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poetrusicperry · 3 years

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Running Towards Nothing

Chapter One

a/n: hello !! @noelliza and i fleshed out an idea about if todd came from out of state (specifically, somewhere in the southern united states) to attend welton, so i wrote it heh. i’m not sure how many parts this will be (if people like it enough for me to continue posting lol), but i have the first like... five written haha. so yes, todd is from the south (alabama) and i don’t know much about the south bc i'm from the west coast, but i tried haha. hope you guys like it !! xx

chapter summary: something in todd’s past is the reason for his family’s move, leading to a new neighborhood, a new school, a roommate he was never expecting, and an overall shift in his life.

pairing: todd anderson x neil perry

warnings: none (i don’t think there are any in this chapter, but if anyone spots something, let me know !)

word count: 2479

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If there was one thing Todd missed about home, it was the sky; the sun set differently over the rolling hills of Vermont than the grassy fields of Alabama. He was used to seeing all of the elongated, blue canvas sky that melted into bright shades of pink and orange along the horizon; there was nothing in the way of the creation, just a plain view of where the heavens met the earth. In the northeast, however, the sunset snagged on the seemingly-black pointed edges of trees and lush branches, interrupting the gradient leaving only soft blue and speckles of marigold.

But he had experienced his last Alabama sunset two days ago, and there was no going back. Not for a really, really long time (if ever). After the events of the past few months, there was no way Todd could ever show his face again, even if he really wanted to. Now, Todd Anderson and his family were living in the suburbs of Vermont, where, as his parents hoped, the past would stay hidden and they could build a new façade for the one Todd had recently, though unintentionally, demolished.

As Todd sat on the floor of his new, empty room, surrounded only by boxes and his bed (which didn’t have a box spring or frame yet), he gazed out of his window forlornly. Through the toothbrush-tipped trees that were jam packed along his new horizon, he could make out the silhouette of a church’s steeple. One that, no doubt, would be frequented by his mother and father while his brother, Jeffrey, was out of state at college, and Todd himself attended the prep school just a few blocks down the road. Out of all the cities in Vermont, Todd’s parents had picked the one with the lowest population and tourist pull, which meant not a lot of people inhabiting the city. However, on the flipside, there wasn’t a wide variety of schools to choose from. Back in Alabama, Todd had attended his local public high school, Nixon, and would have been an incoming senior there if certain... events hadn’t occurred. Instead, Todd was now forced to continue his education at what was deemed “the best all boys prep school in the United States” by his parents and surrounding boarding schools (no pressure).

Todd’s mind wandered through the recent weeks, pulling apart everything that had happened like rotten cotton candy. This was his life now: a new state, a new town, a new school, brand new everything. And yet, Todd felt stuck between wanting to start over and aching to hold onto his old life. If those five seconds could have gone differently, he’d be preparing for his first day of senior year with all his friends at Nixon. But his friends would never speak to him again, and he’d never walk the halls of Nixon High School ever again. Todd wondered what he could possibly be holding onto? There was nothing in a place he considered home and nothing in a new place that would likely never be home. So much of his past, he wanted to leave behind, but he just… knew that he couldn’t.

As he reached into the open box beside him, there was a knock on the door. When Todd didn’t answer, the door cracked open, revealing the familiar face of his older brother.

“Hey, I was going to go on a drive around town, maybe see some of the cool hangout spots if you wanted to come. I know I’m leaving for school in a couple weeks, but might as well check out some places anyway?”

Jeff always had a way of talking to Todd gently, never with any hints of condescension in his tone. After all, Jeff was the only person in the house who ever acknowledged Todd’s existence. And after everything that had happened, Todd was certain he was no closer to gaining support from his parents than a couple months prior; in fact, he’d been quite sure he was further from garnering any cent of respect, let alone support.

“Oh, uh… right now?” Todd spoke, barely above a whisper. He knew he didn’t need to feel embarrassed or nervous around Jeff, but that’s just how things were for him now. Anything he said or did felt… wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

“Yeah, I think Mom and Dad went to pick up some dinner, so I was just thinking that we could head out for a few minutes. Maybe get a little familiar with town and stuff,” Jeff smiled at Todd, his perfectly straight teeth somehow still gleaming in the darkening light of Todd’s room, “Come on, I know you probably don’t feel up to it, but it’d be better than sitting in here while it progressively gets darker,” Jeff attempted to joke, laughing slightly.

Todd gave him a half smile, half grimace, “Alright. Think I need a jacket?”

“Want to drive with the top down, so probably,” Jeff smiled, smacking the doorway and turning down the hallway, “Leaving in five!” he called down the hall as he went.

While they rode leisurely around town, Todd kept his head mostly turned to the side, leaning his cheek on his arm and taking in all the things they drove past. Lots of houses on moderate pieces of land lined the streets; they were nothing like the spacious farms and open pastures of Alabama. Up until recently, Todd had always considered the south home. But truth be told, he wasn’t sure what home was anymore.

“Oh, sweet, Todd, look! There’s an arcade!” Jeff patted Todd’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he cruised down the street. The big neon lights were hanging over a brick building spelling “GAMES & POOL.” It looked like the marquees Todd had seen of New York City in the magazines. He just nodded at his brother’s sentiment as they pulled up to the red light. Glancing up at the bright sign once more, his gaze was torn away when the door to the arcade opened, revealing five lanky boys spilling out onto the sidewalk.

“I told you I was going to beat the high score and you punks didn’t believe me!” one with sandy hair said, walking backwards and facing his friends. His face was twisted into a mischievous grin and his voice ricocheted across the street as the boys seemed to be making their way to the movie theatre a few doors down.

“Charlie, no one cares that you beat the high score,” the tallest one replied; Todd noticed he had a flattop haircut, which is something no one in Alabama would have ever had; Todd thought it looked neat. The flattop’s sentiment earned a chuckle from all the boys, but a particularly loud laugh from a tall, dark-haired boy standing toward the front of the group. He wore beige slacks and a tucked in red flannel with black and white hi-top Chuck Taylor’s. And Todd noticed his dimples were deep into his cheeks while he laughed. As the boys walked down the sidewalk to the theatre ticket vestibule, the light turned green and Jeff began to drive. As the car passed the group, the dark-haired boy looked up and locked eyes with Todd.

“Neil, still five for Gidget?” the ginger one with glasses said. The dark-haired boy (who Todd could now assume was Neil) held Todd’s gaze for a couple more seconds before tearing his eyes away and nodding at his friend. Todd’s cheeks were ablaze as Jeff drove further away. Trying to not move his head, Todd simply looked back at the boys in the side mirror until they were simply blobbed figures standing under the light of the theatre.

When Todd and Jeff arrived home, their parents’ car was in the driveway, and the light in the kitchen was on.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Jeff turned to Todd as he switched the engine off. He just looked at Jeff blankly; his appetite had still not returned, so he didn’t feel hungry much anymore, “I know I am,” Jeff smiled, ruffling Todd’s hair and easing the tension between them. He nodded a little bit and opened the door, Jeff doing the same. As Jeff made his way up the steps, Todd trailed behind him, not wanting to be the first person his parents saw.

“Jeffy, is that you?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom, we just went to check out the neighborhood a bit,” Jeff called, slowing his pace, falling into step with Todd and slinging his arm around his little brother’s shoulder.

“Dinner’s on the table, dear,” she replied as the boys walked into the dining room.

“Smells good, Ma,” Jeff smiled, taking his seat at the table after patting Todd’s shoulder. Todd sat down tentatively and stared at the spread in front of him. His parents had gotten KFC for the second night in a row, and Todd was about as excited as he was the first time (that being not at all).

“I know we had it last night, but it really just reminds me of the food back home,” his mother said, pulling her napkin into her lap.

“You boys eat up, now,” his father said, gesturing to the bucket of chicken and sides in front of the pair. Jeff grabbed his food, and took extra care to offer Todd all of the things he picked up for himself. While their parents busied themselves in a conversation about the pie their neighbors had dropped off, Jeff nudged Todd lightly,

“Look, I know you’re not hungry, but have a biscuit at least, okay?” he muttered and held one out to his younger brother. Todd took it hesitantly, put it in the middle of his plate, and stared at it, “Come on, Todd. Please,” Jeff mumbled again.

“What’s that, Jeffrey?” his father turned to him.

“Oh, nothing, Pop, just telling Todd to have some dinner,” Jeff smiled small. Todd’s father looked at him with disgust.

“Eat,” he grunted. At the timbre of his father’s voice, Todd flinched slightly and picked off a part of the biscuit to nibble on while the conversation turned to Jeff’s plans for the fall semester. Fading into the background (as usual), Todd tuned out the conversation and focused really hard on his white Chuck Taylor’s, getting a flash of the tall, dark-haired boy’s face in his mind. Neil. Shaking his head slightly, Todd adjusted his gaze to the plate in front of him and waited for another painful dinner to end.

When the summer had wound down and the weeks in Vermont had become more familiar, Todd’s parents had busied themselves with getting Jeff ready for dorm move-in and paying little, if any, attention to Todd. Currently, Todd was up in his room, preparing for convocation the next day. Jeffrey had left the past Thursday, driving up on his own. He had told Todd to not take everything so seriously and to do the best he could (because he knew that Todd was capable of a lot of things). He also mentioned that he was just a call away if Todd ever needed anything (he wrote his telephone number onto a scrap of paper). Todd had searched the arcade and the theatre a couple times in the hopes of running into the group of boys he had seen on their second night in town, but to no avail.

Sitting in front of the mirror, Todd analyzed himself. His hair had grown out kind of long, and his mother hadn’t taken him to get it cut, so he’d have to deal with that, but everything else looked normal. Things certainly didn’t feel normal, but he was used to the discomfort by now. The only thing he was truly worried about was his stupid accent. He’d spent the last few weeks hanging around diners and spots with Jeff, and hadn’t heard a single southern accent. He knew his drawl would just make him appear stupid to all these super educated kids, so he’d put a lot of effort into controlling it. He was actually doing okay at it, he just needed to make sure he didn’t slip up. Todd didn’t need any aspect of his personality or appearance to be called attention to. He got up from the floor and crawled into bed, dreading what the next day and year would bring.

Convocation turtled by, two hours of sitting in a church pew and listening to some headmaster spout of statistics that Todd didn’t care about. As far as he was concerned, he wanted to finish his senior year and get the hell out of here; Todd had always wanted to go to California, but his parents told him it was a pipe dream (“After the stunt you pulled in Alabama, we won’t be funding your college anywhere!” his father had yelled).

“Ah, Mr. Anderson, is it?” the headmaster questioned when it was Todd’s turn to be introduced after the ceremony.

“U-uh, yes sir,” he mumbled.

“Well, we don’t normally take public school transfers, but you will fit in well here. Any major problems you let me know,” he shook Todd’s hand rather harshly.

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded and moved along.

Feeling his chest start to tighten, Todd made his way out onto the grass where he sat down against a tree and waited for his parents. After an uncomfortable and awkward goodbye with them, he roamed the grounds a little bit, practicing his newly-fashioned accent quietly to himself. As he rounded a corner to the courtyard, he bumped shoulders with a boy, and turned to apologize, dead-set on making his southern accent unknown (or as unknown as it could be).

“Ope- sorry about that,” the boy laughed nervously. When Todd looked up at him, it was the boy from outside the arcade all those weeks ago. Shit.

“S-sorry,” Todd mumbled. The boy nodded a little bit.

“It’s all good. I’m Neil Perry,” he smiled, holding out his hand, seemingly unaware or forgetting of the fact that they’d seen each other before.

“Todd Anderson,” he manipulated his tongue to sit flatter in his mouth, so as not to let slip his Alabaman background. He had trouble looking into Neil’s eyes, but when he got a good look, he realized they were dark, dark brown and incredibly deep.

“Oh, that’s you? I think that makes us roommates,” Neil said, patting Todd on the shoulder. Oh no, Todd thought, his cheeks flushing. Stop it, he thought to himself and cleared his throat.

“Oh… cool,” Todd nodded a little bit and pursed his lips.

“I gotta get going. See you soon!” he patted Todd’s shoulder again and took off in the direction he had been going when Todd bumped into him.

Yep, Todd sighed. This is going to be a long year.

tagging some people (especially those of you who said i should post this heh): @queertoddanderson @babytoddanderson @cupiiid @justarandompjofan @charliedaltonofficial @pretentious-strikes @aedan-mills

and a big thank you to @noelliza as always bc she’s the best and reads all my stuff before i even think about putting it anywhere on the internet lol <3

#dead poets society #anderperry #neil perry and todd anderson #todd anderson #neil perry #angelina writes

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nyctophilin · 4 years

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I Was a Fool | I

sweet anon: May I request a forced marriage with Mafia!Changbin, please? Where like he's cold at first, but then they fall in love in the edn? And can there be some smut as well,,, sorry if this is too much lol.

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III

Description: She has been in love with her best friend for as long as she can remember. However, life doesn’t always like to play in your favour. Forced into a marriage she didn’t want to happen she lives her days lonely and unhappy the only thing bringing her joy being the occasional hangouts with her best friend. At some point, her husband starts to get bothered by the said hangouts.

Pairing: Changbin x fem!Reader, Lee Know x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Genre: Mafia!AU, Forced Marriage!AU, Angst, Fluff, eventual Smut

Warnings: heartbreak, rude Changbin, spelling/grammar mistakes

A/N: Anon, I know Minho is not part of the request but it just felt right to put it in. I felt like I can create more drama if he was there and who doesn’t love drama? I hope you don’t mind.^^ I have so many ideas for this mini series. I’m so excited for it. I hope you all like it. Feedback is very much apreciated.

She stretched slowly, the sun bathing her in its rays. Although it was pretty hot outside a breeze will start occasionally making the bottom of her dress fly up ever so slightly and cooling her heated body. They were close to the bank of a river, settled on a soft blanket, a few dished making it impossible for them to be as close as they wanted to be to each other.

She stole a glance at her best friend who was propping himself on his palms while looking at the few ducks that were populating the river. She has known Minho since her sophomore year of high school. He was a transfer student from another city. At the time his dad had got a new job in her city and they had to move.

He intimidated her at first. He was quiet when he wasn’t with people from his class that he befriended and he constantly had a resting bitch face on. They actually started talking because of a...let’s call it a cliché accident. She can still remember it so vividly.

She was walking towards the school’s cafeteria with her friends after their French class. Oh, how much she hated French. Not only was the grammar complicated but they also had an awful teacher. He didn't know how to explain things and he was very demanding.

“Class, today we will talk about something sophisticated and I expect all of you to already know about it because how dare you not know everything about France?” She heard one of her friends mock the teacher and she giggled lightly.

“You did it wrong. You have to add a French accent and more spitting to it. This man went to France once for a week and suddenly he forgot where he is from.” Her other friend rolled her eyes when she remembered the teacher’s antics.

“Oh come on. You guys are so mean!” She finally spoke just a tiny bit of sarcasm present in her voice.

“Oh please! You are the one that hates him the most.” Her friend challenged her with a raised eyebrow.

“Hate is a strong word. I just don’t have the same vision as him on most things.” She felt one of them nudge her in the back with her elbow and she adopted an offended frown. “Stop, I am serious!” She nudged her back and they started pushing each other. A particularly hard push from one of her friends had her bolting forward and knocking down the person in front of her, falling over them.

When she lifted her head and noticed who she hit she was up in a second. The second he spent getting up from the floor she was thinking of all sorts of excuses she could say. When he turned towards her she opened her mouth ready to let all her thoughts spill but she was cut off.

“Are you ok? Did you get hurt?” He placed his hand on her arms crouching down just a bit to inspect her face. His hands were really warm.

She felt a faint pink dust her cheeks. “I am fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I was the one who made you fall.” She looked into his mesmerizing eyes and gulped as discreetly as she could.

“I am okay but we can’t allow such a fragile lady like you to get hurt.” A smirk tugged at his lips and made her rosy cheeks to go into a deep red.

“Hey! I’m not fragile. I still put you down, didn’t I?” The most pleasant laugh she ever heard left his lips and he patted her head lightly.

“Yeah, sure you did, sweetheart. Be more careful next time!” His hands left her body and he turned on his heels joining his friends again and continuing his way to wherever he had to be.

After that incident, they started greeting each other on the hallway and making small talk every time they would sit at neighboring tables in the cafeteria becoming good friends eventually. The time she has spent with him was never boring and she ended up having some of her best experiences because of him. However, somewhere in that period of time, she fell for him. And how could she not? He was caring and gentle and funny and always made sure that she was comfortable before dragging her into another one of his crazy adventures.

She was also aware of his feelings for her. She didn’t know if it was love but she knew he cared for her more than a friend cares for another friend. But none of them ever confessed. Maybe they were waiting for the right moment and maybe they made a mistake by doing that because from now on there were no more right moments.

“I will be getting married.” Her whisper got lost in the breeze but he still managed to hear her. His head shoot in her direction, watching her side profile with blown pupils. With quick moves, he pushed the food out of the way and stood in front of her. Even though he was on his knees his body was standing tall, her calves trapped between his legs.

“What do you mean? Please tell me you are talking about that giant stuffed bear in your room.” Minho tried to bring some humour into the situation hoping that any second she will push him, make him fall on the fresh grass and start laughing. His voice was strained when he spoke, however, because these were the first words she said to him since they met twenty minutes ago.

Y/N bit her lip while avoiding his eyes. That was the hardest thing she ever had to do. Finally looking at his face she felt something tugging at her heart when she remarked his pained expression. “No Minho, I’m not talking about Honey. He’s way too good for me. If he ever decides to marry me I’ll be the luckiest woman alive.” Minho didn't appreciate her joke. If it was true then it was no joking matter.

“Y/N, please!” She bit the inside of her cheek at his slightly annoyed tone. She knows she shouldn’t joke about this but it’s easier than telling him the truth. She wished there was a better, less painful way than that.

“I’m getting married, Minho. In a month.” Y/N felt tears stinging at her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“With who? Did you have a boyfriend all this time?” The thought of her with someone else left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

“I don’t know who.” She said under her breath focusing on the abandoned food on the blanket.

“What do you mean you don’t know who?” She moved her face even further away from him wanting to avoid the conversation as well as she could. His unusually cold hand cupped her face making her watch him in the eyes and bringing her closer to him but still keeping a decent distance between their faces. “What do you mean you don’t know who, Y/N?”

She felt so intimidated by his demeanour. She knew she owed him an explanation. Actually, no. She didn’t. They were just friends and she can do whatever she wants. But she needed to give it to him for her own sanity. “It’s an arranged marriage. My parents made this deal a long time ago with a rival in business. If I am not in any relationship when he prepares to step down from his position and hand the legacy to his son, I have to marry him. I don’t know why there is such rivalry between flower shops but if that helps my parents from losing the family business I have to do it.”

“Y/N, this is crazy. We have to do something. You can’t just marry a complete stranger.” His hands descended from her face to her shoulders, shaking her slowly hoping that maybe they both can wake up from this nightmare if he does.

Tears pricked in her eyes as she took a deep breath. “If I was in a relationship I wouldn’t have to do it, but I am not. Everything is already decided on and I can’t do anything more about it.”

Minho collapsed on her legs but didn’t fully let his weight on them. He brought her face close to his only a few centimetres apart. “Yes, we can. Listen Y/N, I…” She placed her hands over his, making him stop in the middle of his sentence.

“Please, don’t do this to me. Not now. Please!” Tears started pouring down her cheeks as her vision of him became unclear.

“But…”

“Please!” She let her head fall into his chest and started crying uncontrollably. He felt his heart break at the sight of her crying and he never thought that his love could hurt her like that. He knew what he was about to do wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair for her. He understood that she can’t do anything anymore but he was selfish. He was too selfish when it came to her.

“I love you!”

Her whimpers became even louder and she wrapped her hands around his torso burying her head more into his chest. He embraced her as well, a hand rubbing up and down her back in a calming way. He was silently crying trying not to disturb her, hoping that maybe, just maybe he is actually dreaming.

From afar they may have looked like two insane people. Crying on a picnic on such a nice day. But it wasn’t a nice day for them. On that day their hearts have been broken by one another even though they still loved each other.

Y/N was fidgeting on the wooden chair looking around frantically. Her father placed his rough hand on her delicate one in an attempt to calm her down. She looked him in the eyes and he gave her a smile trying to hide his sorrow from her. She smiled back and finally stopped her moving, realising that nothing is going to change even if she wastes her energy like that.

Tomorrow was her wedding day and a few days prior they received a phone call from the father of the groom saying that they should meet before the wedding. Originally they weren’t supposed to meet because her soon to be in-laws were busy with the whole stepping down thing. She didn’t know why but she felt relieved that she gets to meet her husband before the ceremony. Even though her father assured her that he is a “young handsome man just right for my baby girl” she needed to see it with her eyes. No one wanted any weird reactions from her in the middle of the ceremony.

She will finally get married. Is something she has wanted to do since she was young. Being with the one you love forever and absolutely nothing being able to separate you. She always dreamed of completing this one desire of hers. Dressing up in the most beautiful dress she has ever seen and having her hair done beautifully. It was going to be a beach wedding sometime in spring. Everything was going to be perfect and in the end, her loved ones were going to witness the love of her life and her vowing eternal love for one another.

But she wasn’t getting her beach wedding and she wasn’t marrying the love of her life. She realised some time ago that life can be cruel. You get everything you want and then, all of a sudden it stops. You are left broken and have to live an unfulfilling life just because you can’t die yet.

She was woken from her slumber by the screeching of her father’s chair. When she looked forward she was met with two masculine forms looking down at her. She hurriedly got up and bowed deeply as an apology for not noticing them sooner.

“There’s no need for something like that. I can imagine how nervous you must be.” His voice was deep, shaking her from inside out. It was the older male that spoke. His shoulders were really broad and he was fairly tall, his imposing presence giving her a claustrophobic feeling. He had a fake smile plastered on his face and he extended his hands which she shook hurriedly. “I’m Mr Seo but you can start calling me father.” He laughed and she forced a laugh as well, uneasiness settling inside her.

She looked at the other man from the corner of her eye. He was very well built, his black T-shirt stretching over the muscle of his arms. “I’m Y/N.” She extended her arm and let a smile paint her lips in an attempt to be nice.

The man rolled his eyes and slapped his hand over her’s, shaking it violently before letting go. “I’m Changbin.” Immediately after, he sat down disinterested in that whole meeting.

A bored expression was adorning his face. All he could think about was the moment he could go home. His eyes travelled down her body trying to take her figure in. He had seen so much better. She wasn’t crazy beautiful and even though her body was presenting some appetizing curves her shy and reserved demeanour was a big turn off for him. He couldn’t understand why he had to marry her. Did they really have to form a pact with the District 9 Mafia? They were clearly stronger than them so why not just eliminate them.

He took another look at her. The way she sat, that forced smile, the fear in her eyes. Everything about her annoyed him. Maybe he was influenced by the fact that he had to marry her against his will but she was sparking something inside him. Filling him with rage until he had to stop to breathe in order to calm down.

“Do you go to college Y/N?” Mr Seo’s question surprised her.

“I did. I majored in Chemistry. I wanted to become a perfumer.” Excitement overtook her at the mention of her dream job.

Surprise settled on Mr Seo’s face. “Oh, is that so? How come?”

“Well, since we have a flower shop as a family business I grew up around nicely smelling flowers. I thought that maybe we could sell perfume as well. That way people would buy more things when they come by and maybe we would be able to beat you.” She giggled lightly and she had both men in front of her raising their brows.

“Oh yeah. Your father’s and my rivalry when it comes to our flower shops.” Mr Seo smirked at the other man and he averted his head, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

On the other end of the table, Changbin was both dumbfounded and angry. Not only was she not aware of her father’s real job but she was also naive enough to believe the flower shop story. He doubts that he and his father looked like they could work in a flower shop. He hated this marriage already.

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly with her, her father and Mr Seo making conversation. Changbin didn’t say anything unless spoken to and for the entire afternoon, he looked like he would rather be thrown out of a moving train than be there. Y/N tried striking a conversation with him a few times but he would either answer drily or would straight up ignore her so she gave up.

When they finally parted ways a few hours later she felt like she could breathe again. She was going to have a long and lonely life if this is how their marriage was going to proceed.

Y/N looked at the lights coming from the city. Everything looked so small from up there. So small that she could pick them up and do whatever she wanted with them. Wrapping her jacket better around her body she leaned against the hood of the car making herself comfortable.

“How is he?” Minho was looking at her expectantly.

“He is okay, I guess.” She let out a sigh turning her head to look at his eyes.

The older man made a clicking sound with his tongue before tilting his head to one side. “Okay? You guess? What am I supposed to understand from this?” He sounded annoyed.

“He didn’t really talk. He ignored me for almost the entire period we were there. He did say ‘Good for you.’ when I said that I am a good cook, though. In conclusion, okay, I guess.” She was sick of him honestly. The few hours she spent with him today were enough for a lifetime. He wasn’t okay, he was a complete unmannered pig. But she couldn’t say that to Minho. She couldn't tell him about all the dirty looks he gave her or how many times he rolled his eyes whenever she excitedly spoke about her interests. She knew how he would react and that would only make her fall for him even harder. She needed to get over him.

Minho felt his blood boil at her words. He gave her up, he respected her wish of not going to her father and fighting for her, only for her to end up with someone like him. Wasn’t life a bitch? He could make her so much happier. They could have a carefree life where the only thing they’ll be thinking about was how much they loved each other. But they won’t. Y/N is Changbin’s and as much as he hates it, if she is fine with it he will respect her decision.

He wrapped a hand around her shoulders and dragged her closer to him. “Maybe you just got the wrong impression. I’m sure it will be ok.” He said that to her but it was more for him. A reassurance and a reason not to start a fight. He wanted to tell her to go against her father. Tell her to think again. Tell her that he was ready and if she spelt the words he would jump in the car and run away with her. Go to a place where no one could find them and they could live a happy life. But he almost lost her once and he can’t risk that again.

After their picnic “date” Y/N avoided him for a few days and he thought that he ruined their friendship. But then, thanks to someone that probably loves him, she called him. Told him how scared she was of the whole situation and how she’s trying to stay strong for her family. That night she confessed to him many things that got him worried and he agreed to stay by her side because she needed him. He even agreed to walk her down the aisle. Walk with her on arguably the most important day of her life and then hand her over to someone else.

“Maybe you are right. I hope you are right.” She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. The last few moments she can spend with him like that before it becomes wrong. And she is going to enjoy them.

They sat like that for a good period of time in comfortable silence. None of them wanted to go home afraid of tomorrow. But they did because this was not a teenage rom-com where the protagonists end up together. This was the real world and they had to confront it.

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fanficsfromyesteryear · 4 years

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A NO TALKING ZONE

A STRANGER THINGS ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: Billy Hargrove x Reader — WORD COUNT: 701 — WARNINGS: n/a — REQUESTED BY: n/a — A/N: This came to me in a vision while I was shut up in my room doing schoolwork for hours on end. Enjoy.

You were so consumed with your homework that you didn’t even hear the front door open. Footsteps echoed on the stairs and then in the hallway leading to your bedroom, but your eyes remained trained on the pages of the book in your hands. It was Saturday night, and while most teenagers your age were out having a good time, you were cooped up in your room doing homework. You barely had time for anything anymore—between school and a part-time job, your schedule was full.

The mattress caved beside you as your boyfriend, Billy Hargrove, laid down. He didn’t say anything to you because he knew better than to interrupt when you were in the middle of something—he may have been the King of Hawkins High School, but you had a glare that could topple even the hardest of asses—but he leaned over to see what you were reading. When he saw that it was the book your English class had been assigned, he groaned. “You’re still going at it?” he asked.

“We have a test Monday,” you reminded Billy, your gaze not leaving the words in front of you, “and I’m only three chapters in.” You finally stole a glance over at him. “I bet you haven’t even picked the book up yet.”

Billy shrugged. “I’ll wing it.”

By “wing it,” you knew that, most likely, Billy would just turn on the charm and flirt his way out of a bad grade. All he had to do was bat those blue eyes of his and he could get whatever he wanted. He had the entire female population of the school—even the teachers—wrapped around his finger, and you hated it. You had never considered yourself to be a jealous person before, but that was before you started dating the hottest guy in town.

You turned the page. “Well, not all of us can get by with being pretty.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please. You know what I mean.”

There was a long pause and then, “So, you think I’m pretty?”

“Yes, Billy,” you said with an exasperated sigh, and then quickly followed with, “Now, stop talking.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence. You read on in peace, and Billy’s gaze wandered the room—he stared at your mouth, which moved as your eyes scanned the pages of the book; at the scuff mark on the wall above your head; out the window at the stray cars that passed by—all the while his boredom building. Billy was one of the most restless people you had ever met. Sometimes, you thought that he had to be doing something at all times or else he’d combust.

Billy had his ways for coping with boredom, though, his favorite being distracting you from whatever it was that was keeping your attention away from him. Sure, it might earn him an angry look or a smack with whatever book you had in your hands at the time, but it kept him entertained. That’s what he was doing now, placing kisses along your neck, which effectively made you lose your place on the page you had been reading.

“Quit it,” you whined, but you couldn’t help laughing.

Smiling, Billy drew back from you. “What?” he asked innocently.

You set your book face-down on your stomach. Though you’d never admit it, you were actually glad for the distraction that Billy’s presence provided. You’d locked yourself away in your bedroom all day and had scarcely taken bathroom breaks much less allowed yourself time to get something to eat—in all honesty, you’d simply forgotten, which was something that happened often when you got overwhelmed with work. “You’re so needy,” you teased, leaning over to kiss him.

“And you’re so easily distracted,” said Billy, grabbing the side of your face and closing the distance between your lips.

The book fell to the bed beneath you as Billy tugged you onto his lap. You pulled away from him just long enough to say, “If I fail this test, it’s all your fault.”

“Yes, Y/N,” said Billy with a grin as he repeated the words that you had told him only moments ago. “Now, stop talking.”

#stranger things #stranger things one shot #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove one shot

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aliendes · 4 years

Text

Natural Borns - Chapter Seven

Banner by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, smut (NSFW)

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: cursing, mxm hints? anxiety and panic, gunshots. I think that’s it for this chapter?

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 5.1k~

A/N: Hi all! Before you read this, I want to clarify something that I have gotten a couple of questions about. EVEN THOUGH this fic takes place in the distant future, not much has changed in the world aside from designer babies. There will be some technology that doesn’t exist today that will be mentioned (like self-driving vehicles and some other things, but those exist now… soo..), but for the most part, things aren’t super ‘futuristic’ in the technological sense. Like, phones and computers are still much like they are today… if that makes sense? I’m sorry if that confused some people, but there are no flying cars or anything like that!

But you knew, with Jin - here in his strong arms, and with the rest of the boys, everything would be okay.

Waking up, you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a huff. Cheeks puffed up, you try to stifle a yawn. You aren’t sure what time it is, but you don’t feel like you’ve gotten much sleep. Rolling onto your side, you open your eyes to find the room pitch black, like always, because there were no windows in Seokjin’s room. Looking over to the door, you don’t see any light coming from underneath it, so you figure it must be the middle of the night. Deciding that you’re going to try and get some more sleep, you roll back over only to be met with an empty bed.

You furrow your brows and sit up, taking the thin sheet with you. After the shower you and Jin had yesterday, the two of you turned in early and you fell asleep in his arms, curled against his side. Where had he gone?

Confused, you swing your legs over the edge of the mattress, finding the pair of slippers you’ve been wearing for the last few days. You try to rub the sleep from your eyes, still incredibly tired, when the door to Jin’s room slams open, startling you and making your head snap in the direction of the sound.

“YN!”

Hoseok is standing in the doorway, eyes wide and barely visible in the low light. Your own eyes widen at the sight of him, one hand on the doorframe, the other clutching at his chest, panting to catch his breath. “Hoseok?”

“YN we need to leave,” he breathed, moving into the room. You didn’t even think to question him, trusting him completely, and got up from your spot on the mattress. Hoseok looks shocked for a moment that you didn’t even ask him to explain himself, but quickly schools his expression as he takes notice of your hand on your ribcage when you stand. “Do you need help?” He asks, momentarily forgetting about the urgency of the situation, outstretching a hand towards you. You shake your head, hand waving him off.

“No, I’m fine. Where are we going?” Hoseok doesn’t know why his heart is clenching at the sight of you limping and holding your side, so he tries to brush it off and pulls his hand back.

“It’s Jimin and Taehyung,” he rushes out, shuffling towards the door in the dark, the only light coming from down the hallway, “they escaped.”

Your eyes widened and you let out a small gasp at his words, “What?”

You followed Hoseok through the doorway and down the hallway to the kitchen as he spoke, “We have a mole in the company, he helped them escape a few hours ago,” he scoffed, “but we think he gave away our position. We have to move.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging the fuzzy cardigan you were wearing, that you were sure was Seokjin’s, close to your body. You followed Hoseok into the small kitchen area where you found Jin, Namjoon and Jungkook packing a few duffle bags and backpacks with supplies and some clothing. Slowly coming through the doorway, you took in your surroundings. Seokjin looks frantic, trying to pack as many medical supplies and food items into his leather bag as possible. Jungkook was meticulously folding clothes and packing them into a large black duffle bag that looked to be military grade and Namjoon was leaning against the wall, speaking quietly into his phone. Upon entering the room, Hoseok immediately starts helping Seokjin pack his backpack, throwing necessary items in from the cupboards and under the sink. You stand quietly near the door, arms crossed over your chest to keep yourself warm in the chilly air of the cement warehouse. You’re only wearing sleep shorts, a t-shirt, the fuzzy cardigan and slippers.

Upon noticing you enter the room, Jungkook moves towards you, reaching out his hand cautiously, but decides against it and pulls back. “Do you um…,” he trails off, looking down at your slipper clad feet, “have shoes?”

You shake your head lightly, still sleepy from being woken up, “No, you carried me, remember?”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink at his slip-up and he coughs slightly to hide it. “Right,” he looks anywhere but your face, “I can find you something,” he mutters and stalks off to presumably find some shoes.

“YN,” your head snaps in the direction of the voice, turning to find Namjoon walking towards you, “we need to get out of here, we’re going to meet Jimin and Tae about an hour away. There’s a storm coming, so we will need to move quickly. Are you going to be okay?”

You nod your head quickly, not wanting to be a burden on them, “Yeah, yeah. I just need some shoes, but I think Jungkook is on it,” Namjoon nods along with what you’re saying, “are the twins okay?”

Namjoon smiles sweetly at you, adoration growing even stronger for you at your concern for his loves, “As far as we know, yes. We don’t have a way to contact them, but our contact in Big Hit gave them coordinates, and we’re hopeful they’re already there.”

You nod again, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself at the idea of running through the forest at this time of night, especially in the rain. Namjoon reaches out and places his hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look up at the tall man. The expression he wore was something akin to adoration, which you didn’t quite understand. “We’ll be okay, YN. We won't let anything happen to you, or Jimin or Tae.” You give him a sad smile, which he graciously returns, before leaving the room with Hoseok, leaving you and Seokjin alone.

You watch Namjoon and Hoseok walk through the door, your back to Jin, when you hear footsteps behind you. Sucking in a breath, you try and compose yourself. You’re scared. You can admit that to yourself. You don’t know what’s about to happen, or if you’re all going to be okay and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified about traversing the dense forest in the middle of the night. Feeling a hand on your shoulder, instead of startling, like you usually would, you relaxed into Seokjin’s touch, worries momentarily masked by the feeling of his hands on you.

“We’re gonna be okay, love,” he murmurs, close to the side of your face, other arm coming up to wrap around your front and pull you against his chest, “like Namjoon said, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I won't let anything happen to you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and leaned your head back against Seokjin’s firm chest, the height difference between you two very apparent in your current position. “I’m scared,” you whisper into the empty room, “I’m worried about you guys. About Jimin and Taehyung. I don’t even know them, I barely know you guys. I don’t know why I feel like this, I- it’s confusing.” You furrow your brows as you try to figure out your words, frustrated that you can’t vocalize how you’re feeling to Jin.

He brings his hand that was previously on your shoulder, around your front so you’re caged in both his arms, pulled tightly against his chest in a sweet bag hug, both of your own hands coming up to rest against Jin’s forearms. He rests his chin on your shoulder, quickly and carefully pecking the skin under your ear with his plush lips. It’s so quick you almost miss it, but you don’t, you definitely feel the plumpness of his moist lips against your skin, the feeling making your eyes flutter closed as you suck in a sharp breath through your nose, memories of his wet skin on yours at the forefront of your mind. “I know exactly what you mean, YN,” Jin whispers, lips still next to your face, “I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to you. I know you’re scared, we all are. But-”

“Jin!” you hear Yoongi yell from down the hall, making Jin release you as both of you scramble to the doorway to see what’s going on. “Ji-” Yoongi’s yell tapered off as he came face to face with the man he was calling for, “Jin, they’re close.”

Without another word, Jin and Yoongi gathered the bags and backpacks. You could feel the dark claws of anxiety crawling up your spine, encasing your being in a cloud of fear. It always started like this, anxiety, fear, and then panic. You couldn’t let your mind get the best of you right now, you needed to make sure that you don’t slow them down, that you don’t burden them anymore than you already have.

“YN, let’s go,” it was Yoongi who spoke this time, a much gentler tone than you’re used to coming from him, “we don’t have much time.”

“I’ve got her, you go. Make sure Jungkook is okay,” Jin whispered the last part, hand on the shorter man’s shoulder who nods in affirmation, “we’ll be there in a minute.”

You could hear the pain in Seokjin’s voice, and it made your own fear bubble up even higher. You could feel it in your throat as Yoongi swiftly turned and ran back down the hallway from where he came. “What’s gonna happen, Jin?” you ask softly, staring at the disappearing form of Yoongi.

Jin lets out a frustrated huff and turns around quickly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and ushering you out of the kitchen. “We don’t have much time, YN, we need to go.”

You nod, unable to verbalize anything more, and follow along with him, jogging slightly to keep up. The only sound you hear is the flip-flopping of your slippers on the concrete floor, an eerie reminder that you were about to make a run for it through a dark forest, completely unprepared. Once you reached the end of the hallway, you entered a door on your right that led into what you can only assume is Namjoon’s room, where the rest of the boys had gathered. When he notices you, Jungkook rushes over and hands you a pair of socks and boots.

“Here,” he says shyly, looking down, “they’re Jimin’s.”

“T-thank you,” you whisper, sitting on the cold floor and slipping your small feet into the much larger boots. As you sat there and laced up the boots, tying them as tight as you can, you hear the soft whispers of Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok from across the room.

“They should be there by now,” Hoseok whispers, “It’s been what… three hours since they left? Yeonjun said it shouldn’t take them more than two.”

“It doesn’t matter, Hobi,” Namjoon sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face, “we can’t lead them directly to Tae and Jimin, that would completely counteract what we’re trying to accomplish.”

“They’re not gonna have any idea what’s going on, Joon,” Hoseok sounds pained when he speaks, “Tae will be so scared.” You’ve never heard Hoseok worried before, usually he wears a calm and collected persona, always one to stand tall amongst chaos, at least from what you’ve seen so far, though you realize you don’t know these men, not really.

Yoongi places a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, a calming presence to him, it seems. “We will get to them, Hobi, I promise,” he whispers, voice low, “but we have to get out of here. According to Yeonjun they were only an hour out last he heard.”

Namjoon moves forward, gesturing for you, Jungkook, and Jin, who were all standing near the door, to come over towards the table where the rest of them were huddled. “YN,” Namjoon addressed you, “you’re going to be with Jin and Jungkook, they’ll keep you safe. You three are going to move quietly, going North out the back of the warehouse. Stick to the trees, don’t go near the tree line where you’ll be visible. Move quickly.”

You nod, along with Jungkook who is standing beside you. Jin, who is behind both of you in a protective stance, speaks lowly, “What about you three?”

“We’re going to head East from the warehouse,” Yoongi drawled, “Once we reach the main road, we're going to head North towards you guys. It might take a while to get there, so you need to keep going, even if we don’t meet up with you, and even if someone gets seperated.”

Hoseok’s lips were pursed into a thin line, hands balled into fists at his sides, “You need to get to them, make sure they’re okay.” You nod in understanding and Hoseok shoots you a grateful look.

Jungkook whimpers next to you, a noise you’ve never heard him make before. When you look at him, he’s biting the flesh of his cheek, hands laced together in front of him. Jin wraps a comforting arm around his front, rubbing his hand across his chest to sooth him. “I don’t want to leave you guys…” he trails off.

Namjoon smiles gently at the younger boy, “We’ll be okay, Kookie. We won't be gone long,” he promises, reaching a hand out to grab onto Jungkook’s making him nod, unable to argue further.

“We need to get going,” Yoongi gruffs, “make sure you keep your phones on, I’ll be tracking you. I sent you the location of where Jimin and Tae should be. It’s a small safe house in the middle of the forest. Scan the area before moving in, make sure no one’s followed you, or them. Don’t communicate with each other through the phones, they could pick up signals.” With one final sympathetic look at Jungkook, Yoongi moves closer to embrace Jin in a quick hug, surprising you. You’ve never seen him show affection before, but you can imagine that he is truly worried about losing those he loves most right now. When he pulls away from Jin he leans over, placing a soft kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. “We’ll see you guys soon,” he says to you, reaching a hand out as if he was going to touch you, but decides against it. Instead, he gives you a soft look, one that you can imagine means, “take care of them.” It scares you, the thought that Yoongi feels like this might be goodbye, but doesn’t want to verbalize it.

You hear Jungkook sniffling from beside you as Hoseok comes over and hugs both men tightly before grabbing his things and waiting outside the door. After Namjoon does the same, he smooths a large hand over your hair, smiling sadly down at you. “I’m sorry, YN,” he whispers, “I wish this wasn’t the world we have to live in.” You understood the meaning behind his words, I’m sorry I brought you here, but you wanted to let him know you didn’t feel that way. You were happy they took you in, but before you could do so, he was making his way towards the exit of the warehouse.

Turning towards Jungkook and Jin, you see them embracing each other tightly, Jin whispering into Jungkook’s ear as he rubs a hand up and down his back. When Jin notices you, he reaches a hand towards you, which you automatically take, and he pulls you into the two of them. When you reach around to hug them both, Jungkook takes you by surprise and wraps his own arm around your middle, laying his cheek on the top of your head.

“We should get going,” Jin whispers, “they could be here any minute.”

“Lead the way,” you say quietly, pulling away from the warmth that is Jungkook.

Once the three of you exited the warehouse, you headed North up a small cliff and into the treeline. When you reached the forest, you turned around to take one last glance at the quarry. Even though you’ve only been here a few days, it still felt like a weird sort of home to you. Looking down on the large concrete building, shrouded in darkness, you said a mental goodbye to the place.

“YN?” Jin said softly into the night, now a few feet in front of you.

“I-I’m coming,” you say back, turning around to face him when you hear a loud bang come from the East, making you jump violently and look in the direction it came from. Not surprisingly, you don’t see anything in the forest, but you do see a couple of birds fly up from the top of the trees and into the night sky, squawking their displeasure at such a loud noise. Before you have a chance to collect yourself, you hear it again. Only this time… it’s closer?

The next thing you know, your wrist is in Jungkook’s hand and the three of you are running through the forest, trees flying past you quicker than you thought possible.

You run for a while, not looking back and keeping your eyes glued to the ground in front of you. You could feel the cool air rushing through your hair as you gained traction. Hand in hand, you and Jungkook sprinted through the forest, the only sound you could make out was the two of your breathing and the loud crunch of dead leaves and underbrush.

“Jin!” you yell, glancing at Jungkook, making him abruptly stop running. You don’t quite stop in time and are yanked back by Jungkook’s hand still wrapped tightly around yours. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, as he’s frantically searching your surroundings for Seokjin. “Hey, hey,” you coo, moving towards him, reaching your free hand up to place on his chest, “it’s okay, Kook.”

His panic stricken face softens at the nickname, but distress is clearly the only emotion he is feeling right now. “He was right b-behind us,” he pants out, eyes blinking rapidly to, you assume, fight back tears threatening to fall, “YN, he was right next to us!”

At that moment, you hear a loud crack of thunder above you, scaring both you and Jungkook as soft sprinkles of rain start to fall over you.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, “it’s okay. You have your phone, right?” He nods in affirmation, “Okay, so does Jin. We just need to get to Jimin and Taehyung and we’ll meet back up with them, okay?” you try to calm the younger boy, despite your own intense fear of losing Jin. You hoped he was fine, just running on a different path than you. Maybe he was slower than Jungkook, definitely a possibility based on how quick the younger was running. You didn’t want to think about other possibilities right now. Not when you have a distraught Jungkook in front of you. You look up into his wide doe eyes and nod your head, “We’ll be okay.”

Jungkook didn’t fully believe you, but decided in that moment he needed to trust you. If he didn’t, he would go crazy with worry for his hyung, for the person he loved more than himself. He knows what he heard were gunshots, you knew it too, you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

Nodding more to himself than to you, Jungkook wraps his hand back around yours, giving it a gentle squeeze to let you know that he’s okay. The rain was starting to fall harder now, and you needed to get moving. You smile gently up at him, which he doesn’t return, understandably. “I-I can’t lose him, YN,” he whimpers, “I can’t lose any of them.”

“I know,” you shush him, thumb rubbing against his knuckles, “I’ve only known you for a few days, but…” you trail off, unsure of what you want to say, or how to say it. Jungkook waits patiently for you to continue, “I-I really care for you and Jin, and the others, too.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand again, “We need to find them.”

“We will,” you say confidently, “let’s look at the map.”

Jungkook lets go of your hand and drops the now wet, large duffle bag he’s been carrying on his back, onto the forest floor. After digging through a front pocket for a moment, he pulls out the small black device, pulling up the location of the twins. Peering over his shoulder, you see it’s about an hour walk to the North. “It’s 4 am now, if we move quickly, we can make it there before day break,” you say, watching Jungkook put his phone in his pocket and slinging the bag back over his shoulder. Nodding, he holds his hand out to you.

Looking up at the handsome boy, you graciously take his hand, “Lead the way.”

The walk was mostly uneventful, and surprisingly quiet. The two of you didn’t hear any more noises in the night, aside from the falling rain and occasional crack of thunder, and you didn’t speak much to one another, other than a few ‘you okay’s’. It was nearing 5 am, and you and Jungkook just made your way through some trees and into a clearing. The sun was just barely starting to peak over the mountains in the East. As you look to your right, you see the light blue and purple hues covered in gray clouds just breaking over the mountain tops. The two of you were shivering, even though it was summer, the cool rain and lack of sunlight dropped the temperature a significant amount. Not to mention you’re wearing shorts and a tank top with a flimsy cardigan, all of which were now soaked through.

“We’re almost there,” Jungkook’s soft voice breaks your attention away from the sunrise as you turn towards him to see him looking down at his phone, “only about ten minutes to go…”

Jungkook’s voice trailed off into almost a whisper, his eyes locked onto something far behind you as he slowly slid his phone into his back pocket. Curious, you turn to look over your shoulder, but Jungkook is quicker as he grabs onto your elbow, turning you back towards him, pulling you violently into his chest, your face sticking to his wet t-shirt. Protectively, he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you with him as he backs up slowly. Fear was threatening to take hold of you, you could feel eyes on you, like you were being watched, and whatever Jungkook thought he saw seemed to be a threat if he was willingly holding you close like this.

Jungkook could feel you tremble in his hold, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort you, but right now he didn’t know how to do that. He could hear something moving in the treeline, barely audible over the sound of the storm, and he knows you haven’t heard it yet. His eyes are darting back and forth through the dimly lit forest, searching for any answer as to what is lurking out there. Slowly, he starts to back up with you, inching towards the opposite end of the clearing.

You willingly let Jungkook pull you away, trusting him completely in that moment. “Jungkook,” you whisper softly against his chest.

He shushes you lightly, “I hear something.” His voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear him, but as you realize what he’s just said, you hear the crunching of twigs behind you. Both of your bodies stiffen at the noise and you peer up at him through your long lashes, eyes wide and glistening, a silent plea.

Jungkook looks down at you, taking his eyes off the dark trees, round doe eyes meeting yours as his heart rate picks up, swallowing thickly, he mutters his next words quietly. “We can’t go to them,” his voice is sad, longing for his friends, “it’s not safe.”

You nod, chin rubbing against Jungkook’s sternum. The gravity of the situation has yet to set in for the both of you. Yoongi told you to scout the area before heading towards the twins, to make sure you weren’t leading anyone right to them. Running away from them means they’ll all be safe and hopefully the older boys will make it there soon, but it also means you could be running directly into the enemy, who would undoubtedly take you. Would they take both of you? Or just you? You didn’t want to think about that right now, all you needed to do was get as far away from the others as possible, to lead those who meant them harm, away.

More wet cracking and crunching noises sounded behind you, startling Jungkook and making him break eye contact with you, eyes searching for danger. “On the count of three, we run,” he whispered, “we head West, away from the others.”

You nod again in affirmation, tears clouding your vision as you wrap your arms around Jungkook’s small waist, hugging him tightly, bottom lip trembling. “One,” you hear Jungkook sniffle, voice breaking slightly, “two,” he looks down at you one last time, letting a single tear drop onto your already wet cheeks. You nod at him, letting him know it’s okay.

“Three.”

“Did Yeonjun say when they would come for us?” Taehyung whines, sitting at the small table in the safe house. It was a small, run down cottage hidden in the woods, but it was secluded, it was warm, and hopefully, safe.

“Not really,” Jimin said from the kitchen sink, filling up his cupped hands with water to splash on his face, “he just said that we were about an hour away from them. We have everything we need here, they’ll come for us Tae, don’t worry.” Jimin was always a pillar of strength in their duo, always the voice of reason. “Besides, it was raining all night, it just barely stopped, they probably took shelter for a while.”

“The sun’s been up for a few hours,” Tae whispers, biting his lip, “do you think they’re okay?”

“Tae, they-”

Jimin is cut off by the sound of laughter outside the cottage. Looking at Tae, both of the faces light up at the sound of their friends, their lovers. They haven’t seen them in months, the anticipation would surely kill them both, so they rush to the front door, slamming it open to see Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon coming through a break in the trees. Seokjin and Hoseok we’re giggling about something in the back of the group, but upon seeing the twins, all four men rushed forward to greet them. Jimin and Taehyung embrace all of them individually, placing sweet kisses on them, only to receive the same treatment in return.

After they all greet one another with laughs and hugs, Seokjin’s smile falters, looking behind Jimin to the door of the safe house, head cocking to the side. “Where’s Kook and YN? They got here a while ago, didn’t they?”

Jimin’s brow furrowed at the question. “What do you mean? No one else has been here except us.”

Immediately, chaos breaks out. Jin runs at Yoongi, anger clear on his face, as he grabs him by the collar, “You said they would be here!” he roars, shaking the shorter man slightly, “I told you I needed to go back for them when I met up with you guys, you said they would be fine!”

“Jin,” Namjoon says calmly, placing a hand on his elders shoulder, “let him go.”

Jin sucks in a sharp breath through his nose as he drops Yoongi to the ground, feet crunching the sticks and leaves there. “Explain.”

Yoongi looks scared as he pulls his phone from his pocket, “They were here!” he exclaims, looking at the trackers he installed on all of their phones, “Jungkook’s phone pinged less than half a mile to the South, look!”

Yoongi shoves his phone in Jin’s face, the others crowding around to get a look. Sure enough, Jungkook’s pin was flashing, only about a quarter mile from their current location. “B-but,” Yoongi stuttered out, “that was five hours ago. Fuck.”

“That was the last ping you have from him?” Hoseok asks, lips pulled into a thin line, Taehyung’s hand grasped in his own.

Yoongi nods solemnly, scrolling through his phone for answers. “That was the last ping. I figured they would’ve been here, and the kid turned his phone off.” He looks up at Jimin and Taehyung, who both shake their heads, looking down at the ground.

“Well, what the fuck are we doing standing around?” Jin growls, “Let’s go!”

Namjoon steps up again, hands held up placatingly, “Jin, it’s not safe. We don’t know what-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Joon! Of course it’s not safe, and you know who else isn’t safe?!” His voice is echoing in the woods around them, “Jungkook and YN. They could be- could be-” he breaks off, lips slightly parted, eyes shaking at the possibilities on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s okay, Jin. We will find them, I promise. Right now, we need to make sure everyone else is safe and come up with a plan. Okay?” Namjoon smooths a hand over Jin’s dark hair that seems to be getting longer every day. Jin nods, eyes falling shut in defeat.

The rest of the group looked on in despair. They all cared for Jungkook, and those who have met you cared for you as well, but no one cared for Jungkook more than Seokjin. He raised the younger boy, cared for him, had the strongest relationship with him. He would give his own life again and again to make sure Jungkook was happy and healthy and he was beginning to feel the same way for you. He didn’t even have a chance to tell you before you left the warehouse earlier, despite how badly he had wanted to, and now he has to deal with the possibility that he’s lost both of you.

To be continued...

A/N: thanks for reading and making it this far! woo, we finally get to meet Jimin and Tea (kind of), but also... even more drama. what do you think happened to Kook and YN? let me know I love hearing your theories!

taglist: @mrsstilinski96 @sammiilynn10192 @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible @kooksremedy @irishhbamb @sugashaye @lovelyseomin @strawberrygatorade

the names with a strike through couldn’t be tagged :(

#bts ot7 smut #jungkook x reader #seokjin smut #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #cypherwritersnet

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dowoonie-namjoonie · 3 years

Text

All You Need is Confidence

Paring: Teacher!Jae x Student!Reader x Teacher!Wonpil

A/N: IDK why but I’m on a student-teacher kick, probably because I’ve been watching PLL again so...ENJOY! BTW, if you like this I’m probably going to make it a series because why not! If this does make you uncomfy, I suggest you don’t read it.

Warnings: Student-teacher relationships, poly relationship, slight age gap, minor language, and suggestive themes.

(Unedited, and also there will be a second part!)

High school was not fun, you know how people say it’s one of the best times in your life, well you have reason to disagree. Senior year was the most stressful to you, purely because of the inevitable change from childhood to adulthood when you go to college. That pressure to instantly grow up scared the ever-living shit out of you without fail.

However, school wasn’t always that bad, your senior year was bad, yes. But, three people in your life made sure on their lives that you’d have the best year ever. Number 1, your best friend Kang Younghyun. Both you and him were senior this year, Younghyun always had a higher work ethic than you. Motivated to do anything and everything, honestly, his main goal was to travel the world by himself. By far, he was the most daring, independent person you’d ever met, he had confidence practically radiating off of him. So, you can imagine that there was never a dull moment with him.

Number 2 and 3 go hand in hand. Mr. Park Jaehyung and Mr. Kim Wonpil, they made sure the hallways were a safe place and more importantly that class was never plain. Mr. Park and Mr. Kim are best friends from what you know ever, they even went to this high school just like you and Younghyun. Even though they were best buds, they were complete opposites.

Mr. Park’s english class was eventful. Mr. Park hated homework so he rarely gave it, said he “doesn’t believe in it.” Most of the time he’d spend class talking to kids about video games, giving so advice to novices to the games he liked. Of course he actually taught...once a month maybe! Mr. Park was just one of those cool teachers who didn’t teach, but yet someone taught you everything you need to know about the world. Weird how that happens. Commonly, people knew him as a young teacher-same with Mr. Kim-even romanticizing the man. Most of your girlfriends swooned over either one of the teachers: But, hey you had to admit it, you definitely had a crush on Mr. Park.

Mr. Kim, on the other hand, taught a tedious government class. Mr. Kim seemed to always be second whenever compared to Mr. Park, it kinda made you feel guilty having liking the one out of the two. They both were equally good people, but since Mr. Park is barely a teacher people just like him more. You see, Mr. Kim taught, there was nothing he loved more than giving 30 slides worth of a powerpoint, making you take pain-staking notes every-other day. Mr. Kim was popular more on his visuals and how shy he was. Mr. Kim could get flustered about anything and everything, once a kid in your class asked to go to the bathroom because he needed to take a shit, and Mr. Kim blushed rocking back and forth on his chair all because how the kid worded his sentence. Mr. Kim was adorable in a I-can-make-fun-of-him way, maybe it was teenage hormones but you had a crush on him too. Ah, but the crushes you had would never go anywhere...right?

Anyway, the theme between them two was that you always went to them when you were upset. Both teacher took a liking to you because of your playful nature and natural sense of what they taught. Your intelligence seemed to impress most people, but you had to admit when you had your downfalls, especially when learning what the difference of absolute monarchy and constitutional monarchy. Civics wasn’t your strong suit. In english class, Mr. Park would make you stand out from the class making fun of every detail about you, Mr. Kim had empathy for you. Tutoring you in a heartbeat whenever you had trouble in his class, which seemed frequent. No matter how much Mr. Kim would hate to admit it, but he didn’t mind your merciless teasing, so of course you were his favorite student. Still, they both helped you through thick and thin. Like today.

Today, today was not your day. Earlier this morning Younghyun told you he was going home early sick, so you needed to get another ride home. Or you’d have to take the bus home, which was a no-go for you since taking the public bus freaked you out. You don’t know, the fact anyone could sit next to you made you paranoid. What if it was a serial killer, who planned on following you home and killing you? See, paranoid.

Then this girl in your class ruined your whole project, a fucking group project, those you despise. Why was it fair to be partnered up with people who, simply, didn’t care about their grade just like you did. This girl proved this fact almost definitely, for your chemistry class, you were supposed to build a representation on how electrical currents go through objects. You being you, took on the roll easily, priding yourself with most of the difficult things. The one thing she needed to do, that ignorant bimbo, was to bring a potato and toaster. So, the chemistry project was left with an F.

When you got frustrated you cried, unfortunately this flaw was seen by everyone in your chemistry class. Leaving you the laughing stock of the school for at least the next few weeks. The stares from people-even the mocking laughing, made your spiral. And why, all because of a stupid girl who couldn’t do her part in a simple project. Embarrassing yourself further, you decided to run out of class to the nearest person who could help calm you down.

Panic filled you as you ran through the, just nearly, populated hallways. As you sobbed down, people looked at you like you were some crazy person on the brink of a full-blown breakdown. In these situation where you had minor panic attacks, you would run to yours and Younghyun’s meeting place. The janitors closet that no-one dared to go into, no one but you and Younghyun. Since, he left earlier because he’s sick, there was only one other place where you could go besides the unhelpful guidance counselors that would give you shitty life advice and send you back to class. No, Mr. Park could help you, he always managed to make you feel better.

People were insatiable, desperately trying to shatter you into a million pieces as you made your way to Mr. Park’s english room. Thankfully, and ironically, for you the bell had rung in the knick of time. Mr. Kim noticed a heap of students outside his classroom, crowded together whispering insults at god knows what. When he heard your name strun into the mix, he realized you were standing in the middle of this crowd, holding yourself trying to hide your tears.

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Kim exclaimed, grabbing the attention of the students, who seemed more flabbergasted than anything. Mr. Kim never yelled. “Clear out, now!”

The man had never looked more serious, a demanding tone riddled in his voice, his eyes like a black-hole to those who opposed him, and his hands put on his hips. So, this is what he’s like when he’s angry. His anger helped you, students cleared out into other room, lingering students were shoved away into the bathrooms fearing of a write up. Still, you stayed on the ground hiding your tears, Mr. Kim coming up in front of you, the tap of his shoes alerted you.

“Y/N,” he started, voice getting closer as he kneeled down. Sure, he’s seen you upset thousands of times, but out of those times you haven’t cried once. There was no time due to your whining and yelling about whatever set you off that day. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Mr. Kim was concerned, per usual he had empathy for you, upset himself because you were crying. He could never tell why, but he hated when you were angry or sad, he just couldn’t stand it.

“N-No...,” you whipped a tear, looking up at his face. Being met with pure handsomeness, but there was no time to be entranced by his record-breaking looks. “Can-Can you take me to Mr. Parks...please, I need to talk to him-to both of you. Is that okay?”

Mr. Kim was taken aback, luckily for him and Mr. Park had no class, lunch break comes with perks. “Of course it’s okay, let’s go, everything will be okay.” Mr. Kim put a hand on your back, tapping you lightly to encourage you to get up. Complying, both of you made it to Mr. Park’s, just catching him in the middle of taking a bit of his tuna sandwich.

“Oh hello...oh no,” his sandwich dropped onto the desk upon seeing you blotchy face. Uncomfortable sight to see. “Y/N, Wonpil what’s going on?”

Mr. Kim lead you to a nearby desk, out of all the empty ones he put you directly in front of the teachers desk.

“I’m not sure,” Mr. Kim started, backing away from you as you convulsed with a sobbing fit. “I found her like this in the hallway.”

Mr. Park clicked his tongue, looking around his desk for some unused tissue and a free water bottle. Oddly enough he had both of those things tucked away in his desk. Strutting over to you, he gently held the tissue up to your face, dapping off some stray tears, in the process placing the water bottle next to you.

“Just calm down okay,” Mr. Park muttered, focused on cleaning you up.

Mr. Kim came up behind him, reaching for the water bottle and opening it up for you. Carefully, Mr. Park withdrew his hand, letting Mr. Kim give you some water. Even then, you didn’t calm down, concerning both of the men when you started hyperventilating. Today was just one of those days. The whole ordeal rang through your head, no one could ever look at you the same ever again. Look at you now crying in front of two men, who you adore, sullying everything they knew about you. The thought that your life was over made your panic attack protrude, increasing your talent of overthinking.

“What’s going on Jae,” Wonpil kept his eyes on you with pure worry in his eyes. Wonpil has never experienced a panic attack before, let alone even seen one in person.

“She’s having a panic attack um...I’ve got this.”

Mr. Park stepped up to you again, making sure you could only focus on him. He placed his hand on your lower thing, squeezing lightly, placing his forehead against yours. Both him and you made a deep eye contact, calmingly he said “Y/N, calm down, everything’s going to be okay.” When you didn’t respond to him, instead you ignored him, he began tapping in a pattern on your thighs.

“Y/N,” he tried again, keeping up with the pattern. “Focus on my fingers, okay? Focus on how I’m tapping you, okay?”

Listening to him, you began to calm down, feeling his tapping. One time on the right, next on the left, then on the right, then on the left...

“That’s it,” he began, not giving up on the tapping, pulling you back to reality.

“I’m okay...okay...I’m okay,” you spoke up, swallowing back the horrible panic you just felt.

Mr. Park pulled back, proud of himself that his efforts to calm you down worked, Jae was experienced with panic attacks. Although it killed him to see you like that, he’s just glad you came here for him to help you.

With the tissue, you rubbed your face and nose of any liquid that came out of you. Both men looked at you in waiting for your next move, they didn’t know what could throw you off.

But, someone had to speak up at some point. “Do you want to talk about it Y/N?” Mr. Park’s question made you shake, Mr. Kim noticed this nodding him off.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Mr. Kim spoke, putting a loving smile on his face to hopefully not start up another panic attack. “Um...Why don’t we do something? Yea, like...” Wonpil was at a loss, looking over to his best friend for something that could distract you in this moment.

“Y-Yea,” Mr. Park perked up, jumping to his desk to find anything to help you regulate yourself. The only thing he had that was remotely fun and not school work, was a Christmas word search he’d given the freshman class he taught yesterday. “This, we can do this word search!”

“Yes, a word search!” Both teachers yelled excitedly, Mr. Park placed the word search on his desk, Mr. Kim beckoning you to come over to them to do the word puzzle.

You knew what they were trying to do, but really you were in exactly no position to deny the men who just helped you through that. After all, they were making you feel better. Like a snail, you slid off the desk, trudging your way over to both of the enthusiastic men sitting in Mr. Park’s spinny chair that they pulled out just for you. Mr. Kim placed a pencil in your hand, sliding the paper more towards you, meanwhile Mr. Park pulled up two chairs for him and Mr. Kim to sit in next to you. Sitting down next to you, the both watched you complete the puzzle, randomly helping you throughout.

Mr. Park and Mr. Kim had a secret, an unspoken secret between the two of them. Even if it was left untouched and talked about, both men new that both of them had a crush on you. They were disappointed, even discussed in themselves that they liked you, but you didn’t make it any easier either. They felt the need to protect you, constantly, the need to make you happy when no one else could are their duties. For Jae, he started to like you when you promptly scolded him for being a horrible teacher, but an amazing guy. From that day forward, you and Jae formed a bond where you made fun of eachother with hidden love. For Wonpil, it’s when you defended him when people were making fun of the way he got flustered. He just knew you were the one, no ones ever defended him that way. The more you came to talk to them, the more their feeling began to grow for you. Ditto, same thing happening to you.

All of it happened so fast, Mr. Park was lost in thought about you. Delicately, he watched you as you tried to figure out the puzzle. Even though your face was red, eyes swollen, and nose runny Jae still admired your looks. The way your face was scrunch up in determination to defeat the puzzle, the way you bit your lip, or the way your soft looking hair fell on your face-

Reaching out his bigger hand, he wisped a stray piece a hair from out of your face, getting a better look at your beauty. But then you turned to him, with your wide E/C eyes and a cute pout on your face, he just couldn’t help himself. His hand moved from your, now proven, soft hair. Stroking his way to cup your cheek, his callassed thumb ran across your bottom lip. The plumpness fueling him more, before you both knew it his lips were on yours. His lips encased yours, the sudden feeling making you whimper under him, the only word to describe how it felt was euphoric. First you were shocked, not expecting your teacher to touch you, let alone kiss you. Then, a feeling bubbled in you, your stupid crush and all the fantasies you’ve had about him made you melt into him. Closing your eyes, beginning to kiss him back, your hand met grasped his shirt, pulling him further into you. Kissing Mr. Park was something else.

#day6 #day6 wonpil #day6 jaehyung #Park jaehyung #Jae #Kim wonpil #wonpil #day6 fluff #student-teacher #forbidden romance #day6 network #day6 fanfic

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Ah, what a way to finish the first school week--a brand new chapter! I hope you enjoy! I am pleased by how long it is! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated--reblogs too! My brain is mush so now I shall go an Netflix! Enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Eight

"Why can't I come?"

The seven year old glowered at her aunt as Jack moved around in the kitchen retrieving the ingredients needed to make slime. Normally creating such a monstrosity would've excited the child, as Agatha usually forbade the stuff in the house, but Zoe seemed more concerned about the woman's agenda with the vampire. After all, she found Dracula fascinating. A potential friend-though, not truly understanding what he really was.

"It's a trip for adults." Agatha sighed, grabbing her purse. "Besides, you get to visit with Jack. You're always talking about him coming over."

"Yeah." Zoe replied, hands on her hips. "But he's not Mr. Dracula."

"Zoe, that's very rude." Her aunt chided-but thank god for that. "You apologize to Jack now."

"Sorry." She muttered under her breath, rubbing her feet against the floor. "But can't I come with you, please?! I promise to be good! 'Sides, Mr. Dracula is new here! What if he gets lost? He might need my help!"

"He won't and he certainly doesn't need anything from you." Agatha realized the harshness in her tone and inhaled. "Zoe, listen to me." She bent down to meet her niece at eye level. "You'll have more fun here with Jack. Mr. Dracula…" Her nose scrunched at the name. "And I have business to attend to. It'll be very boring, I guarantee it."

"And I brought glitter." Jack added, smiling as he picked up a tiny, sparkling container. "It's rainbow!"

"Just try not to get it everywhere." Agatha snorted, pecking Zoe on the cheek. "Have fun you two and don't get slime on my furniture. It took forever to get out last time."

"Okay, Aunt Aggie." The little girl exhaled. "I love you! Tell Mr. Dracula I said hi!"

"I love you too." The woman replied, knowing very well she wouldn't be fulfilling her niece's wishes on the second part. "Be good for Jack."

She tried not to think about how big of a mess her kitchen would be in when she returned. However, all concerns about that immediately dissipated the moment she stepped outside. There, standing on the curb, was none other than Dracula himself. He gave her a toothy grin as he opened the passenger door. Agatha's eyes flickered to the driver's seat where Frank Renfield gave her a nervous smile and a quick wave. There was no way in Hell. Not a single, solitary way in the underworld she'd be getting in a car with him where she wasn't in control of the vehicle.

"I thought it would be best if we had a chauffeur." The vampire explained, motioning for her to get in. "That way we can get to know each other even more." He chuckled and gave a small shrug. "Not to mention he knows his way around just as much as you do. Now we don't have to worry about you being distracted when we drive."

"I didn't agree to this." Agatha replied firmly, folding her arms. "Any of this."

"Oh come now, Sister Agatha." The Count called out smugly. "Live a little-well, one of us has to."

Just the very look of Frank's expression sent chills down her back. He wasn't a threatening man, at least in a physical sense, but something about him didn't settle right. And it didn't help that there was a valid reason that this had been constructed alongside Bloxham. At least she wasn't the driver, everything was unbearable enough as it was.

"Fine." The woman resigned. "But we stick to the approved locations, no detours." Now that she thought of it, she hadn't exactly gotten the list of places they were going. "Just get in so we can get this night over with."

"Ladies first." The vampire bowed, motioning for Agatha to step inside. She knocked purposely hard into his shoulder as she climbed in. His mouth twitched into a sneer as he slid in beside her, much to her discomfort. "I think we're ready to go to our first stop." His eyes met those of the former nun. "The Prospect of Whitby!"

Agatha barely acknowledged Frank's sheepish greeting as she stared with great fixation out of the window. She could feel Dracula watching her, waiting for her to finally turn around and address him. But her attention remained glued to the trees and cars that zoomed by as they drove into the inner, more populated part of the town.

"I thought you could use some dinner." The vampire suggested, finally breaking through the silence. "And during my research as well as Frank's recommendations," he nodded to the driver. "This seemed like the perfect location. Did you know tavern itself claims to be the oldest around dating back to around 1520? Fascinating that such a place could possibly be nearly a century younger than me."

"Just because I'm forced to keep an eye on you doesn't mean I'm interested in the history of my basket of fish and chips." She retorted. "And I'm not hungry."

"Nevertheless, we're going in." The vampire stated as Frank pulled up to the curb. "Mr. Renfield, if you'll just wait out here with the car."

"Oh!" The lawyer spoke up softly. "I thought it would be alright if I came in and…"

"Your presence is not needed nor wanted." The Count exclaimed with a dismissive wave. "Come, Agatha, we have a table for two reserved."

If given the choice of publicly eating a meal in front of Dracula or stepping through a hallway of hot coals, legos, and thumb tacks, the last option sounded far more appealing. She didn't take the vampire's hand as he held it out towards her, merely exiting the car and slamming the door roughly behind her. A small part of her felt bad for Frank, a part that felt guilty that he was roped into this night. But the bigger part of her blamed him and she secretly hoped something would happen whilst they were inside.

"Vlad Balaur."

Agatha internally groaned as Dracula grinned at the hostess causing her to blush. If she really knew what she was, that flattered expression would've morphed into one of horror. She sucked in her cheeks as she followed the young woman to a small table with rather intimate lighting.

"Oh, we only need one menu." The vampire explained to the lady. "We're here for her. I have...allergies." And when he spoke, his eyes were fixed on the innocent hostess's jugular. Agatha kicked him hard under the table causing his attention to travel back to the woman's eyes. "Yes, just one will do."

"You're disgusting." Agatha hissed under her breath as the woman walked away.

"So you're telling me that if you saw a divine burger you wouldn't salivate?" Dracula countered.

"What does a burger have to do with anything?!" She replied almost flustered. "And...and it's not like it's still breathing." Frowning, she snatched up the menu and pretended to read it. "How long are you going to force me to sit here before we can go?"

"Until you order something." The man replied simply. "I'll pay, of course."

"This isn't a date!" She snapped, firmly setting the menu down. "So don't act like it is!"

"I wouldn't dream of it." The corners up his lips twitched in slight amusement. "But I am humored that the thought even came to your mind."

Before Agatha could retaliate, a waiter approached the table. The former nun exhaled softly through her nose and straightened up in her chair. Better not lose it in the middle of a crowd. Bloxham would have her head and Dracula would most certainly enjoy that.

"Can I start you off with anything?" The man asked, looking between the two. "Might I recommend the fish and chips? We are known for having the best in Whitby. Fresh cod caught today!"

An interesting thought came to Agatha's mind. An idea she didn't consider until now. Forcing a smile, she picked up her menu once more. Dracula had offered to pay after all. Who was stopping her from ordering the most expensive items available?

"I'll have the eight ounce sirloin." She read out loud, her eyes scanning the drink section. "And the Champagne Lallier Grand Cru Grande Réserve Brut-the full bottle." Agatha grinned at the waiter as she handed the menu back. "Thank you."

The man nodded and disappeared, leaving the two alone once more. Feeling rather proud of herself, Agatha leaned back a little in her seat as the vampire watched her with great interest. Clearly, it had been a move he hadn't expected. Check mate.

"I thought you didn't drink?" Dracula inquired, a brow raised in surprise.

"I don't." The former nun smirked. "But you offered to pay and I thought it'd make for a nice centerpiece."

"Well played, Agatha Van Helsing." The vampire chuckled, causing the woman to frown a little. "It's not often that I'm surprised. A shame though for such an expensive bottle to go to waste. What, pray tell, do you plan to do with it if you aren't going to drink it?"

"I don't tell my enemies my ideas." She replied, folding her arms. "But I can think of a few things." A thought flickered in her mind for a brief second of her bashing the bottle against the wall and using it as a makeshift stake. "I suppose I'll keep it with me for a special occasion. For now."

"Until then," the vampire answered. "I shall wait with bated breath."

Not long after the wine discussion, Agatha's meal was brought from the kitchen. As much as she hated to admit it, the smell was heavenly. She thought back to the hostess and wondered if that's what Dracula meant by divinely appetizing. The former nun stared at her steak and tried her best to will herself against consuming it. But oh how it smelled so heavenly.

"The last thing I'd wish to do is make you feel uncomfortable by you eating alone while I merely watch." Dracula exclaimed. "But I think you'd prefer that over me joining you in my own matter."

Absentmindedly, the former nun picked up her fork and poked at the juicy meat. Tender. Cooked to perfection. There was a reason this place had lasted for centuries. Slowly, she cut herself a small piece and pushed it past her lips. Then another. And another.

"A glass of wine to go with that?" Dracula smirked.

Agatha merely frowned around her utensil and continued to eat until there was nothing left. Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she set it upon the empty plate. Maybe she'd take Jack or Mrs. Avery here some time to thank them for watching Zoe. For now, she dreamed of nothing more than leaving the damn place. Whether or not it was her imagination, the lights seemed to be dimming around them.

"I'm glad to see you mostly enjoyed your meal." Dracula commented as he flagged the waiter down. "I'll pay, as promised. Perhaps next time you can pick the restaurant?"

As her fingers gripped the neck of the bottle, Agatha had to refrain from bashing the thing on top of the vampire's head. Not surprisingly, Frank was still seated out front in the car just as they had left him. A light drizzle began to spill from the sky and Dracula miraculously produced an umbrella. He held it out towards Agatha who immediately rejected it. Rolling his eyes, the man found his place in the car beside her.

"So we went to a historic tavern." Agatha exhaled, looking to the vampire. "Is that not enough of an adventure for you for one night?"

"Not quite." Dracula admitted. "I said I had an itinerary, Agatha. I really did mean it." He could see the look of detest on her face. "Alright, for you, I will compromise. I just ask that we go to two more places and then we'll call it a night. Do we have an agreement?"

"I don't suppose I really have a choice in the matter." The former nun exhaled in defeat. "Fine, two more places, then you're taking me home and leaving me be." However long that would last.

"Sounds reasonable enough." The vampire nodded. "Frank, if you would."

The rain began to fall harder as the pair, along with their driver, drove in awkward silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Agatha noticed Dracula fiddling with some app on his phone. As he continuously swiped his index finger across the screen, her curiosity got the better of her.

"What are you doing?" She inquired, craning her neck to get a better look. "Is that...is that a dating site?!"

"Well, I suppose if one chose to use it as such it could be." The vampire replied simply, locking his phone. "But from what I've learned it can be used for other reasons."

"You mean sex." And her nose crinkled at the thought of him screwing anyone. "If you're…"

"I'm not, nor do I plan to." His eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror where Frank stared back at him intently. "At least for awhile. I understand the rules. However, there is nothing in the bylaws that says I can't at least explore my options. Whether they be sexual or flavorful." The vampire's lips curved into a suggestive smile. "Temptation is one of the greatest sins, Agatha. But I am sure as a nun you are well aware of that. Or...rather were."

"Well, your account will be tracked nonetheless." Agatha said quietly, ignoring his attempt at provoking her. "I'm sure Mr. Renfield will see to it. Bloxham would want to know." Her eyes locked on to Frank's. "As a precaution."

"I haven't decided which best describes your treatment of me yet." Dracula chuckled as the vehicle began to slow in front of a building. "Am I a child or a prisoner to you? Perhaps both? Your nagging behavior might otherwise irritate me, but tonight is for excitement." And with his hands, he gestured to their next stop. "Behold!"

At first, the former nun thought she was seeing things. As she exited the car, she once again forwent Dracula's umbrella. The rain poured down in heavy torrents soaking her hair and clothes. But that was a concern not at the top of her mind.

Agatha's lips pressed into a firm line as she stood alongside Dracula outside of Pleasureland Amusements. When the vampire had insisted they spend the night exploring what Whitby had to offer, she hadn't expected to be coerced into going to an arcade. A place where she begrudgingly had taken Zoe more than once for a friend's birthday party.

"Perhaps I should've read up on this more." The vampire commented, breaking the silence. "I assumed Pleasureland meant something quite different." His eyes flickered to meet hers. "You should have said something."

"I should have said something?!" Agatha scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "You are the one who picked this place out. I assumed you knew what you were doing."

"Well, you are the one who is supposed to properly introduce me to the town after all." Dracula countered with a smirk. "I could've easily gone alone, but that would breach some form of the contract–on your side." He shrugged and through her a false sheepish look. "I suppose we better go inside then. See what you humans call entertainment nowadays."

The former nun rolled her eyes as the man began to walk towards the entrance. "I'm tired of playing games with you!" But he merely waved his hand dismissively before disappearing into the crowd. "Arsehole…"

The sound of the rain was immediately placed by the excited, shrill cries of patrons and whirling games as Agatha stepped into the building. It was almost overwhelming. She stood in this world of towering machines that flashed and flickered, beckoning for her to draw closer and take her coinage. It wasn't until someone grabbed her by the forearm that she snapped to.

"Looking for me?"

The Transylvanian Count grinned at her, illuminated from behind by a pinball machine. Agatha pulled away and sucked in a breath. She hated it here, and quite frankly despised it even more. But this was for her job. This was for Zoe. So if she had to suffer by playing sticky games and cramming endless tickets into her pockets, so be it.

"What do you want to play?!" She nearly had to scream over the chao sound. "I know you are going to ask, but I have no preference."

"Actually, this one piqued my interest." Dracula replied obnoxiously cheerful. "This way."

She followed him, still dripping wet and slightly cold from the elements outside until they stood in front of a game. The timeless classic Skeeter's Ball. One is given a certain number of balls and you attempt to roll them into holes with different amounts of points in an attempt to get a high score. Agatha had never been good at this game. On one occasion, she rolled a ball so hard it flew and hit someone on the back of their head. Maybe that was one of the main reasons she couldn't stand this place.

"You go first." The vampire said as six balls rolled down. "To demonstrate."

"Okay." Agatha sighed, lifting up the weighted object. "But I'm not very good at this." With that, she gave the ball a hard roll. Not to her surprise, it landed in the lowest hole-100 points. "I told you. Now you go."

With lightning speed and precision, the vampire stepped forward and aimed for his target. The ball barely bounced before it landed in the center, 500 points. Agatha gawked as Dracula beamed with pride at his accomplishment.

"Beginner's luck!" She insisted, snatching up another ball before thrusting it into his hands. "Try again!"

Just as before, Dracula rolled and landed the bonus hole as before. As the game chimed in congratulations, the former nun frowned, feeling oddly competitive. Suddenly, she felt Dracula move behind her.

"What are you doing?!" She snapped, completely caught off guard.

"I'm assisting you." Dracula said, taking a hold of her forearm. "Trust me, you look rather pathetic rolling like that. Allow me to show you how it's really done."

The vampire's grasp was firm, but not strong enough that if Agatha so chose to, she could break away. Lifting up a ball, she allowed him to ease her wrist forward, fingers curled around the ball. When she finally let it go, it rolled smoothly up the ramp before landing in the 400 point hole.

"Not too bad." Dracula nodded, letting her go. "Perhaps if you practice for a few centuries, you'll be as good as me."

"Apparently living several centuries also increased your ego." Agatha snorted, trying to hold back a smile. "What next?"

"Hm…" The man pondered as he looked around. "Now that looks worthy of our attention!"

Agatha turned to see a large claw machine filled with plushies of all sorts. She pictured Zoe standing right in the center, her bright blue eyes lit up in excitement. The things were usually rigged, from her experience at least, but this was Dracula's place of choice so she didn't argue against it.

"How enthralling." Dracula murmured as he studied the throttle. "What an odd contraption!" He turned to Agatha with a grin. "What shall I aim for?"

She shrugged. "Something close to the top or near the drop box. If it looks crammed, don't go for it. It's hard to even win something." Her lips pursed as she watched him stare at the game in complete wonder. "Be strategic. I suppose like you're in battle."

The vampire straightened up and smirked at her words. "For that, I shall win you that purple blob looking thing."

The former nun gave a half smile and rolled her eyes. "That's supposed to be an elephant...I think." She paused. "And you don't have to win me anything."

"Then it'll be a gift for Zoe." He replied, gaze now fixed on his victim. "And you don't have to tell her that I won it. I know how you are. Though I wouldn't ever hurt her…" His fingers delicately maneuvered the throttle. "It's been over a century since I've done such a thing…"

Agatha felt her stomach twist at the thought of his words. For a brief moment, she had forgotten about what he was. As she opened her mouth to question him further, to her shock, he managed to snag the toy. The vampire let out a triumph 'ha' as the object fell down the chute and into the box.

"I have many hidden talents it would seem." Dracula exclaimed as he retrieved the toy. "I believe this belongs to you."

Slightly hesitant, Agatha accepted the elephant from the vampire. She looked it over somewhat turned off by it's sickly cute appearance. Exhaling, her attention returned to Dracula. Clearly seeing she was growing weary of the place, the Count cleared his throat.

"One more game." He posed, nodding towards an air hockey table. "And I promise it will be worth your while."

Out of all the games, this one seemed to be less populated. Agatha set the elephant down and stood on one side of the table. Dracula smiled at her, his hand already on a paddle. The game was pretty self explanatory which made the former nun question why he'd choose it to be their last.

"We will play the game as usual, but bend the rules just slightly." He instructed. "Whoever makes a point against the other player gets to ask them a question. Any sort of question. Personal or not. And the loser must answer." Dracula gave a knowing smirk. "And while I could easily find everything out about you in a matter of seconds, this seemed like a fun start."

She pushed away the eeriness of his words. "Alright then." She nodded, gripping her paddle. "You're on."

It didn't take long before the puck found its way into Agatha's hole. Not that she was shocked by that loss. Grumbling to herself, she retrieved it and placed it back in the center.

"Ask away."

"Have you always been in Holland? Or were before England?" Dracula inquired. "I know Abraham was Dutch, so after everything he decided to go back to the lovely land of windmills?"

"Yes," Agatha admitted. "I was born in Holland and stayed in Holland until Zoe's parents…" She shook her head. "Well, now I'm clearly in England. Again."

The next round lasted a few seconds longer than the first with Agatha scoring the goal. However, she knew Dracula had intentionally planned it that way. Still, it was a chance to ask him a question he couldn't refuse.

"Why are you afraid of the cross?"

Dracula let out a laugh so loud it just about startled the woman. "Come now, Agatha." He snickered in amusement. "I ask you something easy and you go ahead and cut right to the chase. Well, I suppose I shouldn't expect any less coming from you." He sighed as he studied the puck between his fingers. "Have you thought about what the cross stands for?"

"Of course." She replied curtly. "I was a nun. It stands for goodness and virtue and…"

"No, Agatha, no…" The vampire exhaled, rolling his eyes. "I was hoping you'd see the broader picture of it. When you look at the cross, really look at it, what do you see?" He doesn't wait for her to reply. "War. Fear. This internal feeling in your gut that you must not slip up on your endless virtues or will fall into the ever grabbing hands of damnation. That, my dear Sister, is why the cross is frightening. Or, so the many, many, hundreds of men and women I haven consumed over the centuries think."

"But why does it hurt you?" The woman asked. "Why…"

"You already got your answer." Dracula cut her off with a smile. "Next round."

She lost. Almost immediately. And she didn't need to look up to know Dracula was grinning widely. It was her turn to be interrogated and since she didn't go easy on him, now he was going to use the same power against her.

"Why did you become a nun, Agatha?" The vampire asked. "Out of everything, why that profession? Surely there were some more interesting options...a librarian perhaps?"

"I did it with the intent of learning more about you." She attempted to appear focused on a nearby pinball game. "From the stories past down about my grandfather, I thought perhaps going through religious texts might serve some purpose."

"And did they?" The Count questioned. "Or have you received more than your fair share about me from the Jonathan Harker Foundation?"

"That's more than one." She challenged, eyeing the puck in the center of the table. "Next round."

Thus the game continued, Dracula and Agatha posturing one another for information. It wasn't until the vampire scored once more, the puck flying into its intended target, that things began to take a turn.

"Why won't you let me talk about Zoe?" The man inquired. "It's oddly endearing of how overprotective you are of her."

"I just don't think it's appropriate." Agatha responded tersely. "I'd prefer to keep my home and work life separate."

"And I fall into the work category…" Dracula nodded thoughtfully. "She is an interesting child. Something rather unexpected must have happened to her when she was really young."

It was clear that the vampire was trying to worm another question in by making it sound like a remark. The car crash flickered in the back of the woman's mind as she took a step back from the table.

"I have a question." Their eyes locked as Agatha began to speak. "What do you mean that if you could, you could easily know anything and everything you want about me in a matter of seconds?"

The Count folded his arms. "You didn't make a goal."

"And I'm done playing games." Agatha responded firmly. "What is it that you are hiding, Count Dracula? And how and why does it involve me?"

"I should ask you the same." The vampire answered. "I believe we are equally fascinated by one another. However, I too think I'm done with these games." He glanced towards the door and smiled. "I promised you one more location. It's getting late, for you at least. We should make it there while it counts."

"But I…"

"Poor Frank's probably wondering if we've abandoned him." Dracula exhaled, clicking his tongue. "A smart man, but rather meek. Mousy. Best not keep him on edge." Once more he produced the umbrella. "I suggest you use this now. Best not get Zoe's new toy wet."

As Dracula had predicted, Mr. Renfield seemed very relieved upon their return. He eyed the stuffed animal on Agatha's lap curiously before pulling away from the arcade. The former nun reclined back on her seat, thinking of the scraps of knowledge she'd gathered from Dracula and how she could possibly piece them together. It wasn't until the car pulled to a stop that she snapped back to reality.

"Last stop of the night." The Count grinned as he stepped out of the car. "Saving the best for last."

Agatha's eyes traveled upwards to the sign on top of the building. Raw Nightclub. Heat rose to her cheeks as she looked herself over. In a pair of jeans, old shirt, and hair wet from the rain, she was in no condition to go into any establishment of class, let alone a nightclub. The restaurant and arcade had been hard enough. But before she could protest, the vampire was already on his way inside. Biting back a groan, she hurried in after him. Fucking blood sucker.

The chaos in the arcade was child's play to what was happening in the club. Smoke, multicolored flashing lights, mixed with the smells of sweat and cheap perfume. The music, whatever was playing, vibrated the floorboards as a pale hand extended towards the former nun. Agatha looked to see Dracula offering her a toothy grin.

"Agatha Van Helsing." He bowed, completely out of place to the DJ's upbeat remixes. "May I have this dance?"

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Caught in a Riptide

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anxiouslymalicious · 5 years

Text

Finding Home

A Peter Parker x (female) Reader series. This follows the events of Spider-Man: Far From Home, except with a new character; Y/N Wood, an enhanced human.

Warnings: mentions of a death and other than that, just talks of the blip and stuff like that. Oh and SPIDER-MAN FAR FROM HOME SPOILER WARNING!

This is unedited and this might be kind of bad as this is my first time writing in third person and my first time writing for Marvel. If you guys like it, I’ll continue writing this series, if not, I might delete this first part and pretend that none of this ever happened.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Peter Parker was a nervous boy. Always fidgeting, always trying to explain himself if someone couldn’t really follow his train of thought, always scared of embarrassing himself. After all, he wasn’t too popular in school, but embarrassing himself in front of the people he saw every day wasn’t really something he wanted to, so he kept to his little friend group. Well, MJ and Ned, but they were all he needed.

After the blip and the whole battle with Thanos, Peter was almost excited to live a more normal life than he had over the past time. It was still strange to him that he had been gone for five years and some people around him had aged while others still looked the same, but the fact that everyone almost tried to push away the thoughts of what exactly had happened, gave him some kind of normalcy.

It was nice. Nice, being a silly schoolboy with a super-secret hobby and what he felt like was the biggest crush on a girl he spent a lot of time with.

Pain was a steady companion. An unwanted companion, yes, but it was always there. Not even physically, really, Peter was aware that it was something from mental origin, but it felt so bad that sometimes he wasn’t sure if it really wasn’t physical.

Especially as he put on his suit and mask and turned into the friendly neighbourhood-Spiderman, he couldn’t help but feel the pain of losing the only father figure he had ever known. He had lost a man who had given him so much, who cared for him so much, who he had grown so close to despite Stark’s efforts to keep him somewhat on distance. He felt the pain of having let down Mr. Stark, having let down his family and friends. He felt the physical pain from the battle he had fought.

And the pressure, how could Peter forget about the constant pressure from the media. The people who were now, understandably, scared of potential new threats and with three of the strongest Avengers gone, with the whole Avengers group going MIA except for Spidey, everyone kept bribing him with questions and the responsibility to keep everyone safe should another alien attack.

So, when the trip to Europe was announced, Peter couldn’t have been happier. Being in a place where Spider-Man was not present, a place where he didn’t have to care about being a hero, and instead could focus on a certain girl sounded heavenly and like the thing that he needed the most in that moment.

Especially once he had declined a call from Nick Fury himself, going to another continent was probably the only right thing to do if he wanted to stay alive. Not to mention whatever seemed to be going on between Aunt May and Happy. Peter felt uncomfortable just thinking about how close they might be.

“I have a plan.” Peter said excitedly to his best friend, Ned, as he sat down at the table next to him. Ned looked at him, wordlessly telling his friend to keep going. “Okay, first, I sit next to MJ on the flight.” Peter continued to which Ned hummed in reply. Peter’s voice caught the attention of another person in the room. Y/N, who was one of the people who hadn’t been blipped away and, thus, now shared classes with Peter and Ned, watched as the boys in front of her brabbled on.

Well, Peter was passionately and not exactly quietly talking about his plan to ask MJ out, Ned was only giving him unimpressed one-word replies. To Y/N, he really didn’t sound happy about the plan Peter had probably spend hours developing. The young girl imagined how Peter had been lying in his bed for hours and hours on end every night, trying to think of a way to ask out this one special girl, but overthrowing his plans over and over again because they were not good enough and she probably wouldn’t like them.

Y/N felt her cheeks up in embarrassment and hoped that no one was an enhanced human, like her. Her mother was, according to her father, enhanced, but she had never gotten to meet her as she died during childbirth. The young girl knew how to control her powers, but she barely used them. Not unless her father told her that she could. She didn’t trust herself enough to decide when the situation became too serious not to use them and when she should avoid using them, so she relied on the people who trained her.

“Oh, don’t forget step seven!” Ned replied with enough enthusiasm to pull Y/N out of her Peter-related daydreams.

“Step seven…?” Peter was confused at Ned’s sudden outburst and made a little note, eager for help to improve his plan.

“Don’t do any of that.” Ned told Peter dryly which surprised Y/N. She couldn’t hold back the little snort and giggle and she was sure that, even though she had slapped her hands in front of her mouth, desperate to muffle the noise, Peter and Ned had heard her. She could feel even more blood rushing to her face and tried to shuffle in her seat, hoping the ground would swallow her. Technically, it could, but she knew that she couldn’t use her powers in broad daylight in the middle of her school. So, she didn’t and just kept hoping.

Once Ned had explained to Peter why they should both be bachelors in Europe and how his plan was stupid, MJ came by. Y/N hadn’t seen her coming, but she had heard how Peter’s voice got higher, whether it was fear or excitement, though, she couldn’t determine. Peter sat with his back to her, but even if he hadn’t, the young girl still felt too mortified to raise her head from where it was resting on her desk.

But once Peter and Ned started talking to MJ, Y/N felt less mortified. Because Peter and Ned just made complete fools out of themselves as they were talking to MJ. Or more stuttering and trying to come up with excuses. Once MJ had told the boys about the VPN, she left them and walked over to Y/N.

MJ at least assumed that it was her, she recognised her hair colour and her silly behaviour when she felt embarrassed.

“What’s up dork?” she asked as she plopped down in a chair next to her. Y/N grunted in reply. MJ took out some paper and a pencil. “Stay like that, it’s the perfect misery to capture. Maybe once I’m done, you’ll be done doing… that.” She told the teenager before she started scribbling.

A smile tugged on the corners of the embarrassed girl’s lips, and before she could fight it, she was giggling, to which MJ told her: “Stop. I’m not done capturing your misery! You can’t smile now!”. She was having a hard time fighting her own smile, though, and so they soon found themselves laughing, the thought of potential embarrassment was the last thing on their minds.

Once the girls had calmed down enough to realise that they were in public and no one had seen either of them so carefree, they stopped laughing, only giving each other knowing smirks.

The sudden laughter made Peter and Ned turn in their seats only to find the edgy duo laughing loudly. Y/N and MJ had been close friends ever since MJ had been blipped away and Y/N had grown up to be the same age as MJ.

Now fortunately for her, Y/N belonged to the half of the universe that wasn’t blipped away, the harsh and barely populated world around her giving her the will and opportunity to train her powers in a way that she couldn’t before. But it had also caused the enhanced human a lot of pain, being without most of her friends and the people she considered family, she felt alone. Abandoned, even in the first few weeks of the blip. It had also filled her with rage and a wish to fight those so-called-superheroes that have ruined so many people’s lives.

She stopped feeling comfortable in things that were too colourful and her hair often looked messy from her hands running through it ever so often. Those looks attracted MJ a lot once she had been blipped back and so, she took the girl under her wings. And throughout the past eight months, the two of them had grown rather close.

Y/N’s pocket began to vibrate, her phone demanding attention. She averted her focus and noticed that her father was texting her. Something about a new mission that he would tell her about once she had gotten home. It was his way of indirectly telling her to come home immediately after school. Being the nice kid she is, Y/N made her way home immediately after school ended, only yelling a short “see you tomorrow” towards MJ when she passed her friend in the hallway.

It didn’t take her long to get home, and once she arrived at the apartment building in which she lived with her father, the girl felt tingles in her fingers and a warm feeling in her belly. The last mission, as they called it, had been fun. It had felt amazing to let out all the pent-up energy that she never got to let out in her day-to-day-life and support her father.

“Dad, I’m home!” Y/N yelled once she arrived and went straight to the kitchen to grab a snack.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was school?” the brunette man asked as he found his daughter in the kitchen, as he always did when she came home from school.

“Good.” She replied and looked at her dad with a huge grin adorning her face. He knew that she was too excited for the next mission to tell him more about school and other casualties. But he wanted to hear it from her, so he played her little game.

“Have you gotten any homework? Maybe you can do that later here in the kitchen when I’m cooking so I can help you. If I’m right, you had physics today and I know that’s not your thing- “

“DAD! Stop, please.” His daughter interrupted the word-vomit which he was purposefully using to avoid the one thing she was eager to hear about. He chuckled at her antics as she jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter, taking berries out of the container she had found earlier in the fridge.

“Well, I told you that we would have to expand the targets soon. And, as you are going on that science trip with your school, I thought about where to take the next mission. And I talked to the team.” The man started, scratching his beard as he acted as though the whole thinking process had been tough for him. And only after his daughter urged him to go on, he actually did.

“And?”

“And we came to the conclusion that Italy would be a great next target. Venice, to be exact.” He continued, making his daughter gasp in excitement. The girl promptly jumped off the counter again to hug her father, knowing that the next mission wasn’t too much of a wait and that she would be able to do her job and let some steam off while she was in Europe. It was unsuspicious enough, easy to do and, as she assumed, finally something new.

After the earth elemental and air elemental, she would finally be able to make a splash with the water elemental, something she had been looking forward ever since she started training her powers.

“Beck, we need you in the dungeon for the simulations.” Said one of the team members, his voice muffled through the door as he knocked.

“Guess we’ll have to order takeout. The mission is more important than cooking.” The girl said with a grin as she sprinted to her room to change into something more comfortable for training.

“I raised her right.” Quentin Beck said to himself with a smirk on his lips as he watched her go. “Thank god she doesn’t know the truth. Silly little girl.”

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writerinthedark · 4 years

Text

Everything but Right (Chapter One)

A/N: Nanowrimo year 2 in the bag! I hope you like it.

Word Count: 4,717

Summary: When Evaline starts her senior year she doesn't expect it to take a turn. There is a new teacher in her small town.

Warning: abuse, violence

Couple: teacher x student, eventually.

Chapter 1

Senior Buzz

The shouting of my parents rung me from my short lived sleep. I was far from surprised by the rude awakening. I quickly sat up tearing the blanket exposing my legs. The cold air causing goosebumps to appear on my skin. If I had any choice the last thing I would be doing is waking up. My school starts at 9:30. We were one of the few schools in the district to have highschool run at such a late bell schedule. I’m not complaining though any extra sleep is greatly appreciated. I slowly creep across my rooming reaching for the clothes I had laid out for the day. Today was the first day of my senior year, and my mother made sure I had my outfit picked to her standards. If even one thread was out of line her wrath would come upon me. Nothing was more important than the image I reflected of her. Clothes must be modest, clean, and mature. No room for comfort or utility. Turning on the light to my bathroom I gently place the stack of clothes on the vanity, and began my routine for getting ready. As I finish putting my outfit I looked at myself in the full length mirror that sat on the back of my bathroom door. I picked apart my form, I was an almost unhealthy thin, my rib cage just visible if your were to see my stomach. My face held the same hollow shape, my brown hair looking aged. My hazel eyes missing a lively spark. My legs held no muscle and very little fat on them. My short frame almost drowned in the overly modest outfit I was forced to wear. Consisting of a steamed flowy blouse that was tucked into a pair of dark skinny jeans, and a chunky tan cardigan to go over the outfit. The cardigan was to big leaving me to look dwarfed in the baggy material. A knock on my bathroom door snapped me from my daze. Checking my phone I saw I was running behind. I decided against taking the time to do my makeup. I couldn't hurt to go a day without it. I stepped out of my bathroom greeted with the face of my mother. Her brown hair pulled into a tight military style bun. A look of disapproval smeared across her face.

“You don’t even have makeup on, I told you how important it is that you are presentable. It is not just you who is affected by the way you dress.” she scolds me.

I want to roll my eyes at the statement. Of course she brings up the, it’s not just you who is affected. I have to stand and listen to the continuing scrutinizing of my appearance.

“You don’t even have time to fix it. I asked you to do one thing.” she sighs. “Just go downstairs I don’t even want to look at you right now. Be glad you dad left for work early this morning. He would have not tolerated this.” she waves her hand signaling me to leave.

I quickly rush out of the room and down the stairs. Thanking the fact my father was not here to yell at me. He may not be the one to make most of the rules, but he is definitely an enforcer. Grabbing a banana from the table I take my backpack making my way to the front door. Deciding I can just eat on the way to the bus stop rather than skipping breakfast all together. Closing the door behind me I take a deep breath. Today is going to be a good day I think to myself. I won’t let my mother get to me. I look fine, it was just a little bit of makeup it can’t do that much. Can it? I take my time walking to the stop. I was in no hurry, having left the house with enough time to not rush. Thought swirling in my brain. I was trying not to let the negative thoughts flood my brain. I wanted this year to be a good year. No like the past endless years of school. Determination to make friends before leaving the hell hole called highschool. Just one friend would send me over the moon. If I am lucky than a new student may enroll in the school and I can be friends with them before they get an opinion of me. What am I kidding no one even if they were new would talk to me. I am awkward and antisocial. I can barely talk to teachers without turning into an anxious mess. My hands begin to sweat and it gets harder and harder to speak till I end up just nodding. The thoughts keep spiraling till the sound of screeching reach my ears. I turn my head to see I had made it to my bus stop without realizing it and the bus had arrived. I grab the handrailing climbing into the bus. I give a small smile to the bus driver before glancing to find an empty seat. The bus was nearly packed I was the last bus on a busy route. Everyone had already found a friend to sit with leaving few options for me to pick. There was on empty space in the back by the cool kids. That was an obvious no for clear reasons. There was another space open by a group of kids who look friendly. I ended up taking the only seat that was completely empty. It was position right behind the bus driver where no one chooses to sit. Sitting down I turn my head to look out the window. I watch as the background blurs as the bus picks up speed as we begin to accelerate. Our school was position closest to the most populated area in our town making the drive short. Pulling into the bus loop I watched the filled parking lot of teens laughing and making noise. I lurch forward as the bus came to a stop. The doors hissed open to release us. I was the first out quick to get the day over with. The normally chaotic atmosphere seemed to be thriving with a new energy. Yes, it was always chaotic, but this time it seemed almost crazed. Something had to have happened. I was just not in the loop on what exactly that was. I was never in the loop so any drama I would not usually find out about unless someone talked a little to loud while in class. Some may call what I do eavesdropping, but it’s not my fault if you happen to talk to loud. Plus it is not like I have anyone to share anything I hear with. I am just a person who fades into the background.

This year I had only a couple classes due to finishing most of my credit requirements by junior year. The extra time I had I would spend drifting around the school and helping where needed. Ever since the beginning of highschool I waited for the day when I could get early release. The only problem wasn’t that it would not fit in my schedule, it was the fact that my parents refused to sign the contract. They rather me be at school then at home. In their mind I would wreak havoc. Why they thought that was beyond me. I have never once received a detention and did not plan on changing. Since the start of high school my grades remained at an A average putting me close to the top of my class. I was nowhere near valedictorian, but it put my mind at ease knowing I was not at the bottom. I made my way through the front door of the school expecting the hallways to be decently clear due to the cluster of students outside. Sadly, that was not the case. The hallways seem claustrophobic as people crammed into the small locker area. Unlike most highschools they keep are lockers in a closed area rather than spread throughout the school. To my disadvantage my locker was in the back corner of the three rows of lockers. To get from point a at the entrance of the locker area, to point b, my locker. It was a path filled with pushing and shoving. Being a girl of short stature enable me to be pushed are like a ping pong ball. Even if I choose to relate by a small shove It would feel like a little poke to the person receiving it. By the time I made it to my locker I was disappointed to find a girl leaning on it. That girl being Lexi the cool girl of the school. She was far from what she used to be. When we were young she used to be great friends of the family. We would always be together stuck like glue. That was until we hit middle school. I guess you could say the combination of peer pressure and puberty had its way. In the blink of an eye we went to being thick as thieves to not even glancing at each other in the hallway. Now here I was patiently waiting for her to move from her spot. I gave a quick cough trying to politely give her the idea. Without a glance I gave a loud sort of cough. This grabbed her attention causing her to turn. Rather than her moving, her face morphed into one of disgust.

“Excuse me, can’t you see we were kinda in the middle of talking. I know your not used to that sort of thing but I thought you would at least be smart enough to know not to interrupt. Apparently you are dumber than I thought.” she huffed rolling her eyes.

Well there goes my chance of getting to my locker. I wanted so badly to stand up to her cruel words but I found my mouth going dry at the thought. I instead decided to hang around the corner and wait until the left. I watched the clock tick closer to the bell. Little time remains for me to grab my stuff and make it to class. I turn the corner taking a peek at my locker to see them still leaning. Time was running thin and I had little options for getting out of this situation. Either grow a pair and stand up to her, or the more likely one of the two just wait till she leaves. The ringing of the bell sounded through the hallway causing a sigh to escape me. It was the first day and I was late to class. I saw them walking away with not a care in the world. Lexi looked over her shoulder throwing me a wink. She knew what she did and she was pleased with herself. I slowly made my way towards my no vacancy locker. There was no point in rushing when the bell had long past rung. I dropped off the unneeded things picking up the book required for the class. I studied my schedule finding the room number and teacher of my first block class of the day. Shoving the small slip of paper in my pocket I made my way towards the correct room. I had no clue how I would get out of the mess I made. With just my luck I arrived at a closed door. Meaning I had no choice but to interrupt the class to get in. I thought about the possibility of just skipping, but knew I would get into more trouble than it was worth. With one last breath I raised my fist giving a soft knock on the hard wooden door. With my head down I hear the click of the door open prompting me to raise my head. The man greeting me seem to be in his early twenties. His hair was a dusty brown grown to a clipped length. If it wasn’t for the formal attire I would have assumed he was a student. I must have been quite for a period of time because he gave a quick cough.

“How may I help you Miss?”

My words were failing me once again. I couldn’t form a sentence. I instead took the small now crumpled up paper from my pocket handing it to him. He took it with a confused look crossing his face. It took him a few seconds to catch on to what I was trying to infer. Realization passed across his face as he handed me the paper back.

“You must be the student I marked absent this morning. I do not take well to unexcused tardies Miss. Welton. Don’t make it a habit.” His tone was stern.

I shook my head signaling my understanding. He stepped aside allowing me into the room. I glanced around catching eyes with lexi yet again. Of course she had to be in the same class as me. She looked to her friend muttering something causing the other girl to laugh. The only seat left was on in the front of the class. I had no choice but to sit. I hated sitting in the front, It did nothing to ease my nerves. It was like being front and center. The teacher could always see you and everything you do was watched. I looked to the board to see Mr. Morgan in messy slant font.

“As I was saying before the interruption.”

It felt like all eyes were on me as he said this. I looked up to make direct eye contact with him. He seemed displeased with my presence.

“This year is outlined in front of you on the syllabus provided. As you can see your first assignment is due next class.”

A chorus of groans sounded throughout the room. No one wanted homework on the first day of school.

“This assignment will consist of giving a short speaking presentation at the beginning of the next class on your interpretations of the first chapter of the reading assignment. It will be worth 20 points and be the first grade put into the books.”

At the announcement of this my hands immediately began to sweat. I was never good at talking to anyone let alone present. I always was able to receive and alternate assignment when it came to these things. Teachers seem to take notice of how hard it would be for me to talk. I had a feeling though this teacher would not be so forgiving when it came to these things.

He came around handing out the rubric for the assignment. The thought of making friends completely falling from my head. As he made his way toward my area I took the assignment with a shaking hand. I didn't even glance up to look at him in the face. I was scared for what the year would bring. As he made his way towards his desk I took a second to take him in. He was very attractive that was obvious. I could see the other girls in my class practically drooling over him. I was to focused on the intimidating aura he gave off to join the gazing. The bell rung shaking me from my spiraling thoughts. I went to stand grabbing my bag from the side of my desk. Everyone was rushing through the door. Not wanting to deal with the pushing crowds I hung back. The room was almost cleared by the time I started moving. My next class was free so I was in no rush. By the time I finally started moving the warning bell rang through the loudspeakers. The sudden voice startled me. I turned facing the noise.

“Your cutting it close Miss. Welton. If your going to make it to class you might want to hurry.”

I was too shocked to respond. Instead of doing the reasonable thing and simply saying I didn’t have a class, I stood frozen. The bell rung over head causing me to quickly turn and briskly walk out of the room. I could faintly hear the rempremanding shout behind me.

“Your late to class Miss. Welton.”

The rest of my day was spent wandering around the school. Occasionally I would peak into a few classroom asking if the teacher needed assistance. But due to it being the first day of school a few things were needed. This left me to find a way to fill my time.

I just finished asking one of the many english teachers if they needed anything when and idea came to mind. I doubt any teacher would notice if I sat outside in the courtyard. Technically we were not allowed outside without a teacher present, but every teacher was in session. It's not like I would be leaving the school property. I would just be sitting outside. Normally I wouldn’t even consider bending the rules but having nothing to do lead me to boredom. I began walking toward the door checking both halls before pushing open the large metal door. It gave a squeal of resistance as I departed from the building. The trees had just started to brown at the edges in the changing seasons. Benches were spread throughout the small yard, some newer than others. Set at the far end of the courtyard sprouted a large oak tree. It was the only tree in the small space, its branches reaching above the school. Directly under its shadow sat a small bench. Its splintering surface and graying wood telling of its say. It most likely like the tree above it placed here at the opening of the school.

Shrugging my bag off my shoulder, I use the momentum and my shoe to nudge the bag under the bench. I pulled my headphones from my pocket, putting them in as I took a seat. My playlist beginning to play as soon as its plugged in. The thumping of AC/DC all night long ringing through my ears. Most of the time my music was random in the sense I loved all genres. My mind began to go blank and relax as the song switched to a slower tune. I found myself finally taking a deep breath. I had no homework, no projects which was surprising due to the level of classes I was taking. I shut my leaning against the rough bark of the tree. Its rough surface slightly scratching my scalp. If I had a choice I would stay here and take a nap. My head felt heavy with sleep tempting me to be pulled under. The violent shaking of my arm caused my eyes to fly open in panic. I could see Mr. Morgan saying something to me. His face was stern. I sit their unmoving my music still thumping loudly in my ears. With sudden realization, I yanked my headphones out of my ears. The sounds around me seeming quiet compared to the steady beat in my ears. He was standing there waiting for a response to something I never heard.

“Are you going to explain yourself Miss. Welton?” his eyebrows drawn in.

I opened my mouth to speak and shut it again when I couldn’t bring myself to speak. He took that as a sign of guilt.

“Please stand up we are heading to the front office,” he spoke bringing me to my feet.

My heart began rapidly pumping. The front office? I had never done anything wrong to find myself in there. I was always the good student. What was I going to do if I got in trouble? What was I going to if my parents found out? I was screwed. They already hate me as it is. I am the disappointment of a child they had. I would never like my perfect sister in their eyes.

With his face turned away I could see his set jaw. His demeanor was one of a soldier or commander. He didn’t tolerate anything less than perfect. I probably look of his worst nightmare as a student. I was anything but perfect. I couldn’t speak, I was bad at eye contact. With one look in someones eyes I practically wet myself. This year was going to be one of my hardest when it came to having him as a teacher. I longed to be able to hide in the background. The one skill I thought I was good at slipped from my fingers as soon as Mr. Morgan became my teacher.

The walk to the front office was quick. Our small school making everything close together. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone started laughing at me for getting dragged to the office. The quiet girl is a secret bad girl. I could already hear the whispers behind my back. The front desk lady looked up as we crossed through the door. Her eyes turning glazy at the sight of Mr. Morgan. I could see her slightly push her chest out making sure to look extra seductive.

“What can I do for you Mr.Morgan?” she batted her long eyelashes at him.

He completely disregarded her seductive nature as he looked down at her. “I am here to bring Miss. Welton to talk with the principle.”

Her demeanor changed as she was faced with his set look.

“I’ll send him a quick message and he will come get you,” she turned towards the computer typing.

Mr. Morgan directs me to the small group of chairs located next to the front desk. Sitting down I look directly at my feet waiting for the principal to come retrieve us. I take a second to look over at Mr.Morgan. Sat in the chair is posture is rigid and he looks to big for the small padded seat. If it wasn’t for the fact he brought me in I would think he was the one going to get a talking to by his superior. What was probably only a few minutes felt like hours. The door finally opened revealing my principle. He wore a smile on his face as he came to greet us.

“What can I do for you today?” he asked with a polite smile.

It was clear he was unaware of the intention of this meeting.

Mr.Morgan quickly spoke up, “I brought Miss. Welton in for being found outside out of class.”

“Oh, please follow me into my office.” He directed the two of us into his small office.

It was only big enough to fit a desk and two small chairs placed in front of it. I end up sitting in the seat closest to the window while Mr.Morgan sits in the other one. Mr.Rucker, our principal slowly makes his way behind his desk. He looks almost confused at the scene in from of him. I didn’t think he knew me but I have no other clue what that look could indicate, besides how did she end up here? Again I place my gaze toward the ground waiting. It all I seem to know how to do. Wait, wait for the problem to start.

“So you found Miss. Welton outside without a teacher during class, am I correct?”

“Yes Sir, I was going to go print a lesson when I saw her,” His voice was so formal when responding.

“Well, let's pull up your schedule to see what class you are missing shall we.”

I can hear the clicking of his keyboard as he searches for my name. I give no response only keeping my gaze aimed at the ground. I can’t believe the first day of school I had already broken my streak of never getting in trouble. I can’t help but think if it wasn’t for Mr.Morgan that streak would have stayed strong. That is foolish thinking though, any teacher could have found me perched on the bench. I wasn’t exactly hiding, more like trying to blend in plain sight. I hear a faint sound of confusion from Mr.Ricker.

“Huh, can that be right?”

My guess is he is seeing all the open spaces I have in my schedule. Not many people have one class free, let alone 5. You would think as the principle he would know that I was most likely on a free block, but on the other hand he has a whole school to look after.

“It seems Miss. Welton was in a free period, “he states. “She had been in free period since after first block. You have quite the free time.”

I take this time to finally look up. Mr. Ricker sits looking at my schedule with a look of surprise. I turn to see Mr.Morgan's face still set.

“That may solve one problem but she was still found outside without an adult.” Mr.Morgan reminds.

“Well, it was in the courtyard so not completely outside of school. I could give punishment, but it's only the first day. How bout we give her a free pass.” Mr. Ricker bargains.

“She should not get away with breaking the rules so easily,” Mr.Morgan argues.

They talk as if I am not there, which to be fair I wasn’t adding anything to the conversation so I might as well not have been there.

“She has never gotten in trouble before, so I don’t see why punishment is necessary. If you insist however, she shall receive detention with you.” He looks at Mr.Morgan.

“Very Well,” his response is short.

They both turned to me as I sit in silence. Neither expecting me to speak is was just more out of ignologing my presence. I give a slight nod signalling I understand.

“Well you both are free to go,” Mr. Ricker signals.

I quickly stand up ducking my head out the door to leave. I can faintly hear what seems to be an argument between the two.

“You can’t come to me every time a student gets in trouble. You have the authority now, there is no need to ask permission.”

Part of me wanted to know more but I had to shake my thoughts. It was none of my business. They say curiosity kills the cat, it must be true if it was done enough to be a saying. By the time I checked my watch I saw it was almost time for school to end. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed. I don’t know if it was because I was outside for so long or if it had taken longer than I thought to wait in the office. It was still reeling in my head, I had gotten into trouble. It seems by the way Mr.Morgan was acting I would not be getting off with a warning.

I watched the clock waiting for the finale bell to ring. I still didn’t know why it excites me so much to go home. Its not like I had anything I had to do. I would go home, cook, clean, and get yelled at for how I did a “bad” job on everything. Then I would go upstairs and sit and read till I eventually went to sleep. I did this everyday for as long as I could remember.

The bell rung leading me to start my walk to the buses. The halls filled with kids just as eager as I to get home. Right as I was about to exit my arm was firmly gripped. For the second time in a day I had been seized. I turned coming face to face with Mr.Morgan.

“You have detention Miss.Welton,” I stared up at him as he said this.

“Bus?” was all that made it passed my lips in almost a whisper.

Recognition seem to slide across his face. It looked as if he hadn’t realized I might require the bus to bring me home.

“We will talk about this next class,” with that he briskly walked away.

Checking the time I realized at this point I would have to jog to make it to the bus in time. Opening the door I took off in a sprint, managing to catch the bus right before it left.

#teacher #student #abuse #school #shy girl #senior #high school #teacher x student

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caprichans · 5 years

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incandescent smiles

relationship: seo changbin + lee felix

setting: convenience store, university/college au

synopsis: wherein changbin has this habit of smiling at everyone, and felix happens to be a boy with smiles that could light up a thousand suns.

words: 2402

a short note: i recommend listening to star blossom - doyoung and sejeong! it matches the short story, and it’ll be cute if you read it while listening to this song, promise!

The thing about Seo Changbin was that he always smiles, as in always smiles at the strangers he first sees.

It's not like he's obliged to or anything, it's just become a rather appreciative habit of him to smile at people whenever they look at each other. Whether it'd be in the school hallways, the vending shops, or even during dinners with his family, Changbin always smiled when people looked at him. It's puzzling, really, when a man who pulls off a resting face can still manage to smile at people, and maybe even make their day. It made him conscious to the point where he vowed to never smile again for the rest of his life. He was a boy of thirteen at that time, young, and still full of fresh ideas. He remembered the time where he attempted to give his mom a foul look, one that screamed, "I don't smile anymore!" Yet, everything backfired when his mom teased him for acting like such a tough boy. Ever since then, Changbin has given up on trying to let go of his smiling habit. It's annoying sometimes, but he gets used to it by the day he grows older. It happened again during a trip to the convenience store. Changbin had just gotten off of college, denim jacket pulled to the black shirt that stuck to his skin, rimmed glasses perched on his bridge, and earphones stuck to his earbuds as he tried to search for inspiration to craft his final song. It was a part of his thesis, you see, to submit a solid, three-minute song, verses and all. Changbin's been told that he excelled well in this sort of field, and he had to admit, he was comfortable in this sort of project, so everything was a piece of cake for him. He had Chan and Jisung teaming up with him, anyway. They'd submit a perfect piece in no time. As he worked his way through the entrance, he sauntered through the aisles in search for some ramyun, and perhaps a few hotdogs for the bunch. He took into consideration the tendencies Chan has to overwork himself during the leeway hours of their submission, and he knew Jisung would kill for some shitty convenience store coffee. (Which, by the way, tasted pretty good for Changbin. What's not to like about French Vanilla coffee?) He did his deed nevertheless, and hummed over a few tunes before settling over to the hotdog stand to grab a hold of some steamy buns and some nice, steamed sausages. Then, just then, as he picked his first steamy bun, he saw him. It was very brief at first; the boy entered the convenience store in a set of headphones, eyes half-lidded and almost exhausted, and sweat that stuck from the sides of his neck and some strands of his golden blonde hair. He sauntered past a distracted Changbin at first, as he looked for some hopes of a steamed pork bun or some coffee. Luck was on his side, and clasped his hands in a small delight once he had found his desires. That's how Changbin found him now, perched up against the coffee machine as he squinted to read the hangul, almost mouthing the characters as if he were a kid in kindergarten. It made Changbin wonder at first, until he came to the conclusion that the boy was practically foreign. He could tell by how lost he seemed by the coffee machine, not knowing which buttons to press, and by how he cursed to himself in something that sounded like English. Changbin wouldn't know. He scored poorly on his English grades. He had Aussie Boy Chan to thank him for his English stock knowledge. Changbin hadn't realized that he was staring a little too long at the boy of wonders, that his stare seemed to pick up on the boy. As if time had suddenly stood still, the two made eye contact, connecting doe-like shiny eyes with low, slumped ones. Oh shit, Changbin panicked momentarily, you know what's coming. You definitely know what's coming and I suggest you look away now— He perked a smile at the boy. As expected of Seo Changbin, expert smiley guy at random strangers. God, he needs to control his habits sometimes. Unexpected of him, he sought the boy to be smiling back at him as well, showcasing an adorable set of freckles to dust his cheeks and his eyes to crinkle in crescents for a split second before meeting shy eyes with the coffee machine once more. The response left Changbin dumbfounded as he stood by the hotdog machine, holding a fresh, steamy hotdog on his hands. Huh, did not...expect that. Changbin's ears grew red. Never thought that the cute guy with freckles smiled at strangers too. He could feel his neck grow hot as well by just the replay of his smile on his head. Oh, Jeremy. Changbin's buffering. "Uh, hey." He spoke for the first time since he left his apartment, voice a little hoarse from much disuse as he peeked at the boy at the coffee machine. "Do you need help, um, over there?" You're doing great, Seo! Definitely not awkward. The boy shot his head up at his call, then blinked once, twice, before nodding in what almost seemed like desperation. "Yes, please. I'm sort of lost." Changbin noted the accent that filled his Korean, and needless to say, Changbin digs those accents, but you didn't hear that from him. He went over to his side instead, and began explaining what each flavor was, what each button meant, where each cup was placed. The boy tried to follow in an equal pace, and Changbin could almost hear calculating sounds running through the edge of the boy's mind as he went through the process slowly. "You can just place your cup here, and let the coffee machine do its magic. If I suggest, you should pick French Vanilla." He gestured to the button at the middle. "It's the only coffee that's less shitty in this convenience store, if you ask me."

The boy made a small ‘o’ with his mouth, and beamed at Changbin with gratitude within the look of his eyes. “Thank you! God, I thought I’d never get it. Pretty stupid, if you think about it, considering that this is just a coffee machine and I’m surrounded by a population of foreigners. I just had to do better.” He groaned, rolling his eyes upward and squeezing them shut for a while, probably to get the stress and strain off his eyes. Now that he mentioned it, Changbin noticed that he looked rather exhausted earlier. His bags weren’t hard to miss, and he noticed that it was past 8PM to be coming from the university. The boy probably had extra hours on something, though Changbin isn’t the one to prod on one’s personal affairs.

He nodded instead, giving one last small smile before patting his back pockets for nothing in particular. “No problem. I’ll just be on my way, then.” He tilted his head toward the hotdog stand, and awkwardly made his way to it once more, trying to ignore the way the boy’s eyes were still trained on Changbin. It took about three seconds for Changbin’s racing heart to subside, and by that time, the boy’s eyes were no longer fixed on him, but at the coffee machine that he now understood how to use it. He doesn’t know why his heart sudden escalated, but he hoped that it’s because of his small social anxiety rather than the fact that the boy was absolutely adorable with the way he talked, the way he smiled, the way he did everything in a span of ten minutes to make Changbin feel this way. He recalled a time within the night where the three of them were at their peak of insanity, and Jisung suddenly started talking about some alternate universe where people would puke flowers after developing a crush on that certain person. Changbin thought that was utter bullshit, but Chan was just as immersed as Jisung was.

“Thank God I’m not coughing out seeds, if such a disease were even real.” Changbin scoffed to himself, before shutting the hotdog stand and making his way toward the counter to pay for his food. His thoughts on the boy were grazed in the center of his mind as he purchased, all senses hovering to the small encounter that happened not too long ago. He couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about him, but how could he when his smile could literally light up a thousand suns from thousands of galaxies. Changbin knew he had to stop thinking about some stranger, but why wasn’t he stopping?

As if fate had decided to play a little more, he suddenly felt a thud and a splash of something, followed by a frustrated groan behind him. Changbin whipped his head towards his back, and found—oh, how lovely—the boy of his thoughts in a middle of his own crisis as the coffee dropped from his hands and into the floors. Flushed from embarrassment, the boy immediately apologized to the counter for making such a mess, and hurriedly scrambled to wipe his own mess with his clothes. Changbin saw the counter rush over to tell him that they’ll handle it, and speak some words of reassurance before they went over to handle Changbin’s items before going over to the spillage. He grabbed for the plastic bag, and almost decided to just let the boy handle his own mess and leave the store, only he didn’t. He stopped short in the entrance, and took one glance at the boy, who was currently slapping the back of his neck in hopes to help him wake up more. He furrowed his eyebrows, and hummed. The boy was close to tired, and clearly that coffee incident was a wake-up call for him. Maybe he should do something. Yeah, that’s right, maybe pay for his coffee, or even treat him to some coffee if his budget allows it.

“Hey,” Changbin went to the boy once again, and tapped him on the shoulder to grab his attention, “maybe I should treat you to coffee? You seemed out of it today, so I wanted to do something to gain myself good boy points. Well, how about it?”

The boy blinked once, twice, until he scoffed one of his adorable grins that was enough to send Changbin orbiting to outer space. “You’re an odd one. You trust strangers easily, or are you just that friendly?” He went over to the coffee machine once more, Changbin following closely with a roll of his eyes. “It’s not like you’re out to assassinate me, or rob the cash in this store. You’re too—“ He paused there, and froze at what he was just about to say that could most likely embarrass himself in front of the boy. The latter, on the other hand, raised a brow in amusement as he inched closer. “I’m too…what?”

Changbin sighed, slumping his shoulders and glancing elsewhere before looking back at the boy. “You’re too…” He made his voice tiny, almost inaudible for people other than the boy to hear, “nice for that. At least you seem nice, unless you do have a gun and you are here to assassinate me. Fuck, I’m doomed.”

The boy lit up at his response, eyes crinkling into those lovely crescent ones and his grin showcasing his teeth along with his laughter. It was near blinding, and good enough to set Changbin’s heart pumping once more as his stomach twisted at the sight. He knew that he wasn’t the one with such humor, but to know that a man could laugh at his remark, it was enough to make Changbin feel good about himself. He smiled automatically in response, albeit a little more bashful than his normal ones. The boy, on the other hand, gleamed at him. “You’re so funny! You’re literally making my day as we speak right now.” He gave him a paper cup from where Changbin had told him so earlier, and nodded. “Here, let me give you your good boy points. You deserve it for making me laugh today.” Changbin doesn’t miss the way his grin still stood in place, and neither did he miss the way his stomach twisted more and his heart thumped louder.

Perhaps he’s never been this gay before. Perhaps he should tell Chan and Jisung that he’ll be coming home a little later than usual.

“I’m Felix, by the way.” The boy outstretched his hand, his smile still on place, yet brighter for some reason. Felix, Changbin pondered, wondering if he should say it the way he said it, or how his peers would usually say it. Nevertheless, it was a decent name, and that was enough for Changbin. He took his outstretched hand, and gave an equal expression to the boy, now called Felix. “Changbin. It’s nice to meet you, I guess?”

Changbin wondered if Felix ever got tired of smiling, because from what it seems like that fifth or sixth time today—Changbin never took count—Felix smiled at him once more, followed by a fit of fond giggles that sounded on his throat. “You guess, huh? Well, it’s your turn to make the coffee, Mr. I-Guess Changbin.”

The man in statement scoffed a laugh, rolling his eyes at such a nickname given before proceeding to press the familiar buttons he had once taught Felix. It’s pretty amusing, he thought, that back in the day, his thirteen-year old dramatic self would frown all day long, believing that nothing good would ever come out of smiling. He’s twenty-years old now, already given up on that belief, and now exchanged with a new one that something good did come out of his smiling habits. The thought in itself was enough to make Changbin smile yet again, as he walked with the boy who had freckles for cheeks and smiles for a thousand suns. The boy, who apparently didn’t know how to work the coffee machine because he couldn’t read all the complicated hangul well yet. The boy, named Lee Felix, who made Changbin’s day by just smiling; Changbin sure wouldn’t have it any other way with his smiles either.

What can he say? Old habits die hard.

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #changlix #seo changbin #lee felix #with mentions of:#bang chan #han jisung #muki writes #also posted at my ao3 so go check it out !#djdhdfhjad i had a soft time writing this so i hope u all feel soft [insert blowing a tissue emoji]

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papersandkeyboards · 5 years

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5/23-30: A Week of Hangouts

35th WEEK, MAY 23-30, 2016.

Seniors at Rainier Beach High School skip so much in general, I thought there would be no Senior Skip Day like in other schools.

Speaking of which—Senior Skip Day, I guess you could say, is some sort of unofficial agreement between seniors to skip the whole school day on an agreed day. And yes—it is indeed a thing, apparently.

But as I said, seniors—if not students in general—at RBHS skip so much, it doesn’t seem like Senior Skip Day would be a thing to be excited about. In my fourth period—which is IB Lang and Lit for seniors—there are suppose to be, like, 24 kids or something, but there are only 10ish students in average every day. One day the number hit 14, Mrs. Shaw got so excited she could’ve cried.

Tuesday, another sparsely populated fourth period. We were in the middle of something when a couple of seniors got into the classroom and handed out papers to us that turned out to be a permission slip to go to Seward Park on Friday.

“...what’s this?” I asked Imi.

“Oh, it’s Senior Skip Day,” she said.

Well—turned out we did have a Senior Skip/Ditch Day. Unless that it was school-approved, chaperoned-by-teacher Skip Day... quote on quote.

Call me a nerd, but I didn’t want to skip first period on Friday. If it were a normal first period I would probably be delighted to skip, but since mid-end May until mid-June, there’s this big event called Seattle International Film Festival, which is one of the most famous film festivals in the world. A whole bunch of films from some one hundred countries around the world, different styles, different genres. One of the films from USA is called “The First Girl I Loved”, and the director was coming to my first period on Friday. The world of filmmaking has always been interesting to me, so no way I would pass this opportunity, although he wasn’t a big block-buster movie director.

So I went to first period. Which I think was worth going. However, on the way to and during second period, I started getting down for not going to Skip Day. I didn’t even turn in the permission slip. I was so ready just to skip fourth and sixth on my own and finish reading The 5th Wave in the library (ok now I really have no defense if you call me a nerd).

I walked to third—Tomchick—and welcomed by his question, “Aren’t you going to Senior Field Trip?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want to miss first period.”

“You can still go. They haven’t even started yet.”

That lit up a speck of light in my face.

I still endured third period, then went to the Activity Center as Tomchick instructed, where he said I would find a ride there. I ran into Mr. Henderson instead—Henderson and Tomchick were the chaperones. I asked him, then he told me to go to the main office since there were also other seniors who would be getting a ride to Seward Park. I met Sadia there, she turned her and my permission slips, then get a ride with her and Naimo to Seward Park.

In front of the park, right at the sign, a white poster that says “RBHS Seniors—follow the balloon!”. There were balloons tied up to road signs along the way, until we found a clearing filled with people.

Seward Park is a really nice park. It’s wide, it has open plains and tree-shadowed plains, benches, a shelter, a big swing set. I saw Mr. Christopholus by the shelter preparing the grill. The tables in the shelter were filled with unopened food, drinks, and utensils, and the benches outside were packed with backpacks. I got out of the car and Price shouted my name... which I totally didn’t expect would happen since we never really talk.

Anyway, I looked around. I saw people in the grassfield, playing frisbee. Some people in the shelter. Some people by the benches playing ping pong and bean bag toss. I put my backpack on one of the benches and slowly joined the others playing bean bag toss. Me, Nina, Alex, Jeremiah, Rony, Mr. Jefferson—the ceramic teacher—and later, Bobby.

Honest opinion—in second period, I was so close to giving up and hoping I won’t miss anything. I thought it would be boring (since when I asked what’s going to be there, Tomchick said “just hanging out”), I thought there would only be people I wouldn’t connect with (baca: anak-anak berandal hits), but it turned out to be really fun. Seriously, it was really fun—it was worth skipping a whole school day for.

(playing this game Tomchick dubbed “Chinese numbers”--which, apparently, is also a game I happen to know later back in Indo, also dubbed “angka Cina”)

Kapan lagi bisa bolos bareng-bareng seangkatan? Kalau niat sih, aku juga bisa bikin ginian di angkatan sekolah Indo. Bedanya 1) bakal susah buat ngerayu semuanya, dan 2) kepsek dan guru bakal marah besar sebesar-besarnya, rapor/SKHU bisa ditahan, seangkatan bisa dijemur seharian pas upacara (which isn’t new to us, hufft), dan beragam jenis kemurkaan guru lainnya. Belum lagi di angkatan memang ada anak yang superduper baik dan santun dan 99% bakalan nggak mau dirayu (mengacu ke poin 1).

Oh, satu lagi. Kalau memang kejadian, aku—sebagai anak AFS dan pioneer ‘hari bolos’—bisa lebih berabe lagi.

Uh. Okay.

I should’ve realized things like this always have an advantage—and one big major advantage that I would totally skip school for is getting to know people. There are people I have the same class with, people that also went on the Salish Sea field trip but were in a different group than me so I didn’t really talk to them, people who were just in the hallways—on this day I got to talk to them if I haven’t, and if I have, I got to socialize with them more (this might sound petty to you social butterflies, but as an introvert, I felt happy with it).

So yeah. Thanks for that.

Aside from that, this week really has been a week of hangouts—referring to the title. With friends, with family, and with myself.

Hey. I love me some me-time.

I wrote about this in the last post(s). Last week, I watched CA: Civil War, but before then, I had an hour to kill, so I went to Barnes and Noble. And I discovered this book, read the back of it, read a few first pages, and just like that, I was hooked.

Since then, I’ve been going to Barnes and Noble just to read the book without actually buying it. (well only three times since it’s a short read) On Monday I went there and finished the whole thing. I was dying. I went home empty-hearted, needing a closure.

(please refer to the previous post)

Not a perfect book, but then again, I’m not a perfect book reviewer, I was mostly just there for the emotions and intense storyline. If you like intense thriller books that wring your soul out of emotion, you probably will like it.

(“why not borrow it from the library?” you might ask—well, it’s a newly published book, that’s why, plus I looked it up on Seattle Public Library website and found jack)

On Wednesday, Kira and Tania and Victoria and I hung out downtown. Mostly because Tania is leaving on June 8th and Tania and Victoria’s school is close to my and Kira’s school so we gotta hang out after school at least once. So we did.

And on Thursday, Livia (this Indonesian girl I met in SCC) and I went to Chihuly Garden and Glass in Seattle Center. A good catch-up session, plus she’s transferring to San Francisco after this summer quarter.

Friday, after that senior skip day, my host parents and I went to Whidbey Island with Tommy and Anna—their friends—and their kids and rent a vacation house for the long weekend (Monday, May 30, is Memorial Day—which means no school and work). We didn’t go there right after my school day, so even though it’s not too long of a ride, we got there at around 9.30pm, where Tommy and Anna and their kids were asleep already.

In the morning, I woke up, went downstairs, and was welcomed by a 4-year-old and 2-year-old running around the house excitedly, stark naked.

“Naked baby!” that’s exactly what they said, over and over, until like an hour later Anna successfully put a shirt on Colin, the 2-y.o.

Cute kids. Typical loud, running-around, cute kids. Good thing the vacation house we rented had a huge sand box as its front yard (apart from the fact that the houses around were facing the beach, where there was... well, sand), plus the pails and sandcastle-making tools and all. There was also a bunch of tree trunks which unexpectedly formed some sort of cave (or maybe people in the past made it on purpose?) in which Colin and Anna liked to play.

It was probably the chillest weekend I’ve ever had. No planned activities, mostly spent walking along the coast, playing with the kids, reading (and finishing) my book, chilling in the front yard under the bright sun but cold breeze, and tagging along with Karen to shop for groceries and other trinkets (<--referring to the time she took me to a quilt shop).

OH WAIT. We also spend the nights watching Lord of the Rings. Hehehe.

Another thing that is the highlight of this weekend was how it has planted the first seed of what would affect my future life decisions since, which I will always be grateful for. But that part shall come later.

---

There it was. A week of hangouts. With fellow seniors, with AFS friends, with Indonesian friend, with my host family, with little kids, and of course, the most important, with myself.

Salam dari pelajar yang bermental main (in my defense, guru aku pernah bilang kalau punya mental main itu penting!),

Nabila Safitri.

#langkahanakbangsa #afs friends #RBHS

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jadewing-realms · 6 years

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“You should have seen it.”

Fictober 2018 - Day 18

Yeah you could be Someone special You've got bright in your brains and Lightning in your veins You'll go higher then they've ever gone In you I see Someone special You've got fire in your eyes and When you realize You'll go further then we've ever gone (look) Just turn it on

~ Miracles (Coldplay)

Sasuke has been in Izuku’s room a hundred times at this point. They’re thirteen now, they’ve been friends since second grade, and they basically live in each others’ houses by now. Everything in his house is familiar to Izuku, and everything in Izuku’s is familiar to him. Sasuke can always notice if something new appears, always asks about it or admires it out loud. That said, the Midoriya household is generally very constant—steadfast, predictable. Bargain interior decorations, as Mrs. Midoriya has scruples, and more practical items than anything else. With… the exception of Izuku’s room. Every long now and again, like today, Sasuke feels the need to stop in the doorway and let his gaze drift over the overwhelming amount of red, white, blue and yellow plastered in every available bit of wall or shelf space.

The sheer volume of All Might memorabilia sometimes hits him square between the eyes and makes him feel like he needs to blink, rapidly, for a minute or two. Or several.

Sasuke shakes the compulsion away and sets his backpack down next to Izuku’s yellow one. More yellow… I forget he uses the color so much. Izuku’s already on his way back out into the main living space, squeezing past Sasuke when both of them occupy the space in the doorframe for a brief second.

“We were almost late,” Izuku huffs with obvious relief. “We made it back just in time!” He scampers off down the hallway and calls, louder here than he ever is at school. “Ready, Mom!”

With a smirk that holds more fondness than Sasuke intends, he follows after his friend.

Whenever he comes over after a long school day, it’s become a tradition of sorts to help Mrs. Midoriya make dinner. Sasuke’s never minded; not when he’s adding to her work with his presence. It’s always seemed fair that he contribute for himself. Mrs. Midoriya turns on some music—usually oldies; her music tastes are charmingly outdated, and growing up with this musical influence made it rub off on Izuku—and then she’ll assign each of the boys a portion of the cooking. Usually something simple and straightforward, like chopping vegetables, or cooking the rice, boiling noodles. She always handles the more difficult tasks, and still finds time to give them guidance with their tasks.

Then, when they’re all finished and the food is steaming and ready to serve, they all sit around the table and Mrs. Midoriya asks them how their day was. About their classes, their favorite part of the day, anything special that happened. They fill her in, give her details, leave some out—mostly Izuku refrains from any mention of whatever torment he had to endure that day at the hands of the sheep-headed masses who follow the example set by the likes of Bakugou Katsuki. Yes, today goes by much the same way every other day does.

When they finish eating, as usual, they load up the dishwasher together and, once it’s running, the boys are free to retreat to Izuku’s room. Today’s a Friday; tomorrow is Saturday and Sasuke’s gotten permission to stay the night for the first time in a while, so long as they finish their homework. They had spent the whole of the walk home from school coming up with things they could do this time.

Usually, they study, they talk Heroes, they watch YouTube videos, they talk more Heroes. Izuku brainstorms his Hero costume, Sasuke brainstorms his tech.

Again, though, Sasuke finds himself pausing a minute to look over the posters on Izuku’s walls… the figurines on his shelf… the notebooks stacked on his desk. Then he looks to his friend, who’s nose is still buried in his textbook as he does what their mothers requested, and can’t help but think…

He doesn’t need a Quirk.

Nobody else seems willing to tell him that though. Izuku’s told him (and only him) of what his mother said to him the day they found out about his lack of powers. And Sasuke’s witnessed first hand the way he’s treated in class… sometimes by the teachers themselves.

It’s true, despite his somewhat mediocre existence here at home, Izuku’s not ‘normal,’ not by a long shot. He is... unique. Fun. Outstanding, even. So he doesn’t have this One Thing that eighty percent of the population does. Sasuke understands that, understands it’s uncommon. What he doesn’t understand is why, exactly, that’s looked at as a negative thing.

Izuku has plenty of other amazing things he can do, even things he’s better at than most people.

Like homework. Izuku tears through it like a starving man inhales a loaf of bread. Every time, too. He’s as fast as Sasuke, and his grades are just as good. Midoriya Izuku is smarter than the average person.

Once they finish their studies up like good students aiming for futures in Hero work, they dive to the computer. As per tradition, the first thing they watch is Izuku’s old favorite. The classic throwback, of one of All Might’s debut rescues.

After that, they get lost in suggested views, allowing themselves to spiral deep down the YouTube rabbit hole… for science. Izuku takes notes, as usual.

Except… it’s really not normal in a general sense, is it? Sasuke’s never met anyone as dedicated to Heroism as Izuku.

Even if the likes of Bakugou Katsuki would try to insist otherwise.

Nah, Bakugou Katsuki is basic. Average. The usual. Boring. Not to mention annoying as h***, and a narcissist to boot. Why does someone outstanding like Izuku waste his efforts on somebody like that? Sasuke just shakes his head.

“Hm?” Uh oh, Izuku notices. Wait, Sasuke actually shook his head? Whoops… “What’s wrong?”

Sasuke blinks against the glare of light from the screen. He… well, now he needs to think of something to actually say. Something useful, thought-provoking, since they only do this to better their instincts and understanding of their chosen craft…

“I feel like we’ve seen all these already,” he points out. And it’s true. Everything they’ve been watching, he’s almost positive they’ve watched at least once before, if not more often. He knows what’s going to happen before it does, and as much as he does like these Heroes and their escapades captured for all to see via some idiotic bystander’s camera phone, he can’t say he’s feeling ‘the usual’ so much tonight.

Not when he’s being hounded by constructs of society like some middle-aged philosopher during a full moon.

“Hmmm…” Izuku scrolls away from the video right when Death Arms is mid-uppercut, searching for… something. Anything, Sasuke supposes. Something they haven’t seen before. Then suddenly, he sits straight, face lighting up as a thought occurs. “Oh! Did you see what happened just the other day?”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow. “What other day?”

“Oh, I dunno… it was, like, last weekend? Over in Minato, All Might took down a crazy villain. I got to watch from the street corner!”

“I heard something about that from the gossips in class, but no, I haven’t seen anything.” Sasuke shifts in his seat, tucking one foot underneath him. “We were visiting my grandma. She doesn’t have internet.”

Izuku’s eyebrows jump. “No inter—gosh, how can you even function without—”

“Nobody knows.”

With a quick headshake, Izuku hunches over the keyboard and lets his fingers fly. “Lemme see if I can find some footage; there’s gotta be something up by now.”

Indeed, when he searches ‘all might minato fight’ a great selection of results come up. Several have high view counts but are from months past, but the top result is from just a few days ago. It’s title reads ‘CRAZY All Might battle vs ROCK MONSTER (actuall footage).’

“Ah, a grammarian,” Sasuke murmurs with a fair dose of sarcasm.

Izuku giggles, but abruptly silences himself as the video begins to play. A click and it fills the screen, expanding the blurry view of a city street, from the perspective of a phone that appears to be bouncing. From the wind and puffing sounds, not to mention the violent jerking of the footage, the person holding it is running, down the sidewalk, and comes upon a crowd of people at the corner. Several others have their phones out and over their heads.

Halfway down the block, visible once the camera’s jittering stills somewhat, a massive villain made of stone looms, swinging its arm like a giant mace at the spangley hero that’s currently launching himself through said villain’s personal space. The bystanders are all murmuring, some shouting, cheering, the guy behind the camera is uttering expletives of pure awe and wonder, and above it all, All Might’s raucous laughter booms over the rumble of heavy rock.

“IS THAT ALL YOU’VE GOT, BIG GUY!?” the hero trumpets just before he delivers a Washington Smash to the underside of the rock monster’s jaw. The crowd goes wild. Sasuke leans forward in his seat, trying to see through the camera blurs despite knowing there’s no way he’ll be able to get a better look at the action.

Then the moron drops his phone, there’s a harried curse and the crunch of plastic on concrete, the hushed fumble of fingers, and the video ends.

Izuku whimpers a little. “Dang it, that was so short…”

“You could probably describe what happened to me better than any video.” Easing out of his investment, Sasuke leans back in his chair and levels his friend with a steady, expectant stare.

Come on. Do your thing.

Izuku laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno, probably not, but… I can try!”

With a sudden vigor belying his previous hesitation, he then launches into a detailed eye-witness account of a rock monster that tried to attack the Number One Hero’s agency building like a total idiot and of how that Number One Hero launched right out of said building to engage with the monster himself. He lays the scene out play by play, describing each of All Might’s moves and counter moves with a level of specificity that’s more than enough to convince Sasuke that it happened exactly as Izuku tells it.

“He had the thing ambling around in circles!” he says, hands splaying animatedly in his retelling. “He was so fast! The rock villain brought his arm down like a pile-driver and All Might just swung off his arm—not an ounce of fear! For every time the villain missed, All Might would land a hit like it was nothing. And he was laughing the whole time! The rock villain got so frustrated, he didn’t even know which way to look. Then All Might finished him off with a Texas Smash that threw him a whole block down the street! You should have seen it!”

Sasuke doubts Izuku notices that whenever he talks about All Might, he looks just as fearless. Whether that makes All Might a crutch… or just means Izuku’s that passionate and dedicated to this dream, Sasuke’s not sure but he’d like to believe it’s the latter. He’s used to being surrounded by… well, depression. Grim reality. That’ll happen when the brother you looked up to and idolized (much like how Izuku looks up to All Might, actually…) turns out to be a psycho killer and takes your Heroic father away from you and widows your mother.

But Izuku… it’s like, no matter what he’s been through, he can still smile and fanboy like this—without fear. Sure, he hasn’t been through quite what Sasuke has… but that’s good, he supposes. Better to be average in that area.

Izuku meets his gaze and stills his laughter, looking a bit confused at the fact that Sasuke, as he now realizes, is staring.

“What?” Izuku blinks. “What’s that look for?”

Sasuke snorts, and his answer comes a bit more easily this time. “You really like All Might, don’t you?”

“I… I mean…” Izuku glances around his room, at the computer screen, and finally at his lap, and a small smile creeps across his lips, milder and more hesitant than the grin that had beamed from his face just seconds before. “Well, yeah. He’s… he’s the reason I want to become a Hero in the first place. He’s why I keep… trying. Hoping. I just… I can only dream that maybe, some day… I can be even a fraction of the Hero he is. He’s… he’s extraordinary.”

“Hm…” Sasuke follows the path of Izuku’s previous glance. All Might’s smiling face surrounds them, to an almost unnerving degree, his presence radiating from the walls. And he thinks… that if Izuku has these in here not only as a shrine to his ultimate inspiration, but also as a ward to keep the poisonous barbs from the outside World of Mediocrity from sticking to him once he crosses the threshold of this space… that makes All Might cooler than any villain fight.

And it makes Izuku pretty d*** cool too.

“Yeah, I guess he is.” Sasuke returns his attention back to his friend, who’s staring now at the notebook he has on the desk top between them. He’s opened it to his sketch page, where his concept drawings for his Hero costume are. Sasuke taps the page. “He’d be cooler without the rabbit ears, though.”

Izuku gasps like Sasuke just uttered the bitterest of heresies and he needs a cross to shove in his face or something. “No, the ears are iconic!!”

“Izuku, the guy’s the definition of an icon, and I doubt he’d be any less of one if he nixxed the weird haircut.”

“Noooo, he needs the haircut. It makes him approachable.”

“Uh-huh. Well, in that case, don’t you think you’re bordering on plagiarism with your bunny hood, there?”

“What!? D-Do you really think—”

As Izuku launches to his own defense, Sasuke just smiles to himself. Partly in amusement, and with just a hint of fondness.

No, Izuku, I don’t really think that. I just think you’ll be fine being Just You.

#fictober18 #my hero academia #naruto #crossover #fix-it au #sasuke uchiha #izuku midoriya #deku #fluff #sentimental sasuke

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howardschatzphotography · 6 years

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On Seeing: A Journal - #259 June 12th, 2018

"Above & Beyond with Adam Gopnik”

Adam Gopnik is a Renaissance Man’s Renaissance Man. A long-time staff writer at The New Yorker, he is an essayist, a critic, a playwright, a novelist, an author of children’s books…in short, the epitome of the enlightened human. I read his writing avidly, and, a few weeks ago, invited him to our studio to participate in my project “ABOVE and BEYOND.” A three-time winner of the National Magazine Award, Gopnik has amazingly broad knowledge of many areas, including: Art and art history, culture, politics, music, even sports. His first essay in The New Yorker, "Quattrocento Baseball," appeared in May of 1986, and he served as the magazine’s art critic from 1987 to 1995. During our interview, he spoke in perfectly structured, literate English, as clear and precise as his written words. Here are some of Gopnik’s thoughts that I found especially compelling from our interview: HS: So prolific, I wonder how you organize your life. When do you write? When do you read? When do you think? When do you go to museums, see friends, have a life? You must have some efficiently organized method in order to produce as much as you do. AG: I have a very standard routine. I start drinking strong coffee early in the morning. I go off to my little study and I write for four hours. I have many sisters, one of them a distinguished psychologist, and she says that you can only do creative work intently for four hours at a stretch. So, I do four hours from nine til one, every day. I try not to do anything else. I’m just there to write. I do it in a way that makes it maximally uncomfortable for anyone else who intrudes on me, because I can only write if I’m playing extremely loud rock music from my high school years: Jethro Tull; Eric Clapton with Derek & The Dominos, that great Layla album; Jimi Hendrix; all of that music. HS: You play this music, and loudly, as you write? AG: I can’t think if I don’t have the music, that’s the funny thing. I also overheat terribly as I’m writing, so I have to keep the windows open in the middle of winter. I’ve had a series of wonderful assistants just coming out of college, and they’re sort of excited about the job. You know, “I’m going to be a writer’s assistant and see the elegance of a New Yorker writer’s life," and instead it’s just a little man, four hours a day, in a brutally cold room with incredibly loud music playing, and that’s their experience. So, they’d retreat into the hallway and spend the time talking with my wife.

HS: Where and how do you think your work has had greatest impact given the political and cultural bias of The New Yorker? AG: Writing for The New Yorker, which is a traditionally liberal magazine, of course you ask yourself a question, "what am I really affecting here?" because I’m writing to people who agree with me in advance. But, if you look at the greatest political editorialists who have ever lived, Albert Camus, for instance, they were writing themed journals that were directed to people who were inclined to agree with them in the first place. What we do, I think, as citizens, writing, is not so much to change minds as to bear witness. What you want to say is not, “here’s an argument that will convince you of the opposite of what you believe already, but here’s the kind of argument you ought to be making to the people who don’t agree with you." HS: We live in a time with a bully in the White House. And, yet, despite the mean-spirited and hypocritical behavior, there are still thirty to forty percent of Americans… AG: Who love him. HS: And my question on changing people’s minds comes from something you wrote in your wonderful book, "At the Strangers’ Gate," that was astounding. I’d like to read it and perhaps you can comment on it: "No one really surrenders an illusion in the face of a fact. We prefer the illusion to the fact. The more facts you invoke, in fact, the stronger the illusion becomes. All faith is immune to all facts to the contrary, or else we would not have such hearty faiths and such oft-resisted facts. If your faith is in life’s poetry, as ours was, a tiny room inadequate by any human standard and designed to make life borderline impossible looks appealing. The less possible it becomes the more beautiful the illusion looks. Such illusions – call them delusions; I won’t argue now – grow under the pressure of absurdity, as champagne grapes sweeten under the stress of cold ground." AG: Yes, I think that’s true. I mean, I was writing specifically there about the reality that when Martha, my then girlfriend, now wife for many years, and I moved to New York, we were enraptured with an idea of poetry, a kind of metropolitan poetry. And, the apartment we moved into was 9x11 basement room overrun by cockroaches in which there was about as little poetry as you could expect to find in the world. But, we weren’t disillusioned by it. We simply doubled-down on the myths that we were self-creating, and I think that’s generally true. You know, no one is ever argued out of a religious faith by contrary facts. No one is every argued out of a political ideology. That’s the problem we’re faced with: You can’t resist a figure like Trump by appealing to the facts, by saying he lies all the time, because the people who admire him like the fact that he lies all the time. The lies, in a certain way, are appealing to them because it gives them license to indulge their own fantasies. In other words, if somebody tells you three million people voted illegally in California, it’s an outright, absurd lie. But, that an authority figure says it gives you a right to believe in it. If your question is what do you do then, when you have a leader who is completely allergic to facts and who appeals to an audience that’s resistant to facts, I think the answer is that you can’t fantasize that you’re going to convert those folks. What happens is that you get new generations who just don’t buy it. If you think about the great social changes, the great positive social changes of our time, they tend not to happen because you have people who are entrenched in a bigoted or old-fashioned reactionary position who are converted. What tends to happen, is the young generations who come along simply don’t enlist in the bigotry.

HS: I’d like to talk about the natural history of creativity, its life-cycle. There’s sort of an apex, a fertile period of creativity, then a downturn. Recently, I heard Dylan say when asked about his seminal work of 50 years ago, "Who writes like that?!" Probably everybody’s curve is different and maybe some people have a second curve. Do you have any thoughts about that? AG: I think that any honest, creative person is bound to confess that when one looks at other artists and creative people, you tend to see that they have a high period and then a falling off period. Bob Dylan is a remarkable character, but there’s no question that the Dylan between 1966 and 1974, between Blonde on Blonde and Blood on the Tracks is the Dylan who we’ll remember. Paul McCartney is a musician of limitless melodic invention, but the McCartney we’ll remember is between 1965 and 1969. So, there’s a lot be said for the idea that artists ought to retire in a way that fighters ought to retire before they get punch-drunk and lazy-legged and all the rest of it. However, what I do think is true is that even if you accept that all creativity is cyclical and has a falling off point, there’s still an enormous value in artists persisting, because artists don’t just give us the gift of their products, they give us the gift of their example. Dylan 2018 is not writing songs the way Dylan 1968 did, but it’s wonderful to see him continuing to stand up there with his croaky voice and his little mustache bearing witness to what it is to have been Bob Dylan. HS: Do some artists have two periods of great work? AG: Yes, I think they do. Matisse did unimaginably beautiful work between 1905 and 1920; went on doing interesting, not nearly as profound work and then, suddenly, as an old man changed his medium, started using scissors instead of a paint brush and, once again, did utterly sublime work. De Kooning, another artist who had a great late blooming. Philip Roth, to take a name that doesn’t seem to sit with de Kooning and Matisse, maybe, at first, through sheer dint and intelligence continued to blaze new kinds of witness, new kinds of writing, in part, because he had the enormously smart idea that he should write about what it was like when he was young again. Instead of trying to bear witness again and again to the new world, he wrote very much about New York in the 1940s. I don’t think silence is a good answer for an artist, even if an artist is aware that it’s a general rule that you do your best work at a particular moment; the work that people will remember most. HS: What are your thoughts on the larger issues of the day, especially fake news and how, in a way, it threatens our democracy? AG: Fake news is one of those things that has managed, through the mendacious spin of a very mendacious man, to totally reverse meaning. When fake news was first talked about people meant actually manufactured fraudulent stories that were being passed around on the internet, very often to the benefit of Donald Trump. He turned it around to make it an accusation at people who were actually doing real news: CNN, The New York Times and so on, who do their work in the same flawed and imperfect way that we all do our work, but who genuinely are trying to report the world as it is. It’s Trump, the man who speaks loudest about fake news, who is the most culpable of spreading fake news… “three million people voted illegally, I had the biggest crowd," and on and on and on. So, I don’t feel fake news is as big a problem as the people crying about fake news. In other words, it’s when the governing class decides to demoralize the population by telling them they can’t believe anything that they’re being told. That’s when you get the crisis. I’m not worried about fake news. I’m worried about fake politicians.

#adamgopnik #howardschatz #journalism #newyorker #the new yorker magazine #writer #interview

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naomi-owens · 6 years

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WILMINGTON TASK 002 ; QUESTIONNAIRE

ARE YOU A WILMINGTON NATIVE? IF NOT, WHERE DID YOU GROW UP? TELL US ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD.

The question had been one she was expecting, and one that immediately brought a faint smile to paint over her light pink lips. She was fiercely proud of her childhood; it was something she would never get tired of reminiscing — as her two parents always made sure the Owens’ children were well taken care of, and sculpted into proper human beings. “I am, yes. Born and raised over in Masonboro.” Naomi answered. “We actually have stuck around the same house since my oldest brothers were born. It’s sort of that modern, yet traditional Southern style farmhouse with daphne plants up the walkway and a really, really big backyard with a barbecue on the deck and a fire pit right smack in the middle of the yard. They struck lucky with getting the property for cheap. Fun fact, it was actually built on a apple orchard years and years back…” Naomi trailed off, swiping some loose curls from her eyes before chuckling to herself. “I can’t wait to get back into that house properly. Alex’s place is fancy and nice and all, but it isn’t the same.” Taking a moment to inhale a deep breath, lulling over the memory of her childhood home that her parents worked themselves to the bone to spruce up, Naomi sat up a bit straighter in her seat to continue. “I honestly can’t sit here and tell you how nice my childhood was because it was…incredible. It’s going to sound super unrealistic. My parents literally did everything for us and worked off their bare back. I didn’t fight with my siblings more than the usual annoying little sister who just wanted to hang out with her three older brothers. We were middle class, but my Mom and Dad worked so hard we hardly ever were aware if we might have been struggling. I went to school, got amazing grades and made amazing life long friends. My older twin brothers were star soccer players, Dominic was just lost in photography and art, and I went on to join the volleyball team, cheerleading squad, and the high school band league. We had family dinners every Thursday night, my parents made our friends feel like children of their own, we all attended church down in Forest Hills on Sunday…I don’t know, it sounds all too good to be true, but it was literally the perfect childhood. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH YOUR FAMILY? DO YOU HAVE SIBLINGS? A LARGE EXTENDED FAMILY?

“They’re the worst. Seriously, I don’t know how I managed to deal with them for as long as I have…” Naomi faked the idea though was shaking her head, unable to take her own joke seriously. She loved her family far too much to ever carry on such a joke — the topic of her parents, her siblings, her aunts and uncles always brought a sudden warmth to her heart. She was cheesy in that sense, as nothing made Naomi more happy than the fact that she could honestly say she was tied with a beautiful, wholesome family with their own little whacky quirks. “Anyway, no, being serious… I’m close with everyone. It’s kind of insane how we managed with how we came to be. Quick history lesson! My Mama was actually born up near Burlington before she moved over to Wilmington in high school. My grandparents, Sofia and Ivan Burgos, were born in Burlington as well. My great grandparents on my grandma’s side, however, originated over in Ukraine before they picked a random place on the map in America, or one that was at least well established, and picked up and moved. They moved to the states when my grandmother was eighteen, and brought my grandfather with them. I actually never got to meet them, but from what I learned from my Ma, I got the sass from my great grandmother, Eva.” Naomi chuckled some more, twisting around the small cross that dangled around her neck once the topic moved to her father. “My Dad had lived here for generations. He’s the more Americanized side of my family, thus where I’ve gotten the true Southern trait, and the Owens last name. My father’s family has lived here since…God, I can’t even count. He used to tell me all these stories of my grandparents and their time in participating in those horse races, even making it to the Kentucky Derby…My Dad ended up losing his parents when he was in his twenties, a few years after my twin brothers were born, and his sister not long after that due to illness and an accident. So really, my Dad was all we ended up having from that side of the family. He did a really good job of keeping the tradition of the Southern Owens name and family alive, even if how our own little family started was a bit unorthodox…”

Naomi then exhaled a deep breath, realizing she had began to ramble a bit more off topic than necessary — but at the end of the day, she rarely got to ramble about her family’s history. It was almost like she was taking advantage of it to reminisce herself. “Anyway, my parents were both born in 1959, and they met when they were freshmen in high school. Fourteen, I believe? They both went to New Hanover. Long story short, they fell in love, got together, and somehow and some way my two oldest twin brothers came before they could even graduate. That was the seventies so… teenage pregnancy was really frowned upon way more than it is now. It just didn’t happen…especially with twins. They basically got the blessing from their parents and got married before my brothers were born, moved into a tiny apartment, and my Dad started working in construction. My Dad ended up dropping out of high school to take care of my Mom and the twins, while my Mom finished high school and got her diploma. She went on to grab a job with the county as a clerk for some politician and got lucky, because that job earned her a retirement and a pretty big chunk of change to put into our savings. It honestly still amazes me how they did it…My grandparents were very little help because of their “traditional” values.” Naomi trailed off once more, dampening her lips with the smile still evident on her features. “So basically, that’s how we came to be. Roger and Joseph were about ten when they moved into the house we have now, then my other brother, Dominic, was born, then five years later I was born.” A deep breath was exhaled from her chest when she finished her long ramble, adjusting her weight within the seat and crossing one long leg over the other. “I honestly think our history is what made us so close. You know? We’ve been through so much, we all worked so hard. We shared a loss of my Dad three years ago, we shared a childhood that was the best one we could be. Even now, when I’m living with my mom in her old age and Dominic is traveling the world, and my other two are nestled up in Forest Hills starting their careers and family, we still manage to make it work. We’re all still in contact. It’s incredible.”

DESCRIBE YOUR HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE.

“Traditional,” Naomi began to laugh, before she was shaking her head and waving her hands to try to steer back to the point she was making. “And that’s not like…it’s not a bad thing. No. It’s just…you know when you watch a movie and those teenagers are literally living the perfect lives? Perfect life, big group of friends who always hung out on Friday night after a football game? That was it. That was my life, and I honestly loved it. Granted, we added our own twists and spices of our own sort, but that was it. I joined as many teams and clubs as I could to get to know people, because little Naomi Owens was stuck in her brother’s spotlight and legacy he left if she didn’t try to step out of it.” Naomi laughed, poking fun at Dominic’s popularity within her high school…especially with the female population. “I met some of the very best people of my life there, and those who are still the most important to me. I met someone I hated then, then ironically almost went on to marry.” Naomi shrugged at the thought of Tristen, though briefly recalled the time where Tristen and Jaxon spent more and more time together in the shared hallways, which resulted in her next comment. “Met someone who I still cannot stand but manages to make perfect, little babies with Alicia—, I met Amy… I met my best friend. She became my sister. I spent more and more time with people from middle school. We went to cheer camp, cheer competitions, cheered at those football games and partied at the Taylor house where we drank too much bad beer and almost got caught by the cops. We went to prom, and killed it. Had bonfires down at Wrightsville…I got good grades, I think I fell in love... I truly had the time of my life in high school. Sometimes, I honestly wish I could go back.”

WHAT WAS YOUR YEARBOOK SUPERLATIVE? WHY WAS THIS SO?

“Oh God, I got two.” Naomi laughed. “Best Eyes, and uh—, Most Likely to Brighten Up Your Day, which I think both are extremely accurate. I mean,” She then went up to playfully frame her cheeks, like she was showcasing her facial features and her big multi colored hues for the opposing person. “Plus, I’m not one to object that I can make someone’s day brighter. It is my goal, anyway. You don’t get the nickname of ‘Sunshine’ from multiple people for nothing, you know?”

WHAT DID YOU DO AFTER HIGH SCHOOL? DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE? IF NOT, WHY?

“I ended up going to University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, which is why I’m still so directly involved with their galas and the first responder charity balls. I’m a loud and proud alumni.” Naomi hummed out her answer playfully, ironically sporting the traditional colors of her alma mater, with the Carolina blue laced within her white blouse. “I went back and forth for half of my senior year on where I wanted to go. I knew I wanted to go to college, and I had the best grades I could have so I could basically go anywhere I wanted and have a great chance at getting accepted. I was in love with music, but I was more in love with the idea of spreading the knowledge and the love it could bring rather than constantly performing it, and making money off marketing my talent. So, the decision to get my teaching degree was kind of made up immediately. I loved school and the simple math and English class anyway, so why not?” She then began to laugh, tapping her manicured fingernails down on her knee. She could remember the night she applied for UNC vividly. It was after a long talk with her father on her goals, dreams, and what she wanted to accomplish. It was one of many that she had shared with that man, and one she truly had taken to heart. It resulted in her climbing out of bed to grab her laptop at two in the morning, lighting up her bedroom with the computer screen and spending the next five hours on the application that would grant her an acceptance to one of the better schools in the South…and as close to home as she could possibly get. “College, anyway, was kind of like high school. It was just a whole other ballpark. At the time life was changing, which is to be expected, but I’m not personally a big fan of change.” Athena had been gone to California by then. Rhett was up in New York, making small visits with his then girlfriend. Things had changed, people had changed drastically. She made new friends, and new lifelong friends. “I joined a sorority for a hot minute. It wasn’t my cup of tea, I ended up declining the bid I got from this girl after the week I spent there. The parties were great though.” Naomi laughed some more. “But no, it was nice. It’s where I got to know Tristen really well. I got my own apartment for the first time —, with a roommate of course, got close with Alicia (@aliciapvlmeiro) , then came student teaching, then eventually graduated with my teaching degree.”

WAS THERE AN EVENT IN YOUR LIFE THAT GREATLY IMPACTED WHO YOU ARE NOW AS A PERSON?

“There was a few, but none as deep as the next person’s.” It was a little fib that left her mouth before she was releasing a chuckle to follow to mask the mood killer, brushing back a few loose locks of hair from her eyes. “As cliche as it might be, my Dad passing a few years ago definitely shook me up. It changed my entire life. My Dad was practically my best friend and, well, his death was kind of sudden. One day he was a healthy man nearing the end of his fifties and the next we’re getting a call he suffered from a heart attack on the job site that literally killed him.” Naomi paused, forcing herself to suck in a sharp breath in order to actually get through explaining the year that followed. “The months after his final day were…hard. I’ve never seen my Mom so distraught. She was a whole other person. I can’t blame her considering her and my Dad had been in each other’s life’s for nearly half of their own, but still. Seeing your Mom like that…It’s a whole other ballpark, and it was like for at least five months my family shut down on themselves. My brothers used the excuse of their own lives to ignore the fine details that my Mom needed help with. Dominic literally fled the country to “travel” for work and Roger and Joseph…they hid themselves behind their wives for a while. At that point my Mom was hardly taking care of herself; she wasn’t eating properly, she wasn’t taking her own medication, wasn’t attending her doctor’s appointments. Moving back in with my Mom after being on my own wasn’t ideal, and it basically ruined my relationship at the time, but it was kind of a given.” Shrugging her shoulders, Naomi shook them afterwards as if she was shaking of the gloomy cloud that hovered over her whenever she talked about that year. It was hard, and took her quite a while to be able to talk about without suffering from one of her classic panic attacks. “I think it definitely shaped me into being more grateful for the little things, and living in the moment. You don’t realize half of what you have and you take them for granted more often than not.”

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? IF NOT, DO YOU THINK THAT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE?

The question sort of snuck up on her, and the hammering in her chest was surely noticeable. It was an easy answer, with plenty of complicated underlying layers. She had been in love twice in her life, and both times had differed tremendously. “I’ve actually been lucky. I’ve been in love twice, and while life kind of screwed me over, it still reiterates the fact that love will forever be something to believe in. When you experience a great love not only once, but twice…you can’t help but imagine what might be in store for you next.” Naomi could still recall the very moment when she was hardly eighteen years old clad in a tiny part of jean shorts, loose blouse and drink in her hand as she danced upon the tailgate with her friends on the beach, including the young boy she had fallen for. She didn’t know it then, how could she? She hardly knew anything she wanted back then, but with the logics laid out in front of her now she knew she was very much in love. She knew so with the way it was so easy to hop down and allow her feet to carry her across the sand to the teenage boy that made her heart flutter, and throat close up to feel like she was suffocating. She knew, and it was the ultimate reason why she ended up granting him the gift of being her first — despite the fact that he never was aware of that little fact, she did date once or twice other than Rhett Sullivan, it still secretly meant something to her. It was a young love that she was sure of back then, then fizzled to the back burner once he made the grand move and time and distance forced the two to become a distant memory that could still be warm to the touch. Tristen came along years later and pulled her from the slumps, and displayed himself as a completely new person from the obnoxious teenager she despised in high school. He was older, mature, dreamy and smart. It was difficult not to fall in love with him after so much time of dating, and day dreaming about a time together when he could slip a ring on her finger and make the transition from their apartment to a house filled with kids one day. Naomi smiled at the memory, allowing herself that brief moment that wasn’t swarmed with bitterness and frustration she felt over the overall ending that came with Tristen, and instead allowed herself to reminisce the good parts in peace.

“I’ve been in love with two amazing guys, with years between them. The first was a young love, kind of the teenage dream type of thing…We never said it, we didn’t have to. He knew.” Naomi nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear once again. “And then the next grew over time. I hated that guy at first. He was everything I despised in a person for the longest time, and yet years later he matured into someone I grew to love. I swore I was going to marry that guy…” Trailing off, Naomi then shook her head. “He’s gone now. Things didn’t work out, for obvious reasons. I think he’s in Chicago now with a really good job, and even if I’m a little bitter, I hope he’s happy. He deserves it.” Her body shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable within her seat, her lips pressed together once more. “As for the future? Of course. I don’t believe anyone is limited to one or two great loves. If we’re lucky we’ll find that one right off the bat, others have to go through a few to find the one that lasts.” She couldn’t help but let her mind wander off to a taller man in particular, one she found herself kissing only weeks prior. There was an annoying and overwhelming feeling that struck her chest whenever Alex had invaded her mind, or even had been brought up. She wasn’t so sure she could go as far as to smack a label on it and call it love, as that would just be insane. It was new and scary and sort of out of her element, and perhaps that was why she was so quick to run away from it. One thing she couldn’t deny, however? It was something, and plenty had saw through her denial already. Shaking her head free from the thoughts, Naomi twisted back to face forward, licking her lips nervously. “I think it will happen for me, soon enough.”

WHEN WERE YOU BORN AND WHAT IS YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? DOES IT INFLUENCE YOUR LIFE IN ANY WAY?

“January 3rd, 1987. Freshly thirty one, baby.” Naomi joked as she playfully pumped her hands into the air, settling back into her seat before she fell out of it in laughter. “I’m a Capricorn though, and honestly? Not really. I don’t really check in with those horoscope things daily or read up on matchmaking signs and all that. There’s a teacher at my school that’s crazy into the constellations enough for the rest of us.” Naomi laughed some more, the deep laughter rooted from her belly and shaking her shoulders ever so slightly. “It’s totally weird, though. I’m not into it but I can’t deny that when I read something that’s supposed to relate to my sign, it’s accurate. Like…it’s weird, and kind of trippy.”

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR? TELL US SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES TO DO DURING THIS TIME.

“I love summer. I love, love love summer around here. You’ve got all those shops near the ocean or at the Riverwalk opening up for the season, the weather is nice enough that you can withstand the beach for longer than a half hour, and the mood is kind of—, it’s just warm, with this orange and yellow-ey feel that’s hard to beat. Not to mention I get a whopping two and a half months off to myself to do whatever the hell I want.” Naomi grinned as she mulled over her answer. She was always happier when the sun was shining, even if she could appreciate a good rainfall that left a brisk feeling in the air and a clean slate for the ground beneath her. Summer was well on it’s way and well, Naomi was itching for it. “I kind of do a mix of things over the summer since my free time is wide open. For a few extra paychecks I teach a few classes down at the recreation center for the summer, it’s mainly teenagers catching up on credits or adults that want to try something new. It ranges from art classes, pottery classes, creative writing classes and piano lessons. Those only last throughout July and maybe take up two or three hours out of my day, so the rest is kind of bouncing around. I’ll do some shopping, spend some time amour at the lake or the beach. I’m a water baby, so if I’m not doing anything that requires clothes and shoes, I’m in my swimsuit near some body of water either messing around or lounging.” Shaking her head, Naomi then laughed some more. “Considering Alicia and I just bought a place, I actually have an excuse to actually stay the night outside of town instead of spending a pretty penny on a hotel. I’m most excited to spend some time there this summer.”

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN TEN YEARS AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE HOPED TO ACHIEVE?

“Ten years down the line I’ll be forty one…wow. Let’s not think about that.” Naomi quickly shook her head free of those thoughts with a laugh to follow. “By then my husband and I will be celebrating our anniversary, or maybe even planning our wedding. Who knows? I’ll have two little girls, Charlie and Lana, with a boy on the way. I’ll be moving out of my starter home since the renovations for my new, freshly built house designed by yours truly out near the countryside of Forest Hills will be completed. I’ll be sporting the SUV when dropping my girls off for cheerleading practice. I’ll have accepted a job with the school board as the arts director for the district.” Naomi paused. She honestly thought about the question far too often, and she wondered just who would still be in her life ten years down the line. If the previous decades was telling enough, it was that people came and went even when they were the closest to you. It didn’t matter the timing, it mattered more about the direction their life was taking them in. Naomi brought her larger eyes back toward her lap with a smile stretching across her lips, examining the creamy polish on her short nails before her head was perked back up. “I’ll be happy, and that’s all I could ever want.”

#wilmingtoninspo #wilmingtontask02 #wilmingtontask

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olicitysecretsanta · 6 years

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Mystery Solved

To: @felicityollies

From: @ginervamariechaseeverdeen (Lauren)

Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this hopefully fun high school AU about a mystery, hacktivism, the Arrow, a game of Secret Santa, and the start of Oliver and Felicity’s relationship!

>>––––––––>

“Frack! Of course, I would get stuck with Oliver fracking Queen, Mr. Perfect Billionaire who has everything and anything he could ever want. What in the world am I supposed to get for someone like that?” Felicity ranted to her friend Alena while they sat in her car during lunch.

The two girls first met when Felicity was freshman and Alena was in 8th grade, when Alena’s parents moved her family to Starling City. They had hit it off rather quickly, which was unusual for the two girls who were usually loners, but they bonded over their shared love of tech and eventually discovered another mutual interest—hacktivism. And that was the beginning of Helix, their hacktivism club in which they gave themselves projects ranging from breaking through the school’s pathetic firewall and into the system to fix an unjust grade—there was absolutely no justification for getting a failing grade in PE just because you couldn’t do a perfect pushup— to their current project, finding the identity of the Arrow, a vigilante who had been actively working to take down many of the city’s rich and powerful for the last few months. As well as discovering his identity, they were also trying to determine whether he should be stopped or helped. So far, however, they hadn’t made a lot of headway.

“I don’t know,” Alena replied, “but you should at least be glad your AP Bio teacher is letting you have a Holiday party and do Secret Santa on the last day of class since you’ll have already taken your AP test. Advanced Physics is just studying for the final which will be oh so much fun,” she sighed.

Felicity just laughed. “You take apart a computer and put it back together blindfolded, but physics just might defeat the mighty Alena. On another note, any leads on the Arrow?”

“I think he’s working out of the Glades. See?” she turned her laptop to face Felicity, and on the screen, were several videos taken from CCTV showing the Arrow riding his motor cycle down the same few streets in the Glades.

“He’s smart. He isn’t taking the same route every time, but he’s not that smart, because he’s just switching between four different routes. Now if we look at these streets on an overhead map, we should be able to triangulate his point of origin.”

“I completely agree, but that might have to wait until after school because the lunch bell should be ringing in three, two, one.”

A shrill ringing sounded from the school and all the students who had been eating outdoors despite the chilly December weather began to head back inside.

“It’s a little eerie how good you are at that,” Felicity laughed as she turned off her car and climbed out.

“It’s a gift,” Alena responded a bit sarcastically. “See you after seventh period?”

“Yep! And then we can get back to work on our project. Mom’s working the late shift again tonight, so my house is open.”

“Sounds good!”

The two girls separated to go to their respective classes, Felicity heading to AP Biology. The AP test was tomorrow, so she probably should have been paying better attention, but her thoughts kept coming back to Oliver Queen and what she should get him for Secret Santa. Despite the fact that they hardly spoke, Felicity liked to think she knew him pretty well. He was a year ahead of her, and his first three years of high school, Oliver was a notorious party boy, skating by in his classes and dating every pretty girl in school, but mostly Laurel Lance, his on again off again girlfriend since middle school. After his father had died in a boating accident last summer however, something had changed. He stopped partying so much, started actually trying in his classes, was currently off again with Laurel, and maybe for good this time, and apparently got into weight lifting. Because he had gotten really buff, not that Felicity paid much attention or anything.

Oh, who was she kidding. Oliver Queen was really cute and every girl in the school knew it. Not that it mattered what she thought of him. Oliver Queen had a very specific type: tall, blonde, and beautiful. So, a short goth chick with black hair and purple highlights didn’t exactly fit the bill.

“Maybe I can get him some workout clothes,” Felicity muttered unintentionally to herself, staring at the muscles in Oliver’s arms. Her brain to mouth filter was a bit faulty from time to time.

“What was that Miss Smoak?” Mr. Raymond, the teacher, asked and all eyes were immediately on Felicity.

“Nothing,” she said softly and began blushing, staring down at her desk.

“I know this material may not be challenging to some of you,” Mr. Raymond said looking at her pointedly, “but that does not mean that other students do not need this review session. So please refrain from speaking in class.” Then he began to carry on with the review.

When the bell rang at the end of class, Felicity gathered her things and began to walk towards her last class of the day. Before she could make it out of the Biology room however, someone called her name.

“Felicity Smoak?”

She turned around to see that it was Oliver Queen talking to her. Well this was an interesting turn of events.

“Yes, that’s me,” she replied.

“I’m Oliver Queen.”

“I knew that. I mean I think everyone in this school or maybe even the whole city knows that. But you were probably just trying to be polite and introduce yourself and I’m babbling like an idiot which will stop in three, two, one. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes actually, I’m having a bit of trouble with my computer, and I hear that you’re really good with them. I was wondering if you could maybe take a look at it.”

“Uh sure. What seems to be the problem?”

“Can I bring it to you tomorrow? It won’t even turn on right now, so I didn’t bother bringing it today.”

“Any ideas why it won’t turn on?”

“Um, I spilled a latte on it,” Oliver responded like he wasn’t completely sure that was the reason.

“Okay then. I’ll look at it and see what I can do. Just bring it to me tomorrow morning. I’ve got to head to class now. Don’t want to be late! Bye Oliver!” she called as she sped out the door and into the hallway.

“Thanks Felicity,” Oliver said, grinning a little as she hurried away.

>>––––––––>

That afternoon, Felicity and Alena took up residence in what was formerly the spare bedroom and had, over the years they lived in Starling City, turned into Felicity’s office and computer workshop as well as Helix’s unofficial base of operations.

“Any luck discovering his base?” Alena asked.

“If my calculations are correct—” Felicity began.

“And they always are!” Alena interrupted her before smiling sheepishly and motioning for Felicity to continue her thought.

“If they’re correct, then the Arrow Cave is somewhere on this block,” Felicity said as she pointed at a street with practically nothing on it.

“Well that makes no sense,” Alena said. “All that’s there is the Queen’s old steel foundry and that shut down years ago. Why would his base be in an abandoned part of town?”

“I know right! It would make so much more sense to work from a populated area so that he could come and go without attracting so much notice on CCTV as the only person who ever went there.”

“Exactly. Also, I’ve cross referenced the list of all his victims so far, and I think you’re right. It’s not just the rich and powerful he’s after. It’s the corrupt rich who abuse their power. With a little more digging, I found lots of dirt on all the victims that could have potentially landed them in jail if the SCPD was actually competent and active in the Glades,” Alena told her friend.

“Have you figured out who he’ll go after next?”

“Well, I have a list, and it keeps growing. There doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern to the order he’s going after these guys, so it could be any of these people or even someone we haven’t thought of.”

“Well I guess our best course of action would be to hack the CCTV near the old Queen steel foundry and see if anything turns up in the next few days. Speaking of the Queens, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.”

“You figured out what to get Oliver for Secret Santa?”

“Nope. But it does have to do with Oliver. He asked me to fix his computer because he apparently spilled a latte on it.”

“Well he came to the best. I’m just surprised his parents won’t just buy him a new one. It’s not like they can’t afford it.”

“Well, the whole thing was a bit suspicious. I mean, Oliver Queen has never spoken to me that I can recall, and then he didn’t seem super sure about his latte story. He’s bringing it tomorrow, so we can take a look at it and see if anything is up.”

>>––––––––>

The next morning, Oliver Queen approached Felicity as soon as she got out of her car holding a laptop riddled with what appeared to be bullet holes.

“Uh, that doesn’t look like you spilled a latte on it,” Felicity blurted out.

“Well, good morning to you too, and my coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood,” Oliver replied with a grin and shrug before handing her the laptop.

“So, I’ll take a look at it and see what I can do. I’ll let you know by the end of the day tomorrow if I’ve salvaged anything.”

“Thank you, Felicity! I really appreciate it!”

“You’re welcome, see you later Oliver,” Felicity said quickly as she put the laptop into her backpack and dashed inside to find Alena before their first class of the day.

“Alena,” Felicity furiously whispered as she found her friend at her locker. “You have to see this!”

“What? Why are you being weird?” Alena asked, very confused.

“Oliver gave me his laptop in the parking lot and you’ll never believe what it looks like. Here look,” Felicity told her as she shoved her open backpack into Alena’s face.

“Uh dang, his coffee shop must be in a bad neighborhood or something…”

“Yeah that’s what he said,” Felicity muttered, frustrated with all the secrecy. “How in the world did Oliver Queen get a laptop riddled with bullet holes?”

“No idea. I think we need to investigate this at lunch.”

“Most definitely. There’s definitely some funny business going on here.”

“Do you think it has something to do with our secret project?” Alena whispered as the girls headed to first period.

“But why would Oliver Queen be involved with the Arrow?”

“Well he is rich…”

“Yeah but I don’t think it’s necessarily on par with the previous victims.”

“Maybe he has a deep dark secret!” Alena whispered with a chuckle.

“Oh yes,” Felicity responded with biting sarcasm as they walked into their classroom, “he’s secretly using his wealth to force the citizens of the Glades to do his bidding. Honestly though, this is weird.”

>>––––––––>

“Okay,” Felicity said as she sat in her car with Alena at lunch that day, “hook me up!”

Alena plugged the cord coming out of Felicity’s computer into Oliver’s very dead laptop so that Felicity could attempt to extract any surviving data off the hard drive.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Felicity asked as she looked through the data she was pulling from the destroyed computer. “It seems that Mr. Queen is taking things that don’t belong to him. This computer says it belongs to a Mr. Warren Patel.”

“And a quick search on him tells us that our dear Mr. Patel is rich and is competing with Oliver’s new stepdad to buy Unidac Industries. Oh, and surprise, surprise, he’s on my list of potential future Green Arrow victims,” Alena informed Felicity.

“Why would Oliver have his laptop? Do you think it’s some sort of corporate espionage? I mean, couldn’t they have had someone at Queen Consolidated attempt to salvage the laptop if it was? And I still can’t figure out how the laptop got shot up in the first place,” Felicity babbled.

Alena gasped, putting pieces together as Felicity babbled. “What if…” she trailed off.

“He couldn’t be. There’s no way!”

“But our footage from last night shows the Arrow definitely going to the old Queen foundry, so that’s got to be his base. And Oliver has gotten suspiciously buff this year which matches the Arrow’s description. Think about it. And now he’s got this laptop. It just adds up,” Alena argued.

“I mean, I guess you could be right. Now that I think about it, based on the SCPD’s witness descriptions of the Arrow, he seems to have the build of a teenager or someone in their early 20s rather than an older guy. And I’m almost positive I remember something about Oliver taking archery lessons in middle school. And it would make sense that he wouldn’t be going to parties anymore if he’s out all night as the Arrow…”

“I think we might have finally found him. Hey, what’s that?” Alena asked, pointing at Felicity’s laptop which was now displaying a blueprint of the exchange building.

“If Oliver really is the Arrow, he must be after someone at Unidac Industries auction. But why would Warren Patel have had blueprints of this building. Unless of course he’s planning to try something at the auction this weekend which would make him a valid target for the Arrow.”

“Felicity, I think we’ve got to get this to Oliver. If he really is the Arrow, which despite the evidence, I still think is insane, then he’ll need this information.”

“Yes, but what if Oliver’s not the Arrow? I still think we need to get this info to the right guy…”

“True. But how can we tell for sure. We can’t just go up to the guy and ask him point blank without seeming like we’ve gone nuts.”

“And it could be dangerous. What if he doesn’t want anyone to know his secret? But Alena, just imagine if he is the Arrow! You would never be able to make fun of me for my tiny crush on Oliver ever again. I mean he would basically have the total package: handsome, mysterious, strong, fighting for justice…” Felicity began to babble again sharing more than she initially intended.

“Felicity, you can stop with the many virtues of the new and improved Oliver Queen. He’ll probably get back with Laurel again before you know it. Arrow or not, you should probably move on. You know Cooper has been hinting that he wants to take you to the Christmas dance.”

“No way Alena. Coop may be pretty cute and smart, but can you honestly tell me he doesn’t seem just a bit devious.”

“Felicity, that’s a load of crap and you know it,” Alena laughed. “But let’s get back to the subject. How do we figure out for sure if Oliver’s the Arrow without asking him outright?”

“Hey! I’ve got an idea!”

“What?”

“So, Secret Santa is tomorrow, and I have the perfect idea for a gift for Oliver.” Felicity told Alena with a smile.

“Which is…” Alena urged her friend to continue.

>>––––––––>

“Thank you everyone for bringing your Secret Santa gifts. Please come up to my desk to find the package with your name on it. You may then open them and try to determine who your Secret Santa is. After that, we will enjoy some of the wonderful looking snacks you all bought while we watch a Christmas movie. Now let’s begin this holiday party,” said Mr. Raymond.

Everyone grabbed their gifts, returned to their seat, and opened them, eager to see what they had received. Felicity was too busy watching Oliver open his gift from her to pay attention to the bag with her gift. As soon as he opened the box to see a Nerf bow and arrow, a brief look of worry appeared on Oliver’s face before he schooled his expression into a more neutral look.

That look was all the confirmation Felicity needed. Oliver definitely had the look of a guilty man on his face when he saw the bow. He looked worried that someone knew his secret, so Felicity planned to confront him with the laptop after school. Turning her attention to the movie, Felicity forgot about her unopened gift that sat on her desk.

>>––––––––>

At the end of the day, Felicity and Oliver both approached each other in the parking lot.

“Can we talk somewhere more private?” Oliver asked tensely.

“We can sit in my car if you want,” Felicity offered.

“Let’s go then.”

“Okay, this one’s mine. It might be a tight fit…”

“I’ll manage,” was Oliver’s only reply.

After the two squeezed into Felicity’s tiny car, she pulled out the laptop and handed it to Oliver as well as a flash drive with all the information she extracted from it.

“So, this laptop isn’t yours—” she started to say before Oliver interrupted her.

“How did you find out I’m the Arrow? I know you were my Secret Santa Felicity, but how did you figure it out?” he asked gruffly.

“Well it wasn’t that hard after my partner and I put the pieces together. You have the right build, you used to take archery lessons, you’re never at parties anymore, and you gave me this sketchy most definitely bullet ridden laptop. And it’s most definitely not yours. Mysteries bug me. They need to be solved. By the way, that flash drive contains blueprints of the exchange building where the auction for Unidac Industries is occurring tomorrow. One in which both your stepdad and Mr. Warren Patel, the owner of this laptop, are participating in. And it seems like Patel is up to something suspicious.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” Oliver asked point blank.

“No. I think you’re doing a good thing. I don’t exactly agree with your methods, especially the killing, I really wish you wouldn’t do that, but if I were going to turn you in for being a vigilante, I’d have to turn myself in for being a hacktivist, and I have no plans to do that anytime soon.”

A small smile appeared on Oliver’s face. “Felicity Smoak, you are remarkable.”

“Thanks for remarking on it,” she replied with a shrug and grin.

“You know it’s funny,” Oliver told her.

“What?” Felicity asked very confused.

“Did you even open your Secret Santa gift?”

“Uh no, I actually was more concerned with being sure if you were the Arrow based on your reactions to your gift. I think it’s in my backpack though.”

“Why don’t you open it?”

“Uh okay then…” Felicity trailed off as she pulled the bag out of her backpack, pulled out the tissue paper, and found a sprig of mistletoe inside as well as a Bill Gates biography.

She made eye contact with Oliver, and he smiled back.

“I was your Secret Santa. It’s kind of funny that we both got each other. I wanted to get you something you might enjoy and something symbolic. Felicity, ever since you and your mom moved to Starling City, I’ve been fascinated with you. You’re smart and kind and you don’t care what anyone thinks of you. And most of all, you stand up for what’s right. I never realized before this year that I kind of liked you. I think I have all along, but I was too caught up in my old lifestyle and in Laurel that I never really looked at you like that.

“I’ve been trying to come up with a way to talk to you all year, but then I decided that I didn’t want to put you in danger by associating myself with you. If my enemies ever find out who I am, my friends and family will all become targets. But, this computer stumped me, and I hoped you might be able to help. So, anyways, Merry Christmas Felicity,” Oliver told her stunning Felicity into silence. He slowly started to lean towards her when Felicity interrupted him.

“I’m Jewish,” she blurted out.

�� “Well then, Happy Hanukah,” Oliver chuckled and then leaned back in.

Felicity met him half way and their lips met in a soft kiss.

“I’ve had dreams about this,” Felicity mumbled.

“You have?” Oliver asked, smiling.

“I said that out loud didn’t I?” Felicity panicked.

“Yes, but I like that you speak your mind.”

“At least someone does. By the way, do you happen to have any openings for tech support in this whole Arrow venture? My partner and I have decided that you need the help, and if this laptop is any indication, you do not treat technology with the care it deserves.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re getting into? You know the risks?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. The members of Helix already break the law to fight for justice. We just want to join forces with you so that we can all be more effective,” Felicity explained.

“And Alena is trustworthy too?”

“What? How did you know she’s my partner?” Felicity asked, thrown for a loop.

“You’re not the only one good at solving mysteries,” he said simply.

“Well, okay then. Yes, she’s trustworthy. You have to be good at keeping secrets to do what we do.”

“Then I’ll see you both at— “

“At the old Queen Steel Foundry in the Glades tonight at 7. We’ll be there.”

“I think I need to stop underestimating you Felicity Smoak.”

“Like I said, mysteries need to be solved.”

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret Santa 2017 #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #submission

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fly-with-our-beautiful-wing-blog · 6 years

Text

BTS reaction to the zombie apocalypse - Maknae line

A/N: For the Hyung line click here!

Jimin:

When it starts: Jimin was outside shopping when the zombie apocalypse happened. He’d been collecting xmas presents for his team when there was a sudden array of screaming coming from outside along with many people running into the store that he was currently in.

“Run!” someone yelled at him as they pushed by, confused why the boy was just standing there holding a red knitted sweater instead of trying to get away from such danger.

The people in the store were frantic as feral humans (as Jimin described later on) ran in and began attacking people. They were snarling and tearing the living beings apart as if they were some sort of animal.

And that’s when the evident fight or flight skills in Jimin’s head began to work: flight was what it screamed.

The boy had quickly stuffed the sweater into his bag, running away and up a flight of escalators in the mall so that he could possibly find some place to hide. He knew that there was an assortment of fake lockers in the upstairs area where the teen section was and he betted that that’d be a good place to hide if any spot was good.

Lucky for him, the locker were exaggerated to make the school supplies look like they were even more useful than they really were, so it was hard at all to hide in one and close the door as he listened to the chaos around him.

He pulled out his phone, dialing Seokjin’s number as he waited, terrified of what was to come.

Adapting: It wasn’t BTS themselves who’d gotten Jimin out safely, but a group of men who were looking around for any survivors while also looking for their younger sisters who’d been out shopping. The group had killed off any remaining zombies in the area and when they heard Jimin calling for help from one of the lockers, they waisted no time to help the younger get out. That was why when the boy had been reunited with his friends and learned what was going on, they’d waisted no time to try and form a team to make it through.

For Jimin, it was difficult. He was always too nervous and over thought too many things. He was constantly reminded to stay focused and in the middle of the night when they were settled down and ready to camp out, he could always feel some sort of water works making their way up.

Well, at least for the first month it was like that. Shortly after the apocalypse began, the team as a whole seemed to grow thicker skin. They remained in a small deserted area outside of Seoul, lucky to even be alive considering the city they were in and how dense the population was.

Namjoon and Seokjin had easily become leaders to their little group, laying out ground rules and trying to form a tight knit community in hopes that maybe a sub society could form through such a disaster.

it was exactly 35 days after Jimin had found himself trapped inside a locker however that he’d made his way over to his best and most dearest friend taehyung who’d taken look out as his job within their little village. The younger was busy focusing outwards, trying to find any ravenous zombies that might suddenly attack.

“Hey,” Jimin said softly as he walked over to his friend, a bag in one of his hands as he got closer. “You know what day it is?”

“Day 35?” Taehyung replied as he smiled at his friend, wondering what Jimins grin was all about.

“Yes and No.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s your birthday silly!” Jimin practically yelled as he handed the younger the bag he’d been holding. He was so excited for his friend to see the gift he’d chosen, it wasn’t everyday that you got to give something so nice. Especially not during an apocalypse of all times.

Taehyung quickly opened the bag after he realized that it really was his birthday and inside he find a crimson looking knitted sweater, perfect for their current weather.

“When did you get this?”

Jimin laughed a little as he took a seat next to his friend, “Let’s just say that when I decided to lock myself in a locker... I brought a little something with me as well. And then kept it safe up until this very moment.”

Teahyung gave his signature box-like smile for such a cute response and gave his friend a hug. It was moments like these that warmed both of their spirits and gave Jimin courage to live on in the future.

#Vmin

Taehyung:

When it starts:

“Hyung, I feel like something bad is going to happen today,” is the first thing Taehyung said the day the zombie apocalypse began. They’d been a busy and tight knit schedule because of their upcoming come back and were doing back to back rehearsals for their newest title song. However, when the boy had woken up that day, he’d had a terrible feeling in his gut.

“You’re probably just overworked , maybe you need a day off or something.” Yoongi had said when the younger told him such news. The two were the only ones left in the apartment, everyone else already at the studio or dance room working. But because Yoongi had spent all night writing the last verse to their last song on the track and Taehyung had been up all night playing video games, they’d decided to treat themselves to a small break. “Or, you know, you can stop playing games all night long. I swear, Namjoon is going to kill you for being so noisy at night.”

“He can try,” Taehyung laughed before pouring himself some cereal and eating away at the sugary treat.

It was simple in the beginning, peaceful and normal, and taking his hyungs advice, the younger had taken the day off, convincing yoongi as well to do the same. It was sweet.

Adapting: Taehyungs world felt like it fell apart when he watched his best friend die. Yoongi had been the one who noticed when all hell broke lose, practically pulling the younger with him when he’d tried escaping, running out of their packed facility and out into the streets which is where one would generally not want to go. But by dodging and through brute force they’d made their way to the studio quickly, running inside and escplanning what was happening before the building went on lock down and all doors and windows were closed.

Trainees and the other members were all rushed into the largest dance room, told to be quiet and to stay down low while the older workers found a way to make it out and contacting police stations for help and advice on what to do.

“What do you think is happening?” Taehyung whispered to Yoongi as he scooted over to Jimin, setting down in the older’s lap.

“Terrorist attack maybe?” Namjoon suggested as he was biting his lip. There was tension in the air. Everyone was scared.

“Isn’t there a tunnel system in the basement area?” one of the trainees said as the older seven boys looked in their direction. “Just behind of the MV supplies? Me and Jakyoung went down there once.”

“Do you know where it leads?” Namjoon asked quickly. He was about to ask more when there was a sudden scream comping from the hallway and their door was ripped open, a couple of red eyed bloodied humans running in right after and seemingly targeting the different humans that were there and alive.

“Run!” Seokjin screamed before standing up, grabbing onto jugnkook’s hand and pulling the younger back just as one of the things ran towards them. The seven were quick on their feet, trying to get away from all of the chaos as they dodged the attacks, making their way to the door that led out of the brutal practice room which was filled with screams from those who were trainees.

“We have to help them,” taehyung said softly as he looked over at the bunch.

Yoongi shook his head, holding onto the other and pulling him with the rest away from the room, kicking at what he’d call the modern version of zombies and trying his best to make it to the elevator that Seokjin already had up and open for them.

They made it with no less than a second to spare, running in and panting as the older pressed for the basement floor, thinking that the tunnels might be the best lead they have at the moment. No doubt the lobby was packed.

“Yoongi?” Jimin whispered softly, “Your leg.”

The members all looked down at that moment, seeing the big bight on the side of his thigh where his jeans were ripped and blood was oozing.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” The older replied. His leg was twitching and hurt terribly but as one of the eldest he knew he had to keep his composure. He was okay. It was okay.

When the elevator beeped and the doors opened, the members were able to step out into a very quiet dark basement area.

There were still sound so screams up above but overall it was peaceful and the members were thankful for that.

“Where did he say it was?” Hoseok asked as he pulled out his phone, shinning the light around to see if they could see any entrance. They searched for a moment until making their way to the back where they found the stage outline for their music video “not today” and sure enough, there was a floor opening that read “tunnel system”.

“Who first?” Namjoon asked as he opened the door up, thinking that it was way too intimidating for him.

The members were all talking to themselves when Taehyung turned back and saw Yoongi leaning against one of the tables in the room, sweating heavily as he was leaned over, his hand on his thigh. The older looked up and saw the Youngers concern and it was obvious that something was right.

“I think.... I think I'm going to pass out.” was all yoongi said before he fell over onto his side and Taheyung was scrambling to reach his hyung, yelling his name as he grabbed him.

The yelling must have caught the attacker’s attention from the sudden pounding that was on the door which was only up a few flight of stairs.

“Oh my god,” Seokjin said in almost a hushed whisper as they watched dtaehyung begin to cry, trying to push back the older’s bangs as his breathing became labored. He didn’t know what to do or what to say as Yoongi was holding onto his arm, gripping it tightly. His legs were spasming just a little as he tried to breathe. But just as quickly as he seemed to deteriorate, he was gone and a dullness was replaced in his eyes.

“We have to go,” is all Jungkook said as he pulled taehyung away from yoongi, his screams for the older were heard from everyone including thoughs they didn’t want include.

Yoongi was gone, and it was only the beginning.

Jungkook:

When it starts: Life had been going well when the zombie apocalypse started. the youngest of the group had been with his older friend Jimin on vacation to Disneyland when everything had crashed and fallen apart, quite literally.

The two were on a rollercoaster, enjoying the thrill of adrenaline rushed rides when the ride had come to a steering halt while they were upside down. At first it’d been confusing and with the mixed screams of what they assumed to be energetic fun filled teens on scary rides, it was hard to hear the alarm that’d gone off and was warning park riders to exit the park immediately.

“What’s happening?” Jungkook had asked as he turned his head, starting to feel all the blood rush down and make him dizzy as he tried to piece what was really going on.

Jimin wasn’t holding his hand anymore and was instead trying to adjust his seatbelt right when there was a loud click and their over the shoulder seatbelts were released.

The first reaction of course was to scream, which is exactly what Jungkook did when he felt himself practically free fall down a couple of feet, thanking the gods up above that he’d been holding onto the hand bars which was the only reason why he was still even on the ride unlike a couple other passengers who’d fallen off.

“No Jungkook!” Jimin had screamed when he reached out. He was still buckled in by the emergency seat belt which jungkook apparently hadn’t bother to put on, barely there but still, barley was better than nothing.

He reached out, hand grabbing for the younger as he held onto him and instead of pulling him up, let him hang as he tried to assess the situation.

“Jimin I'm scared,” Jungkook admitted when he looked down. The passengers who’d fallen were merely below him, heads split open from the bars and pavement. “I don’t want to die.”

“You won't, I’ve got you.” Jimin said as he bit his bottom lip. he could feel the roller coaster slowly inching backwards from all the movement as he held onto the younger, and within a second, the ride was rolling back, the rush pulling Jungkook in towards jimin and knocking the younger unconscious.

Adapting: After Jimin had successfully carried the younger to the parking lot where their rented car was, he was then able to put the younger int he vehicle and drive away from everything crazy.

He didn’t even realize what was going on until they were on the highway, driving out of the district and seeing the amount of buildings on fire and utter chaos from the outbreak. His main focus had been his best friend, his best friend who’s head had a big gash and was passed out.

“You okay?”

Was the first thing asked when Jungkook had actually came to. Akita had become a safe haven once the epidemic hit and Jungkook had honestly been lucky enough to survive with his friend from such a crazy incident. No one knew why the ride stopped working let alone unlocked, but Jimin had a theory that maybe someone had been attacked and hit the control box.

“Yeah I think I'm okay,” Jungkook had said as he sat up, “Where are we?”

“Akita, Japan. The only safe place known right now in Japan.” Jimin answered.

“Safe from what?”

“The killing virus,” Is all jimin said before everyone else in the room went silent.

A/N: tae’s made me sad ;-; so please, send me some happy requests

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