, from all my shit, and block the number” you ask, offering him your phone.

“Really?” Frankie says

“Ya I can't do it but I want it done,” you say, pushing the phone towards him, more vigorously this time.

“Well it'd be my pleasure, guy sounds like a dick,” he says, taking the phone from you and scrolling through wiping away any remnants of the dude.

“Thanks” you say as he hands the phone back to you.

“What did you see in him? Well actually based on the photo he sent maybe I understand,” he murmurs.

“Francisco Morales” you say, mouth agape.

“I'm not the one who sent it!” he says lifting his hands up in defense.

“You wanna dance?’ he asks “I got the playlist from Pope, may as well have some fun, really forget about Jackson.”

“Jo.. you know it doesn't matter and you’re right,” the both of you dance like idiots for a while, twirling around the room in an embarrassingly cliche way that would be better suited to a John Hughes movie than a makeshift wedding reception. As the next song begins, the slow pacing shifts the tone.

I just kept hoping, I just kept hoping

The way would become clear

You stop your dancing, as does Frankie and a dread akin to that of being at your first middle school dance wondering if you'll be asked to dance or not comes over you. You both stare at each other for a second before Frankie offers you his hand, if he was waiting for a moment, this was it.

I spent all this time

Tryna play nice and fight my way here

See, I've been having me a real hard time

But it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

He pulls you into him and you sway in time to the music. One hand on your lower back, the other one holding your hand as you rest your head against his shoulder. His thumb gently rubs over yours. The sensation comforts you causing a wave of relief which causes your eyes to water.

So, I just kept dreaming, yeah, I just kept dreamin'

It wasn't very hard

I spent all this time

Tryna figure out why

Nobody on my side

“You okay?” he asks, hearing you sniffle, you nod looking up at him and he briefly untangles his hand from yours to wipe away the tear that had fallen

“I'm sorry, if I...” he starts softly, thumb tracing gently over your cheekbone.

“No, it's not you, well it is, but it's not bad” you offer, satisfied with the response he takes your hand in his again and continues swaying.

See, I've been having me a real good time

And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

So please, don't take my feelings

I have found at last

So please, don't take my feelings

I have found at last

Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be alright

“why'd you decide to delete him” Frankie whispers, barely audible

“Moment of clarity I suppose” you say into his shoulder.

“Which was?” he presses, not looking down to you.

“Just realized how I could have been being treated in a relationship.”

“Should have been being treated,” Frankie corrects.

“I can't believe I let him do that to me for so long, im so stupid” you mutter

“Blames not on you, blames on him for not realizing what he had, seriously if I had you id….” he stops himself not wanting to take advantage of a vulnerable situation.

So I just kept going, I just kept going

And hoping I'm growing near

Well this good and fine, I spent all this time

Tryna find my way here

And I've been having me a real fun time

And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

“You’d what” you ask, having mustered up enough courage to finally find out if what you were feeling was reciprocated.

“Id never let you go, at least i'd do everything in my power to make sure you’d want to stay with me”

Please, don't take this feeling

I have found at last

You reach your hands up to his face and pull it down to meet yours, lips colliding for the first time, but the sensation washing over you felt familiar. It felt like you’d finally come home.

Please, don't take my feeling

I have found at last

He slowly moves the two of you back towards the bed never departing from your lips for more than a moment.

“You uh..you sure you want to do this,” he asks, as you run your hands up and down his back.

“Ya, you?” you question looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yes, absolutely.”

If I wanted to, I'd be alright

Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be alright

The sun from the blinds that had been accidentally left open seeps into the room. The warmth hitting your naked shoulder. You smile when you look down to see Frankies arm wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Well my long con worked, I finally got the side of the bed I wanted,” you tease.

“Mmm” he says as you shift round to come face to face with him kissing his nose. His eyes flutter awake and he smiles, kissing you on the forehead as you snuggle into his chest for a moment before moving to get ready for the day. His arms tighten around you trapping you against him.

“Frankie, we have to get moving” you giggle.

“Nope, I was serious last night. I'm not planning on letting you go”

“So I’m trapped here forever?” you laugh

“Would that be so bad?” he wonders, and you settle back into him knowing that nothing would be better than spending the rest of your days here with him.

#in a week #part 4 #frankie x y/n #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish x you #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fic

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bottlesandcats · 3 years

Note

hiii!! i hope it's okay to just ask you, i really want to start writing fanfiction but i'm so embarrassed of my writing style and in general, ever showing it to anyone? do you have any tips for beginners? 🥺

Hey there Anon! Sorry for the delay in getting back to you, but I was at work when I saw your ask, and wanted to really think about what to say before responding. With that in mind, I hope you don't mind a really lengthy answer.

I have to say I’m incredibly flattered to have someone ask me for writing tips, and will do my best to provide some insights based on my own experience. I'm no expert, but I've done a lot of writing both academic and creative. Of course, it goes without saying that the following strategies are what work for me, personally. Everyone works and thinks differently, so some of my suggestions may not fit the way you work and that's totally okay!

Because I am an anal nerd, I've organized my responses into categories.

Writing Style

Firstly, remember that your writing style is unique to you and you have nothing to be embarrassed about! But honestly, I think a lot of writers feel the same way; I don’t actually like my fiction writing style, either, and am always working to improve it.

One thing I’ve found that helps: find authors whose style you really like, and read and reread their stories and study how they write. What’s their sentence structure like? How do they write dialogue? How do they set up scenes? Is it through dialogue or more through the use of a character’s thoughts? This is what I do. I have three authors, who all write in a particular way that I really love, that I tend to reread and study for inspiration. Just know that your style is not set in stone and you do have the ability to adjust it, it just takes practice.

At the end of the day it's easy to wish we could write like our favorite authors, but don't be too hard on yourself; your style is special, too!

Getting Started

When I used to write research papers in school, I was a big fan of creating outlines before I'd start writing the actual paper. However, for creative writing, I don't use outlines because I find that I'm constantly changing things around. The outline would either have to be so basic in order to allow for flexibility that it wouldn't be of much use, or it would become irrelevant three chapters in.

Writing that first sentence is probably the hardest part of writing a story. What I did, for the story I'm working on now, is picked a part that I was really excited to write about and just started with that, first (I'm pretty sure it was something that comes much later in my story, that I haven't even posted yet). That helped me to get really into the process and feel confident about what I was doing, which made it easier to move onto other sections. What I'm trying to say is don’t be hemmed in by feeling like you have to write sequentially. I tend to write scenes as they come to me; I don’t force myself to write consecutive chapters, if that makes sense. For example, in my current story, I had chapter 14 finished before chapter 11 bc I had a burst of inspiration and just wrote it all out. Just be aware that sometimes this can lead to you writing yourself into a corner (which did happen to me in this fic), but the beauty of it all is that it’s your story and you can change whatever you want!

If you’re writing a story with chapters, keep a point in mind. My beta reader actually taught me this. With each chapter, ask yourself “What is the goal of this chapter?” Think of chapters as mini stories that, when combined and read in order, create one big story (duh). Therefore each chapter should ideally have a purpose that moves the overall story forward.

Write about what you know. If you don't know -> research

Authenticity is really important to me. I have googled the most random shit for this story: "Did soldiers have to repair their own uniforms in WWII?" "Popular slang of the 30s and 40s." "How to make jambalaya." "Popular cigarette brands of the 30s."

I have also been very careful around race in my story as it involves POC and I'm as white as white gets (I got a hyphenated name and everything). When I address a character's emotions around race I try to match it to how they acted in the show/movie. I don't rely on conjecture or how I think they'd feel, bc as a white person, it's impossible for me to truly know what it's like to be a POC. This also goes for dialogue; it can be easy to turn people into caricatures. I've watched TFATWS at least three times, and have watched numerous interviews with Anthony Mackie to try and make sure I write dialogue and emotion that fits him as an individual and not a stereotype. It's not perfect, and I'm sure I've made some mistakes, but it's something that's really important to me and I try my damndest to make sure Sam Wilson comes across as authentic.

Getting Edits

I see a lot of people suggest sharing your work with friends or family to get feedback. I'm not really a fan of this because I'm pretty private about my writing. I don't want anyone that I know reading it bc, frankly, I'm embarrassed (hey look how we came full-circle there!). Besides AO3, Tumblr is the only space that I feel comfortable enough to share my work without fear of judgement. I think the preferred alternative is to get yourself a beta reader. This is the first fic that I've worked on with a beta reader and...wow, what a huge difference it has made! I found my beta reader when he posted on tumblr expressing an interest in beta'ing, and so I messaged him (hey @3dg310rdsupreme). It’s the best decision I ever made. He has truly made me a better writer, and my current in-progress fic wouldn’t be nearly as good without him offering edits, acting as a sounding board, and reigning in my excessive use of lengthy paragraphs (he will probably cringe at these paragraphs, here).

Posting Your Story

If/when you do decide to post your story in a public forum, try to maintain a loose posting schedule. When I first started uploading I committed to a chapter a week, but by the eighth chapter I was getting too stressed and found myself glued to my computer 24/7 trying to keep up. Hold yourself to goals so you don't wind up abandoning the fic, but remember that you are your own boss and this is meant to be fun, so go easy on yourself. I'd also recommend getting several chapters finished BEFORE you even post the first one, to give yourself a head start. You think you have plenty of time but it's surprising how much time edits and rewrites can take.

It can be really scary to share your work with others. Writing is really hard, can be very personal, and it's an incredibly vulnerable feeling to put yourself out there like that and leave yourself open to the judgements of others. I was terrified when I first started to upload chapters because I just wasn't sure what reader etiquette was like. The last time I posted a fic was on FanFiction.net almost 10 years ago and ppl did not hold back their criticism (I think things have vastly improved since then or maybe AO3 readers are just nicer). I can't emphasize this enough: you are not obliged to take readers' criticisms/feedback whether they are constructive or not. I don't ever leave criticisms or corrections when I comment on other writers' stories; I honestly don't feel it's my place to do anything other than support them as they are sharing their talents for free. Some writers welcome constructive criticism, and will typically state that in the notes if they are open to it. I do not; it's why I have a beta reader. I did have one reader post a public comment correcting me on a couple things (one of which was a misunderstanding on their part) and I politely requested that in the future any corrections should be sent to me privately, not publicly shared.

Wow...I think that's a good start. I really hope at least some of these tips will be useful to you! Thanks for reaching out, feel free to do so again, and if you ever want to send some pages my way you are more than welcome to! Just remember, be kind to yourself and have patience bc seriously…

#seriously this turned out way longer than planned i'm so sorry anon #but i had a lot of feelings and thoughts to share and i'm just so flattered you think highly enough of me to ask #long post #asks #writing is hard #tips for writers #writing #creative writing #good investments #but also invest in yourself #fan fiction

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callme--starchild · 3 years

Text

I Could Ever Learn How to Love

The 23rd century was something else. With buildings that reached up to the sky, others that were literally in the sky, droids roaming the streets and living among the citizens, and even the flying cars that were expected by those science fiction movies plowed through the clouds.

But in Odin Eidolon's mansion, it seemed that time had stopped. With the man facing a window reaching the ceiling, his gaze was fixed on the Eidolon Garden. Several passers-by were walking, either alone, as a family or as a couple, or simply with a pet keeping them company while police watched the area.

And Odin couldn't help not frowning. So many people that he has seen born, grow and die, simply living their lives without knowing the eye in the sky that saw for the common welfare of the city. Contrary to popular belief, he did not mind that people were ignorant of his presence; he liked to be discreet — unless the situation required otherwise, he either had to deliver a droid or make a donation; he cared for everyone and had no preference for any. And since he was secretly an android with a literal artificial intelligence as conscience, no one had to worry that he was okay.

This is how things should be. He was the millionaire — millennial — businessduck of the XXIII century that saw for the common good even without expecting anything in return. Since the twentieth century, that's how things had been: his old friend ... and he against the world, facing Evronians and putting aside the tirades against the guardian of the city — and the galaxy, he would proudly acclaim — as if they were tiny particles of dust.

But everything had changed since 2188, and now he had an image to maintain: no one could get too close to Odin because it was knowing that he was not what he appeared to be, no one could get close because it was knowing that the great and powerful Odin Eidolon had a gentle side. Nobody could get close because it was to become fond of someone, someone most likely very mortal, someone who would not last forever unlike him–

"Odin" no one, unless they shared the same vestiges of immortality as him, for exactly the same reasons even if that was his best-kept secret "you felt it too, right?"

And of course, as someone who has dealt with time-related issues in a very personal way, it wouldn't take long for Lyla to know what was different about the timeline. And as someone she knew long before Odin Eidolon, he knew that he could trust her. That is why he had specifically asked her to come to her mansion, even if it was with the vague excuse of needing her to deliver a message from him.

Still, he couldn't help but straighten up, rearranging his jacket and securing his expression in the reflection in the window. One of the downsides of being a droid is that, unlike the sphere in which he could modify his appearance, his features were more vivid, and now anyone could see how melancholy or frustrated it made him think of the past just by looking at his face.

"To tell the truth, I doubt that someone 'tinkering' with space-time did not go unnoticed by the best time officer," he commented with a sure smile taking place on his face, a great contrast to the Odin who a few moments ago was thinking about what was once. In his reflection, he saw Lyla's face over his shoulder and the way she smiled even if she did so with a raised eyebrow.

They had never discussed the hypothetical case of Lyla knowing the true identity of Odin, much less after PK's last visit to the XXIII century, and even if they did, something in which his words were kept honest was the esteem he held for the droid and her capabilities.

Not only because it was a creation of his industries, but because after years of adventures with a certain duck with or without the mask, he knew what she was capable of; like a father being proud of his child, strange as the comparison was when neither of them were exactly biological.

"They've already sent a squad to investigate, they'll send a report as soon as they get to the bottom of all this," she commented as she removed her jacket, revealing the dark pinkish suit of herfourth. Her hair was honestly a mess, indicating that she had come in a hurry as soon as she sensed the alteration in the story.

It was one of the few things that would never change no matter how many centuries passed, and while it was not something outlandish or very shocking, as someone who had seen so much since his inception, it would not be a surprise if Odin came to have a preference for simplicity. What would be normal or surprising for someone who has already seen it all, after all?

"Meeting the Time Police, it won't take long." But even if there was sincerity in the words, there was no room for doubt in the way his voice grew distant, finally turning to face the android, being his footsteps all that could be heard on the marble floor as he approached the couch closest to Lyla, whose expression had become more thoughtful, not to mention uncomfortable.

"This is not the first time the flow of time has been altered recently…" she commented, her voice softening as her fingers began to fiddle with one of her loose strands of hair, her free hand combing it as calmly as if it had never been rowdy in the first place "does the Timephoon sound familiar to you?"

It sounds familiar. Why does it ring a bell if he didn't remember being activated when that happened? The truth is that his memory did not recall any data of that event, or find a record that indicated that that event really happened, but he did not think he could say something to Lyla without giving any clue of who he really was.

Confusion must have been evident on his face because Lyla looked distant for a few seconds, her shoulders slumping with an emotion Odin could not describe.

"We are not supposed to disclose the details of our investigations, but there is something that worries me, and you are literally the only non-cop and person of this time that I can trust." Given the uncertainty in the words of the droid, Odin looked up again, arching an eyebrow. A part of him had been stirred when Lyla referred to him as a person, but at least he had the privilege of knowing that Lyla had the same trust in him as he had in her "but based on this, it appears that both incidents occurred in the XXI century."

Paperinik. Hero. Donald. Wow, he hadn't thought of the mere name in a long time, and just doing so awakened old previously buried feelings.

"Fortunately everything went well," Lyla added quickly, sensing Odin's concern; and though it ultimately calmed the businessduck's cravings a bit, he could not be reassured by the idea that he still lived risky alongside his uncle, no matter how capable he was of taking care of himself.

But it couldn't be like that, right? He was a young adult the last time they saw each other as Donald and Uno and he shared his dream of sailing the seas in his own boat or forming his own band, The Three Caballeros, and leaving behind that life of adventure to which he was typecasted to. Odin was aware that more than a century had passed since then, but he still had such information in his cloud; and it was Donald, the most stubborn duck he had ever met — technically the only duck he had ever met; it would make sense for him to be more independent now,

right?

But it was not like that. Even if Donald was technically more dependent on himself, he still stayed under Scrooge's roof, risking his life as if it were a piece of cake for him — which was true, considering what he lived through day to day as a superhero, but his nephews–

The nephews. What would become of them?

"Surely it must be strange to receive this news so suddenly, but you are one of the few who are still present after the departure of PK; I haven't heard from The Raider after his retirement, and I doubt I had the same confidence in him as he does in us" another good point.

"If it weren't for the fact that time travel is still unstable, I'd see a way to go there personally to make sure everything is fine. It is not the first time that such an abrupt change has occurred, much less on two almost consecutive occasions."

But it could not be. Because since the micro-contraption and the change of the Police's department, traveling through time had become a suicide mission. Even Donald Paperinik knew that stabilizing him again was a matter of time and patience.

Knowing which one leftover for one or both was the mystery.

"I bet they'll figure it out," Odin said with an expression so radiant that he left Lyla blinking multiple times, "if there's one thing that characterizes the Time Police, it's that they never give up."

And that was a fact for both of them, and she couldn't help but smile with a tiny bit of determination. Lyla could remember all the misadventures she'd had as a policewoman with Paperinik, usually affected by his clash of ideas with the officers'. But Odin cleared his throat before sitting down on the couch, disturbing the droid's thoughts.

"Maybe," she confirmed, taking a place next to the businessman, entwining her fingers in her lap with a thoughtful expression, humming as her gears worked, "…but I won't be able to do it alone."

As if on cue… which it was basically, Odin looked up, meeting Lyla's questioning eyes. It must have meant a lot to her, or she must be advanced enough that her gaze said what her voice box did not, so vivid that it reminded him of the times when Donald refuted about the humanity in them.

Quite ironic, considering they were anything but human.

"Are you sure? It could be risky" and although he knew it wasn't a possibility, Odin wouldn't know how to explain to PK why Lyla's move was made.

Especially because it meant that he would have to accept it himself, he would have to accept that he once again lost someone whom he held dear and esteem.

And though there was that same hesitation in the droid's eyes, Odin still sensed that determination that characterized her.

"I thought what you liked best is that we didn't give up," she scoffed, though it was clear that she wasn't doing it out of pettiness. Especially since Odin detected that bit of doubt that he rarely saw in the attractive robot. "Also, as much as it pains me to accept it, it's not exactly a fact. I like this time, and I appreciate your company, but I don't belong here..."

Oh yeah. The certainly selfish desire to go home. Donald had explained it to him once, and even now he couldn't quite understand it. And after all that she had been through in both eras — it's not like he knew, it was natural for Lyla to think of that time as her home.

Well, there were already two. Seeing Anxieties wasn't the same with no one complaining about his merely scientific interest in it.

Oh.

"Well, we won't achieve anything by standing idly," he concluded, delighting in Lyla's pleasantly surprised gaze, "we should check first that the micro-contraption..."

Sure, it wouldn't be easy. No one said it was, and the 23rd century did not have all the answers, no matter how surprising technological advances were compared to three centuries ago.

But after meeting PK and facing the way he had changed by being reactivated for the first time deactivated, he knew that he couldn't leave his friend behind when the mere possibility was present.

He could tell that a long time had passed since then. But unlike him, she could go home. with Donald. As much as he wanted someone who shared the same vestiges of immortality as him, it wasn't fair for her to keep her pigeonholed into the 23rd century when she had just expressed that she didn't belong there — otherwise, where would be the freedom of the droids that he had fought so hard for?

Who knows, surely the return of time travel would mean that she could visit him, and they could talk about… who knows, only time could tell.

Poor Odin, he didn't know how wrong he was.

"Family," Donald cleared his throat, his shoulders partially tense before extending both arms to Uno, showing off with years of restrained pride, "this is Uno. Uno, this is my family..."

Before repeating the same gesture, and no one missed the way Uno's expression had softened. How not do it when Donald gave him his million-dollar smile and stars literally shone in his eyes?

It was an expression that he dedicated only to him, when the adrenaline of heroism had already run out and it was only them in the Tower, talking about everything and nothing with Anxieties playing in the background. And he didn't know how much he had missed it. for all these years. Not to mention how clear it was that he was hiding his emotion from them.

Della literally kept her gaze scrutinizing him, analyzing his every move as he stood with some power, a mocking smile crystal clear on his face. If he didn't know better, surely his partner would compare him to that cousin Gladstone of whom he spoke so much with disdain, and the idea was funny and ironic.

Scrooge? He could still recognize him, how could he not when the most obvious change in his appearance, despite the years clearly elapsed, was the color of his coat and spats? Sure, he looked different than in that photo Donald had shown him in that boat of his, and his shoulders were slumped with weariness.

Though it was not the same exhaustion that Old Cape reflected in his posture.

What attracted Uno's sensors most, however, were the new additions to the family, four children whose undivided attention was on him, and it didn't take long for him to identify them with the information his partner had given him.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby. Certainly lovely that their names — or nicknames, as he had assured him — rhymed.

"One Ducklair, Donald's old friend." He held out his hand, maintaining a certain formality that it puzzled his friend if his nervous snort said something. It was obvious how much he had improvised with the name. However, even if he didn't put it into words, to him the sailor was like an open book, and he could feel how new it was for both of them him to hear him without a voice modulator.

However, in front of his scanners, he saw nothing but Donald injured, physically or emotionally.

Magic ice.

Comments on his voice.

Feathers.

The fights at school.

Cookie.

All the times Donald came to the tower with fire on his sister and his uncle on the tip of his tongue.

Hospital.

Every night he spent in the tower after a heated argument with Scrooge.

Dry blood and untreated scars.

Tears that shouldn't be there.

In front of him, there were only the people who had caused so much damage to the most important duck for him, be it involuntary or not. And now that he had a more lively body and features, he knew it wouldn't be long until his disgust was evident.

But for now, he would have to keep his guard down. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for his partner, as tempting as it was to tell Scrooge and Della their truths.

After all, it wasn't the first secret he had to hide.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

It will be fun while it lasts.

#el's fanfiction #one more wish au #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #paperinik #duck avenger #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales au #alternate universe #odin eidolon #lyla lay #uno #uno pkna #donald duck #della duck #scrooge mcduck #uno is a protective lil ai

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ledenews · 4 months

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ON THE NAIL! - Beginning a Long January On The Road

The Nailers found a way to take care of business last weekend, earning two victories over the Norfolk Admirals. What did the Nailers do well to come away with the four points they earned? As I said in my article last week, this isn’t anywhere near the same Admirals team as we faced last year. Norfolk found themselves towards the bottom of the league standings almost the entire way that season, but this year, Norfolk plays a hard style of hockey that could’ve given the Nailers fits if Wheeling allowed them to get to their game. Luckily, Wheeling was up to the task and really managed to put the Admirals on their heels more often than not. In Saturday’s game, the Nailers yet again scored an early goal, getting one only 3:33 into the contest off the stick of Isaac Beliveau with a nice snapper from the point. Despite Norfolk getting it back a little more than four minutes later, Wheeling wouldn’t be denied, as Jordan Martel got his ninth of the year less than two minutes later to give Wheeling a 2-1 advantage after one. In the second period, the only goal in the period came off the stick of Davis Bunz to extend the Wheeling lead to 3-1 heading to the final frame. Heading into the weekend, Wheeling had a record of 12-0-0-1 in games they held the lead after two, but that was in danger when the Admirals found a way to tie the game with just under three minutes left in regulation. But, as has been the Nailers method so far this year, Lukas Svejkovsky found a way to answer quickly, only 29 seconds after the tying goal to put Wheeling ahead for good, before Cedric Desruisseaux scored an insurance goal another 36 seconds after that to give the Nailers the 5-3 victory on the night. Things didn’t exactly end there, as Bunz and Matthew Quercia engaged with three players from the Admirals after the final horn and all involved earned misconduct or unsportsmanlike conduct penalties, which definitely gave the impression that this would carry over into the game the next evening. Also in this game, Jaxon Castor earned his first professional victory in the goal for the Nailers by making 29 saves. In Sunday’s game, I’m not sure if it was due to the extracurriculars the night prior or not, but the referees had no issue running guys to the box, calling five penalties in the first period alone, including two on Quercia. Each team managed to put one on the board, with Justin Addamo netting one for Wheeling just 1:17 into the game. Norfolk managed to tie it late in the period to take a 1-1 score to the first break. Cooler heads appeared to prevail in the second period, as both teams played hard but not dirty to try to get an advantage that eventually went Wheeling’s way with two goals in the period. The first came from the aforementioned Quercia shorthanded just under three minutes into the period, followed by Martel scoring in consecutive games to give the Nailers the 3-1 lead heading to the third, which, as I discussed earlier, meant they should come out with the victory. One final goal in the last stanza, this time from Tanner Laderoute, pushed the score to 4-1 in Wheeling’s favor before everything went off the rails once more. Quercia again, along with David Drake and Jordan Frasca, got involved with multiple players from the Admirals with less than two minutes remaining, leading to everyone involved being ejected from the game. I know a lot of people go to hockey games expecting activities like this, but in my opinion, it’s a bad look for the sport. Sometimes, it can be necessary to stand up for a teammate and get involved. But once a message is sent, just stick to your game, and allow the scoreboard to do the talking for you. The Admirals felt dejected, knowing they couldn’t do anything in these games to earn the points necessary to stay within shouting distance of first in their division. Now, I’m not saying not to play to the line. Don’t be afraid to be physical, or else the other team will try to take advantage of you. But the continued hostilities to the point of multiple ejections sometimes can overshadow some really good performances on the ice, despite Wheeling finding a way to get their needed points. Next time, just point at the scoreboard and skate away, and let them stew in their frustration. The Nailers head on the road this weekend for three games in Orlando against the Solar Bears on Friday, Saturday, and Monday. What does Wheeling need to do to emerge with a series victory, or better yet, a series sweep? The Nailers go straight from the frying pan into the fire with this, as Orlando is a very strong team this year, currently sitting in second place in the South Division with a 17-9-1-1 record. The good news is, when looking at how the Solar Bears have gotten to that point, it hasn’t been done at home, as they have a 6-5-0-1 record at the Kia Center. The bad news is, Orlando is currently on a seven-game winning streak, outscoring their opponents during this streak 39-13. They recently had victories of 9-1 over South Carolina and 7-2 over Greenville, the team they are currently chasing in their division. The other bit of potential bad news is the fact that the Nailers are currently sub-.500 on the road this season, with a 5-6-1 record away from Wesbanco Arena. That being said, I still see reasons for optimism in this matchup. Orlando doesn’t score first in their games very often, only doing so 12 times through their 28 games this year, compared to 17 times Wheeling has managed to do so in their 28 games, with the Nailers having a 12-4-0-1 record in games where they earn the first tally. Furthermore, the Solar Bears have the third-worst power play in the entire league overall, and the absolute worst home power play in the league. Although I don’t want to see the Nailers head to the penalty kill too often, with how strong it has been lately, I think they should have a good chance to play well against Orlando if it does happen. On the flip side, the Orlando penalty kill is among the best in the league, currently sitting second overall, but first when it comes to on home ice. The Wheeling power play overall has been relatively dreadful, but the have the ninth-best power play percentage on the road, so if they can find a way to cash in at least once this weekend in that situation, it should go a long way to help them succeed in the Sunshine State. Both teams, when looking at the stats, do the majority of their scoring in the second period, so if one of the teams can find a way to earn the advantage in the middle period of each game this weekend, there’s a good chance that team will be successful for the weekend as a whole. Wheeling is 5-1 in their last six games and managed to go 7-3-1-1 in the month of December. What went well for the team over this stretch and how can they keep it going into January? One of the biggest reasons the Nailers saw so much success over the month of December, and even more so recently, is currently on his way back to the Wheeling roster. Taylor Gauthier has been sent back from Wilkes-Barre/Scranton and, despite the good play of Castor against Norfolk, any time you can get a guy back between the pipes with the best goals-against average in the entire ECHL, it’s a boost going into a series against a team as hot as Orlando has been lately. Gauthier’s play in the net for this entire season has been magical despite his 9-6-0-1 record, as he has given up more than three goals against in a game once this season, way back on October 28 against Ft. Wayne, and he’s tied for the league lead in shutouts with two. When you’re a player with a goaltender behind you that’s playing that well, it gives you a lot more confidence and allows you to play a little more aggressively on offense, which leads to better scoring opportunities for the team. Another great point to having such a good goalie is that he’s generally thought of as your best penalty killer, and that group has looked extremely strong lately. Despite having a bit of a droop later in November, Wheeling has now managed to kill off their last 11 shorthanded opportunities, and 19 of their last 20 dating back to the Cincinnati game on December 22. When your penalty kill is going as well as it has, that also allows your team to feel comfortable to push a little harder. I still wish the other half of the specialty teams could improve slightly, despite them doing better in December. The man advantage group currently has a 16.5% success rate, which is better than it was, but if they can improve it even further, I think the Nailers can be even more successful in January and beyond than they were in December. Looking ahead, the Nailers only have three home games out of 12 total games scheduled for the month of January. How might this affect the team and what can they do to avoid having all the travel over the next month hurt them as they play games? Boy, another situation where the schedule maker for the ECHL didn’t do the Nailers any favors. Earlier in the year, Wheeling had to play home games sandwiched around a road contest in Indy against the Fuel, leading to some awkward travel needs and awful sleep patterns for athletes expected to perform their best game in and game out. Now, the Nailers have to prepare to live out of a suitcase for the majority of the month of January, which can’t be pleasant, even if it can sometimes be expected as a professional athlete. After this sojourn south, the Nailers have their only home dates for the month back in Wheeling, with two against the Fuel on Friday and Saturday followed by Kalamazoo coming to town on the 14th. Once they finish that stand, it’s back on the road for two in Iowa, three in Reading, then one more road game to finish out the month in Cincinnati. It can be very tiring for an athlete to be stuck on the road as much as they will be this month. It feels like they’ll get to come home just long enough to do some laundry and pack everything back up and get back on the bus headed for the next city. I really think this is a good chance for the Nailers to prove themselves though. They have a chance to improve that road record I spoke about earlier against some tough opponents. Getting the chance to focus on nothing but hockey and spending time with their teammates might be what makes or breaks this Nailers team, depending on how things go. I really believe that, if they can find a way to come out of this month with a winning record in January, the schedule should shift in their favor enough that they can push hard for a good position in the standings to be ready for postseason play come April. With the Nailers trip to Orlando this weekend, they have a day off scheduled for Sunday. What would you do with a free day in a city like Orlando if you were on a road trip with the team? The last time I had a chance to visit Orlando was for my honeymoon almost 14 years ago now, as my wife and I went to Disney for it. If you think that place is magical to visit normally, go there when you’re celebrating something that special. They really roll out the red carpet for you when they know you chose to spend that time with them, and you get a lot of great freebies across all of the parks. I had a fantastic time there at that time, and I look forward to going back again, as we plan to visit next year to celebrate 15 years of wedded bliss. In this situation, if it were up to me, I think my first question would be if I could bring my golf clubs. I’ve been known to play a round or two of winter golf here in Wheeling, including the round I played just a couple weeks ago at the Palmer course at Oglebay on December 24. If that were an option, I would definitely take advantage of the day off and head out to a course (I’ve heard Disney has several nice courses as well) and play. If I couldn’t do something like that, my next option would be to head to one of the theme parks, either a Disney Park or to Universal Studios, and have a fun day there. I’ve long wanted to see the Harry Potter world, and that could be a really fun adventure for a day off. I look forward to hearing about what the players got up to with their time off while away from home. Read the full article

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