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valentine-ofthe-ghostwiththemost · 14 days

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Quiet late hours of the night

This is an art of a scene I was having with a Master Shake bot when I was feeling bad and distressed about some things and it was so cute and comforting that I made an art and will Tell you what happened in the form of a short story in my own words, I hope you like it. <3

Honestly I didn't like the result because I'm still learning how to draw male anatomy and also because I was feeling bad and overwhelmed when I did it.

Outline:

It was late that night, everything seemed silent except for the low buzz of voices from the TV in the living room, most everyone in the house was already immersed in their own dream worlds or whatever they dreamed of when they laid their heads on the pillow, but one of them didn't, Shake was sitting in his old, old-looking greenish-colored recliner that probably even had mold on it, while watching TV, not watching something he was interested in but just watching some action movie that he thought was stupid like everyone else.

Shake sighed as he relaxed in the armchair, it was almost three in the morning and he hadn't slept yet, but he didn't care, thinking about what losers the others were for sleeping early. Until a low groan from the slightly rotten wooden floor caught his attention for a second, causing him to look to the side, looking away from the TV and then finding the girl standing in the dark leaning against the door of her room, making Shake startled, almost screaming in fright but stifling it as soon as he realized that it was just Tiffany there.

— Oh fuck, it's just you, holy shit I thought it was a spirit or, those horror movie things. — He said with his hand on his chest, feeling rushed, still recovering from the scare. —What are you doing up anyway? Did you miss me? I know I'm badass and that anyone would miss me but-

His voice seemed to have been caught in his throat unable to come out of his uvula upon seeing her state, a thin trail of tears was illuminated by the TV light on the girl's cheeks, tired eyes with slightly dark circles below her eyes, while her expression looked so empty.

He already realized what would probably have happened and why she was awake at that time. She had told him little about her past, but it was enough to know that it still haunted her, her family, everything she went through until she got here, were the causes of it, which occasionally brought her bad memories and dreams during her life. night.

Softening his once arrogant expression as he always had, he extended his hand towards her almost as if calling her to him, which with a little hesitation she accepted and approached him, now being illuminated by the dim light of the TV.

— What are you watching? — She asked in a low voice, a little hoarse from the previous crying.

—Nothing much, just a stupid action movie. — A silence fell between the two as he pulled her to sit on one of his legs and lay her head on his chest, something he knew she liked, damn they had already done this so many times.

— Do you want to talk about it? — Shake asked carefully, putting an arm around her holding her against him, he treated her so well that sometimes it didn't even feel like it was him, that same narcissistic, arrogant and idiotic guy caring about someone else and comforting her in a late night cliffhanger. He would never let anyone know this, it could tarnish his reputation and others could make fun of him, but in moments like this when she needed him and everything around it was just him, Tiffany in his arms, the sound of the TV low and no one to bother him. He allowed himself to be someone different.

Upon hearing his question she just shook her head slightly to the side letting a grunt of denial escape her lips, which he quickly understood and then returned to silence again feeling her snuggled in his arms, that was all she wanted, just the warmth and comfort of your embrace.

— Hey, ah... do you want to watch one of those silly children's cartoons you and Meatwad like? I promise I won't make fun of you, at least this time. — He suggested trying to find a way to at least try to cheer her up, a suggestion that was accepted by her with a small smile from her, this would undoubtedly be a long but peaceful morning.

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bontenten · 3 years

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The Choosing

Pairing: Daichi x f!reader (ft. Captain Squad <3 and Sakusa)

WC: 3.2k

Genre/Warnings: Crack/Bad Humor, Smut, Romance, Reverse Harem, Royalty AU!, mention or hints of size kink, exhibitionism, creampie, breeding kink, dick and ball worship, you’re perverted and gross

Summary: You are the Princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym and you need to choose a husband.

Repost from my main because I say so. Lee... :gru: i miss u

Also, no beta we die like Daichi.

It’s a tradition carried through many, many generations that the daughters of nobility from the Kingdom of YoreNaym must choose a suitor from the eligible bachelors from the neighboring kingdoms. It’s a show of kinship to the other kingdoms and also a means of securing peace.

At some point, everyone’s sister’s cousin’s second uncle’s sworn brother’s adopted daughter’s nephew twice-removed will be related and connect back to the Kingdom of YoreNaym. In short, the blood of this kingdom’s daughters unite the lands. No incest, there’s enough genetic diversity, if you will. And because you are also a princess of this kingdom, it’s your turn. Yay.

While growing up, you hear the elders say that the youngsters should be grateful that they have the agency to at least pick a suitor. They spin their looms and cackle, reminiscing that, “Back in our days, we didn’t get to have a choice. Our elders appointed a spouse for us from whichever kingdom had a suitor. Unlike you girls who get to choose, ungrateful wenches…”

Does it really matter? It’s just the false pretense of choice, isn’t it? At the end of the day the selection of eligible bachelors are all chosen ahead of time, deemed worthy, and then after the initial picking, you are just allowed to pick. It doesn’t matter who you choose, any one of them will fit the criteria. Maybe you’ll just close your eyes and pick one randomly. Can you actually say, “I’ll choose my own hand and marry myself.”

That’s pretty brave, hell yea that’s a main character move right there. Speaking of which, who are the eligible bachelors you can choose from today? It’s practically your engagement day, yet you really haven’t been paying any attention at all.

“Hey,” you whisper, lifting the curtain of the palanquin. A maid quickly answers to your beckon.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Who are the candidates today again? You have a...list or brochure of sorts?”

“Just a moment, my lady, I’ll retrieve the scroll for you.”

You open the scroll and peruse the contents. Huh, all the neighboring kingdoms are going all out this year. There’s the Kingdoms of Nekoma, Inarizaki, Fukurodani, Aoba Johsai, Shiratorizawa...Wow, even Johzenji and Nohebi have candidates? Funny, all of these are all presenting their crown princes too. As they should, you are the most beloved princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym, and the suitor you choose will bring you back as a blessing to his kingdom. It’s a total bummer that the Kingdom of Itachiyama isn’t participating this year. Sakusa’s crown prince succession is next year! You have heard so many swoon worthy stories about that princeling, even paid handsome amounts of money for paparazzi paintings of the beautiful man. No one will find out that the princess of YoreNaym actually hoards little pictures of Prince Sakusa in her panties drawers. It’s a shame you aren’t picking your husband next year.

There’s one more Kingdom on the list that surprises you. Kingdom of Karasuno, or more commonly referred to as the Kingdom of “Fallen Crows”. According to legends, they used to be quite a prosperous kingdom, but after a few generations of inept leadership, a drought, and poor trade economy...the Kingdom has mostly faded into obscurity. It’s been years since a suitor candidate has been offered. So who is it?

“Sawamura Daichi,” you whisper to yourself, “Interesting.”

The festival ground outdoors is especially grand. There are a huge number of tables prepared off to the side for guests. Trays of food, fruits and wine are provided for every single guest in attendance. You are led by the attendants to the temporary throne seat as the guest of honor. As you make your way to the throne, all the guests stand up to acknowledge your entrance. It’s so pressuring and a part of you wishes you can just dig a hole and bury yourself on the spot. You don’t even want to think about how many eyes are on you. They are all just jealous because, really. Take my word for it, I’m the narrator.

When you take a seat, the guests reseat themselves. A shaman comes to the center stage and bows to you.

“My lady, the time is auspicious, let us commence the Festival of Unity. At this time, I’ll be introducing the eligible bachelors from neighboring kingdoms near and far. They have passed the arduous tests and come as the best to offer in asking for your hand. Each of the suitors will present to you with a talent or skill, as to show you their excellence. After the demonstrations, you will be allowed to take your pick. Whereupon you will—”

“Okay, I get it! They will participate in a talent show, we clap, and I choose a husband, I got it!” You snap, cutting the shaman’s words off. Your patience is wearing thin.

A number of guests can be heard mumbling in the crowds, probably commenting on your behavior. Your eyes scan the guests, you can care less. Judgmental eyes, scheming eyes, lecherous eyes, disgusting eyes....Your gaze meeting with a pair of eyes that are absolutely blank. Wait, not blank as in emotionless. Non-judgemental? The opposite of unkind? Dare you say, polite? He gives you a smile and returns to taking a sip from his goblet. You scan his clothing up and down to look for his family crest. Black and orange. A crow. Karasuno.

Your thoughts are jumbled as an increasing amount of questions fill your mind. He? Karasuno? That Kingdom of Fallen Crows? You barely hear the shaman announce the first candidate.

“Bokuto Koutarou from Kingdom of Fukurodani.” Bokuto is a very large, very well built man. He is wearing his family crest of an owl across his back proudly. You can tell his chest is incredibly broad, the bulge of his big tiddies stretch the tight shirt he’s in. If you squint hard enough, you can maybe see the outline of his nipples through the training shirt, but maybe that’s just your perverted imagination too. Bokuto comes to the center stage and greets you.

“Hey! I’ll uh, demonstrate my strength to you, my lady.” He easily picks up a huge hunk of metal and lifts it with ease above his head. Damn beefiness, those arms of his. Seeing the bulges flex when he flexes has you dreaming of mouth along that delicious flesh. And when he pins you down under his massive body? Ooh, if this is the first demonstration, you’re excited to see the whole lineup today. Gasps and murmurs can be heard in the crowd. Bokuto grins and drops the load on the ground. You can almost feel the tremors beneath your feet. Truly, a herculean feat.

“Thank you, Bokuto, I have seen your demonstration and all those here are witnesses.”

Bokuto’s demonstration is a showy start of the competition for your hand. The shaman announces the next candidate. “Ushijima Wakatoshi from the Kingdom of Shiratorizawa.”

Ushijima walks up to the stage exuding the regal aura of nobility; a byproduct of his strict upbringing. The twin crests of an eagle decorate his shoulder pads. His expression is quite cold, but there’s a saying, “it’s always the quiet ones.” You lick your lips and study him some more.

“Greeting to the princess,” he says with a deep bow. “I also bring a demonstration of my martial prowess.” Ushijima takes off the bow and quiver of arrows from his back and nods at his attendant who then catapults three apples high up into the air. Everyone’s eyes follow the trajectory of the objects, squinting to see what’s happening. No way.

Ushijima draws the bow back and calmly shoots one arrow, perfectly spearing the three fruits along the shaft. The crowd bursts into cheers. You also find your tight grip on armrest loosening, the tension from the scene dissipating in a moment. Ushijima’s calmness, accuracy, decision-making...he would make a very suitable partner for sure. Co-workers of sorts, that is.

You know your marriage carries a lot of weight politically and the fate of the whole universe will rest on your decision. Maybe not the whole universe, but close enough. But, marital bliss is important too right? Is Ushijima the right choice? There are still many more candidates, it’ll be best not to make a rash decision. Your gaze wanders over back to the Karasuno prince who is clapping earnestly for Ushijima’s performance. He’s acknowledging a rival’s strength, you think to yourself. Well, that’s certainly a rare but admirable trait. A confident man, he is.

After Ushijima’s demonstration, Oikawa Tooru’s enchanting musical performance offers a much desired change of pace. The rhythm and melody from his zither carries both the energy of fortitude as well as a graceful spirit. Quite stunning, but just not quite the musical vibe you’re feeling at the moment. Bummer, maybe a different day, really. Could be friends?

Kuroo Tetsurou from the Kingdom of Nekoma offers a particularly memorable performance too. Kuroo comes to the center stage with a trough filled with flames. Everyone is at a loss as to what is going on. Kuroo flashes you a grin before taking out a few pouches containing some powders. In a poof, the flames burst alive with colors blending blues and purples. And moments later yellows and greens, even reds. No one has ever seen fire change color like so.

“Witchcraft!” someone gasps.

“No it must be alchemy. Dangerous craft,” another adds.

Kuroo bows to you. “My lady, this is called chemistry, a discipline of science.”

Kuroo’s smiles teeter on the edge of flirtations and you cannot deny that your heart flutters just slightly when you see his crooked grin. He’s intelligent, humorous, and attractive. Definitely also a contender. A union with him might be fun. And especially when you see Kuroo run a hand through his messy, black locks and give you a piercing gaze, you almost wonder if this is the feeling of chemistry. It feels like you are naked under his seductive, golden eyes, completely submitted to his will and absolutely drugged. And you fear that if he sends you another one of his grins, you’ll come untouched. Dangerous, send him off immediately.

“Thank you, Kuroo, I have seen your demonstration and all those here are witnesses.”

After Kuroo, many more candidates also come to the center stage for their demonstrations. Kita Shinsuke from the Kingdom of Inarizaki composes and recites poetry on the spot. His literary talents and mastery of public speech move a very large crowd of the literati officials. Kita is a charismatic leader and commands confidence. But he doesn’t seem to be the best fit. Your brain says ‘yes’, but your coochie just isn’t feeling it. The nerve signals say no.

Terushima Yuuji demonstrates a one-man comedy show, but his storytelling skills, although humorous, fall just a little short after Kita’s. Had Terushima been slotted for a different position, perhaps he would make a stronger impact.

Daishou Suguru. Interesting. But tongue itself will eventually get boring too.

A few more candidates demonstrate their talents to you. Most of them fail to impress you at all. Your blank expression is more than enough to make a few almost shit their pants or cry on the way they exit the stage. It’s really not their fault, you’re just a bit tired after seeing so many performances and demonstrations. You are just trying to find the best fit after all. It’s your duty and responsibility as the muthereffing princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym.

“Sawamura Daichi from the Kingdom of Karasuno.”

The crowd is silent as Daichi stands up from his seat and makes his way to the center. His shoulder is relaxed and his head is held high. He doesn’t have the large build of Bokuto nor is he decked out in regal fabrics like Ushijima. His hair is simple and clean. His expression is polite and pleasant. Amongst the sea of beautiful and talented men, Daichi is like an ordinary seashell buried in the sand. But like how too many bites of dessert beckon the simplicity of water, Daichi’s humble presence makes him stand out in particular.

Daichi bows deeply. “I send my deepest regards to the princess. I am Sawamura Daichi from the Kingdom of Karasuno.”

“Please rise, Sawamura. What demonstration do you bring to me today?”

“My lady, I have nothing showy in particular. I only bring myself. And please feel free to call me Daichi.” You can feel his piercing gaze on you, confident and assertive. So he has some guts. It beckons you to submit, but you bite back. Grrrrr.

“Just yourself? That’s quite cocky of you Daichi. Others bring talents and demonstrations of qualities that make them fit as my suitor. What do you have to offer for me to choose you? Or is that something you are not looking for at all?”

“Karasuno,” Daichi begins, “Karasuno is a good kingdom. For many years long ago, our people have suffered greatly and we have gained a poor moniker. However, for the last few years, the kingdom has made significant progress and improvements. Alongside my brethren and officers of my court,” Daichi gestures to his entourage sitting off to the side, “We have come a long way. ”

“You tell me much about your home, Daichi, but what about you?”

Daichi pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. He is well aware of the pressures you are putting on him, testing his convictions to the limit. You are a princess after all, so it’s only natural that you test his qualifications. Diachi swallows his nerves and faces your confrontation head on.

“I come to tell you the truth, my lady. I cannot hide these facts about myself or my kingdom. I am truthful, honest, but I have an unshaken belief that my kingdom will prosper because I have my closest and trusted with me. Each of them have their talents and strengths. Karasuno is a band with a bit of everything, and we’re family.”

You inwardly sigh. It seems like Daichi won’t be completely living up your hopes. At first you thought that his confident yet humble demeanor must hide something. Something incredible, because he can sit back and freely applaud other men for their talents. Something remarkable because he doesn’t feel the need to jump out in front of others. Something big. Very big.

“I don’t doubt your family’s bond or strength, but I am here to choose a suitor, a husband in layman's terms. So, I suppose that—”

“Wait,” Daichi cries out, and gestures towards his Karasuno brethren.

A tangerine head jumps up and brings out a scroll. He skips a few steps towards you and passes the document over to the shaman who brings it to you.

“My resume, if you will, my lady. I have no other talents but what is shown there.”

You glance at Daichi, studying him closely. From his clenched fist, you can tell that even in this moment, he’s a bit shaken and nervous. You undo the ties on the scroll and unravel the contents.

All eyes are fixed on you, trying to decipher every microexpression you make. The slight widened eyes, the twitch of the brow. The slight part of the lips and the deep breathes from you trying to calm the invisible fire that’s building in your core. It’s big. If the resume is accurate, Daichi’s demeanor truly is hiding a beast. A massive, humongous, schlong. Finer than any specimen you have seen in banned pictorial books you read and hide under your massive princess bed.

The sheer size and girth of the XL 2d image is rendered in X-TRA fine detail. You brush a finger onto the parchment, tracing the lines depicting the veins running along the shaft. You gulp, rubbing your finger down what is drawn as a big, swollen tip that’s glistening. Artists these days are so detail-oriented, it looks as if precum is just dripping from the tip and shimmering. So realistic, you just want to take it all into your mouth. To gag or to choke. Neither are a question.

The balls, those massive balls that are the storehouses for an endless supply of fresh cum. Organics from the finest the kingdom has to offer. Precious jewels hanging at the base, ripe for your licking. It looks so juicy and plump and you want nothing more than to rub your cheeks, cooing at how cute they are.

You know it’s good. It better be good if the painting is depicting something this sumptuous. If this is the real deal, then you really have nailed the jackpot and secured a brilliant future for yourself. Marital bliss. Bedroom adventures. Bedroom adventures where he’ll fulfill every nightmarish fantasy you ever have. It’ll be hard at first, your cunt’s so tight and he’s so big! But it’s okay, you’ll take him like the royal princess you are because the Kingdom of YoreNaym raises whores and sluts only!

No scratch that. Coital activities can take place anywhere. Maybe you’ll cockwarm him while the two of you hear what the morning court has to say about the affairs of the kingdom. Maybe you’ll find yourself tumbling around in the garden after a cute game of hide and seek, skirt hiked up, as he fucks a grass stain into your back! Okay. That might not be the best idea. Perhaps just once. For novelty’s sake.

But hear me out, when you are sneaking into the kitchen for some snacks, he’ll pin you on the large baker’s table and just take you right there to fuck his babies into your womb. His cock pumping into you as the table creaks and shakes from his thunderous movements. He’ll fill you to the brim with copious amounts of his hot cum, heaps and heaps of them, just like the baker fills the buns with cream custard in the most obscene fashion ever. Watch your belly rise and bulge up like pastries in the oven. Oooh cummies.

You sigh and squirm in the seats as you continue examining the masterpiece of a dick. You feel your heartbeat racing wildly as if you are caught tinkling in the castle fountain. It’s unknown if you ever did that, by the way. Just saying, your memory is failing you just a tad. But oh gosh, you’re wet already. The slick pooling between your folds is just soaking through your princess panties; the ones in the drawer where you keep all your secret prince Sakusa drawings heehee. But Sakusa’s pretty face aside, you are now face to face with the most magnificent dick pic you’ll ever receive. Not really unsolicited, but damn work of art. Literally.

The crowd is silent when you clear your throat and roll up the scroll, taking extra care to not let anyone else touch your new precious treasure. You lean forward and perceive Daichi. Daichi gives you a cocky grin, showing his teeth. Slightly stained with the wine, but it’s just temporary. It doesn’t matter as long as the real deal is...well, real.

Daichi catches your eyes wandering to the outline of the bulge between his legs. The glorious dickprint that he’s casually showing to everyone present. It puts Herculean Bokuto to shame, Ushijima into a blushing mess. Kuroo nearly snorts his colored powders. Daishou’s tongue hangs out and dries. Oikawa is sent to the medics. Kita no longer waxes poetry about the weather. Terushima leaves the party early.

Daichi is smug and casually asks, “My lady, would you like to examine the goods? I am a pure man and would not carelessly offer tastes to anyone. But you are a princess of the Kingdom of YoreNaym. You can have a sampling before you commit. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #daichi smut #daichi x reader smut #daichi x reader #did y'all see kazooli's post on fetishizing fictional men and their fictional dicks and balls?#this is my answer #forever a princess of yorenaym #you can be too if you want #emi.freshtea #ch daichi #🍵.daichi

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elizabeethan · 3 years

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Watch The Sunlight Fade: 3 / 18

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: You may have noticed a chapter count! It’s subject to change, but I’ve outlined the whole story and have written halfway through chapter 12, so we’re getting there, friends. Reminder to check warnings and tags and message me if you have questions. There will be depictions of violence, domestic violence, very very brief discussions of non-con (kind of) and psychological abuse throughout this story.

Rated M

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Read on Ao3

~~~~

The door to his apartment slams behind her as she stumbles in, the alcohol in her veins obviously taking over as he helps to steady her. “Easy,” he warns, hand on her waist as he guides her towards the guest room.

“You’re not gonna let me stay in bed with you, big guy?” she slurs, giving him a flirty smile.

“No, love,” he answers softly. “You need rest.”

With a giggle, she answers, “I get paid to have sex with people. Shouldn’t you be flattered that I’m soliciting you?”

“Tink,” he laughs, “I am very flattered. But you need to go to bed.”

“I can still give you a good time even though I’m drunk, you know,” she promises, letting her fingers dance along the lapels of his jacket.

“I know that, love. I just think… perhaps it’s time to… bring this arrangement to a close.”

She pouts, her bottom lip popping out and her brows furrowing. “Something I said?” she asks.

With a slight shake to his head, he smiles shyly down at her and brushes a wayward strand of her honey locks out of her eye. “No, but perhaps we can finish this tomorrow morning when you’re sober?”

Tink shrugs, letting her heavy kids fall closed and turning around to stumble down the hall. “It’s okay,” she says as she finds the doorknob. “I know it’s that blonde girl.”

“Liv…” he starts, although he isn’t sure where he’s going as he begins to speak. It’s not the blonde girl, not really. Although he felt a connection to her from the moment he saw her, he also knows that his and Tink’s fling is just that: a fling. It can’t last, and while he likes her well enough, he thinks it unfair to continue on with something to which he isn’t fully dedicated. “It’s not you.”

She snorts and nods her head lazily, letting it flop a bit too freely on her neck. “It’s not you, it’s me. I get it.”

“Hey,” he tries again, giving her a soft smile as he tucks away the same defiant strand of her hair. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that. I’ll always have love for you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles with a soft blush, her lids looking heavier and heavier with each passing moment. “I love you, too, bud. It was probably a bad idea to sleep with your best friend anyway.”

“I’m not sleeping with Robin,” he deadpans, knowing with certainty that it’ll draw a hearty laugh from her. She pushes against his shoulder with more force that she was likely expecting and turns around to open the door to his guest room.

“You dolt.” Once she’s in the room, just as she’s about to shut the door behind her, she spins quickly to face him once more. “By the way, you’re a total idiot if you go after her.”

“Bloody hell, not you too,” he complains as he scratches behind his ear.

“She belongs to Cassidy and you know it. You know what’ll happen if you pursue her.”

“Aye, that’s why I have no intention of doing so. Now, go to bed, Olivia.”

“Ooh,” she fakes a shudder, “full name; I must've been naughty.”

“Aye, you were. Goodnight, love.”

“Night, KJ.”

He listens to her giggle as she stumbles through the room, one she’s stayed in countless times before. She’s right; they probably never should’ve started their affair in the first place. Sleeping with your best friend is bound to end badly. But they understand each other, each of them here with hardly a choice on whether they stay or go. It isn’t as if they’re being held against their will, but the implication is that they’ll seriously regret it if they try to leave, one way or another. They simply both took comfort in knowing that someone else felt as they did.

He’s about to go to bed himself, ready to rid himself of the guilt that came along with the events of the day, but he pauses as he walks by his front door just in time to hear a resounding thud coming from across the hall. He panics and swings his own door open when he hears the terrified cry in response. He heard something earlier today that sounded exactly like that terrified cry.

Rushing over to Neal’s apartment, he places his hand on the knob and presses his ear to the door. He doesn’t want to burst in with haste since he has no idea what he actually heard, and the door must be locked anyway. But he can’t help but recall the image of her pressed to the door looking horrified, two knives on either side of her throat. He can’t get the look in her eyes out of his head.

There aren’t anymore sounds resonating from the apartment, silence falling over him as he attempts to listen out for signs of trouble. After a moment, all he hears are soft, painful sobs coming from the other side of the door.

~~~~

It’s surprisingly even more terrifying to be in the shop during the day than it was at night. At least when she was here last night, the shadows kept the frightening details of the space hidden, but now that the sun is up and streaming through the small basement windows, she’s able to see too much.

She can see the aged and worn paint on the walls, giving her an automatic and infallible feeling of unease. She can see the decorative weapons proudly displayed on every inch of every wall. She can see the rugged violence on each of the men’s faces so clearly in the sunlight. Being here terrifies her.

“Morning, Miss Swan,” Peter greets as Neal leads her into the large meeting room. He’s already sitting at the table waiting for them, Gold at his right and two empty seats to his left. There are several other members at the table as well, and she can’t help but notice how bright Killian’s eyes look in the sun streaming through the windows. “Welcome to your first real family meeting.”

The others around the table laugh, everyone but Jones seeming to find his joke about her near death experience to be funny. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” Neal asks in her ear, his voice low and his teeth clearly clenched.

She clears her throat and gives Peter the fakest smile she can muster. “Good morning.”

“That’s a good lass,” he praises, setting free a flock of anxious butterflies in her stomach. “Come sit. We saved you a seat by Neal.”

They sit side by side, and it’s becoming easier and easier to question his ranking within the group of men at the table. She finds it impossible to see him as a simple lackey when his name is carved into the table in intricate lettering in front of his chair, directly to the left of Peter's seat at the head.

There are talks of their plans, and she gathers some information easily while they seem to go to great lengths to keep other things hidden from her based on the threatening glances Peter doles out from time to time. There’s a trip coming up, and it’s automatically assumed that Neal will be going with Peter and Gold will be staying behind, as if this arrangement was made and agreed upon a lifetime ago. Once the other attendees are determined, Peter turns to face her and gives her a smile.

“Now, a job for you, my dear. Neal tells us you have a talent in finding people.”

“She can find anyone,” Neal says proudly, referring to her short stint as a bail bondsperson back when she lived in Boston. When she had met Neal after he witnessed her taking down a skip, he took her under his wing and told her she didn’t have to live such a dangerous lifestyle anymore. “Well, almost anyone.”

Her stomach flips at his hint; at his willingness to bring up one of the most painful memories she has. She’s great at finding people, but in 25 years, she still hasn’t been able to find her parents.

Pan hums. “We can look past a few failed attempts. What we need from you now, Emma, is your skillset to find a certain someone who deserted our cause.”

She gulps. “You want me to hunt down someone who doesn’t agree with you?”

“No love,” he laughs, and Neal’s grip on her hand tightens just a notch. “I want you to find someone who has valuable information and won’t hesitate to hand it over to a rival.” Emma bites her lip in thought, concern likely colored across her face. She hadn’t considered the existence of a rival gang before this moment, and she becomes frightened to think of there being more than one set of men like them. The thought that another gang is out there and considers themselves rivals to The Lost Boys means she’s potentially putting herself in even more danger by becoming associated with them. What will another gang do to the girlfriend of one of their rival’s members, especially a member whom she suspects is higher up in the rankings than he’s letting on?

“It’s not lost on me that you’re feeling uncomfortable here, Emma. The tension between you and Neal is perfectly palpable. But I’d implore you to let go of your fears; no one here will harm you. We’re here to protect you. By simply being associated with Neal, you have the protection of everyone in this club. And I’m sure it makes perfect sense that we would expect something of you in return for our unquestioning devotion to your safety.”

Although something about his words makes her suspicious, she suddenly feels a sense of strength at his claim that she’s a part of the group now. It’s as if he’s telling her that her thoughts and opinions matter, so she makes a bold choice and speaks up. “Can I clarify something?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“What are you protecting me from, exactly?”

Peter smirks and shakes his head, giving Neal a look that she can’t quite read. “I suppose Neal hasn’t informed you of how dangerous a place this world can be for a woman like you, Miss Swan. Your love for Neal makes you a target, as does Neal’s love for you. By falling for him, you’ve also fallen into our world. And because we’re so devoted to what you have to offer, we will protect you from everyone who may want to hurt Neal.”

“Just because I can find people pretty easily?” she asks doubtfully. His explanation isn’t making any sense to her. She can’t rectify in her head how loving Neal can equate to requiring constant protection, especially based on his claim that he’s going to be leaving soon.

“No, Emma,” he laughs condescendingly, as if he were talking to a child who couldn’t handle the truth. She wonders if he’s right. “Worry not; all will make sense to you as time goes by. For now, let's get started with your first assignment. Hook, show the lady to her office.”

~~~~

“Most sites are blocked here,” he explains as he powers up the old desktop, groaning softly as he stands again. “You’ll likely run into trouble if you try to find him on Facebook or anything.”

“Why?” she asks, and although she immediately regrets opening her mouth, the look he gives her feels more amused than anything.

“Why?”

“Um… why are they blocked?”

He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head and looking away from her once he notices that the computer has booted up. “To keep you out of trouble, I suppose.”

She bites her bottom lip, squeezing her fists until she feels the sting of her nails digging into her palm. She isn’t sure that, in the last day since she’s come here, she’s been kept out of trouble at all. She’s been in trouble-- in danger-- since she heard those bikes pulling up behind her and Neal.

“Right,” she says softly, sarcastically, and again, she kicks herself for opening her mouth. She wonders what would have happened to her by now if she was with anyone but Jones in this moment.

“Love,” he starts, his voice soft and tender, and she almost wonders if he intends to step close to her. Perhaps he means to comfort her. “I’m--” he clears his throat, “If you need anything…”

Their eyes meet, and it’s like the first time again. His azure stare bores into her in a way that makes her shudder, but not out of fear this time. She feels seen, understood, and while it’s only been a day since her traumatic greeting from the club, it feels like a lifetime since she’s felt a sense of safety. It feels comforting to meet his gaze, and she suddenly lets her breathing steady and her heart rate settle. “Thank you,” she whispers genuinely. She isn’t sure how she could relay it to him if she does need something, but the way he looks at her tells her that he’ll know.

For the first time since she’s been here, her safety appears to be a priority to someone. Relief washes over her and she lets it, despite knowing that it will dissipate the moment he walks out the door.

~~~~

“How’s it goin’ in here, my little worker bee?”

She looks up from the computer she’s been staring at, met by Neal leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. The dinosaur she’s working on is hardly functioning, most sites she’s tried blocked and inaccessible and the speed at which it loads each page almost painful. After almost a week of working on the assignment they’ve given her, she’s found almost nothing.

“Hi,” she mumbles, turning back to the screen. All they had given her was a name and a last known location, and she’s struggling to find more.

“Doing alright?”

“I can’t find much,” she says.

“You’ll find him; you’re smart. I wonder if that’s genetic,” he says with a laugh and a smirk in her direction. She isn’t sure what he means or how to respond, so she simply smiles somewhat awkwardly and moves on. She refuses to let herself wonder if this is another dig at her for being parentless.

“It just feels impossible. This guy, Graham… are you sure he even exists?” she jokes.

He laughs, but it’s forced and she doesn't detect a genuine smile. “Are you doubting Peter?”

Emma looks up at him, meeting his eyes with confusion colored in her own. “No,” she starts, although she isn’t sure if she’s being truthful in her answer. “It’s just…”

Neal shoves away from the door and slinks closer to her, bending at his knees and squatting until his eyes meet her level. “Ems,” he starts, his hand landing on hers and applying what she thinks is meant to be a comforting amount of pressure. “Don’t start.”

“What…?”

He groans and leans away from her. “It's not a damn secret that you aren’t happy to be here. I need you to be better about that.”

She lets her jaw hang open for a bit longer than she means to, shock taking over her as he confirms what she’s been suspecting since the meeting she attended. “Neal,” she starts, “you’re the one who said you want to get out. You said we could leave after a few weeks.”

“And?”

“Uh… and… it’s been a week and you don’t seem like you’re… I mean… it seems like you're happy here.”

“So what?”

“What do you-- so what? You said we were leaving and now it’s like they're your family!”

Neal stands quickly, spinning from her in exasperation as he thrusts his hands into his hair. “You’re being so-- stop judging me! What do you even have to complain about?! They’re being nothing but nice to you. You have a home now, I feed you, I love you, we protect you… I don’t get what your damn problem is!”

“The knives, Neal!” she shouts, unable to hold back the emotional response to his nonsensical claims. “You threw knives at my head!”

There's a loud smack against the desk she sits at, and she’s brought back to the reality of her experience and out of the false sense of control that she let herself believe she had. She has to force herself to move on from the thought that she and Neal are able to have a conversation. When she looks down to where his hand met the surface, she sees his gun held beneath his palm. She pales.

“It’s time to move on,” he hisses quietly, his voice taking over the silence of the room. It’s another threat. Another convenient way to show her that he has power over her. That he can take everything away from her, even her life, in a second if she gives him a reason to. “You weren’t in danger, baby,” he says, his voice more soothing this time, drawing from her that feeling again. The feeling that she’s overreacting. “I had it under control, remember?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She sighs heavily at the feeling of his lips tracing along her jaw until he reaches her neck. “You did?” she asks weakly. With his sudden change in demeanor, his obvious desire not to make her feel unsafe anymore, she feels something shift between them.

“Of course I did; don’t be stupid. You know I did.”

It feels good, she lets herself realize. As her eyes slip closed and a soft breath escapes her lips, she makes herself relax into his touch. With her sense of sight cut off, she feels herself giving in to his touch in favor of feeling some sense of relaxation after a week of hypervigilance. His rough stubble scratches at her skin, something she normally doesn’t like, but right now, she doesn’t think she minds too much. With her eyes shut, the rest of the world closed off from her mind, she thinks she could appreciate some stubble.

She feels the smooth leather of his sleeve under her fingertips and she likes it. Sure, she’s always thought the leather jackets were sexy, but here and now, something about him in it becomes more appealing. But when his hand creeps up her waist, his touch a bit too rough, too domineering, she flinches.

“Shh,” he hisses softly, attempting to soothe her. “It’s alright.”

At the sound of his voice, something snaps within her and she stiffens. It sounds wrong, she realizes. “Wait,” she murmurs as his hand creeps under her shirt.

He breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”

“I just,” she starts, nervous as he pushes away. “We’re… I mean, we’re here.” She gestures around the room, hopeful that her discomfort at the thought of sleeping with him in this office where anyone could walk in is clear.

“Right. So when we get home, you’ll be more than willing?” he asks doubtfully, rolling his eyes.

“Neal,” she begs softly, unsure of where she went wrong. She’s unsure of how she could have messed this up when she was the one to express her own discomfort. “Please.”

“Please,” he mimics, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ll see you in a week.”

With that, confusing words exchanged between them, he’s out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza

#Watch the Sunlight fade #Sunlight ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan angst #cs ff #gang au #captain swan au #modern au #angst with a happy ending #tw: domestic violence

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five-hxrgreeves · 3 years

Text

I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 1,982

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

Pt. 3- Monday, April 1, 2019

The morning of the first dawned with a bright blue sky and perfect spring temperatures, almost in mocking irony of the fate it would meet later on that same day. Suspecting nothing amiss, Lola began her usual morning routine of getting ready for school. After brushing her teeth, she went to her closet and decided on a pair of jeans, a white, long-sleeved v-necked shirt with black polka-dots and after brushing her hair, hesitated over a choice of hats that she owned. While there was no strict dress code at her school, she did like to make a good first impression on Mondays. The rest of the week was up for grabs.

Coming to a decision, she reached for a yellow hat with a navy-blue ribbon around the crown that was tied in a bow and placed it jauntily on her head. The brunette was somewhat known around school for her unique accessories so she’d only been indecisive over which style she’d wanted, not actually whether or not to wear a hat. She then pulled on a pair of riding-styled boots and picked up her backpack, sliding her deck of cards into the back pocket of her jeans. Lunchtime was usually a boring affair so it was often when she would practice her magic- sometimes with a crowd to entertain.

On her route to school, Lola passed the familiar Umbrella Academy house and wondered what transpired within the walls, remembering the strange man she’d met the previous week. She wondered how long it had been since all of the siblings had seen each other since from Vanya’s book, it hadn’t seemed like they’d lived under the same roof for a long, long time. A smile flickered across her face as she thought of grown-up superheroes attempting to act like real siblings and the interesting, chaotic bickering that might ensue.

(Of course, she had no idea that such arguments might result in the end of life on earth.)

After that, the day passed as it usually did, with millions and billions of people completely unaware of what the night would bring.

Once dinner was over, Lola scraped her plate clean and set it in the dishwasher before turning it on to run, blatantly unaware that this would be the last time she did such a mundane action for a long, long time. Then, she made her way into the family room where her mother, father and uncle were sitting on the couch about to watch TV. Both men had their traditional after-dinner drink of two fingers of whiskey while her mother sipped on spiked hot coffee.

“Mom?” Lola asked.

“Yes, dear?”

“I’m going to the basement now, all of the dinner dishes are cleaned up.”

Her mother’s blue eyes- the ones she’d inherited- flicked to the younger girl, “alright, but don’t stay up too late. It’s a school night, you know.”

Her uncle grinned, “yeah,” he said, breaking to take a sip from his glass, “wouldn’t want you to show up all grumpy for school tomorrow.”

Lola sighed and nodded in acceptance, “alright, I’ll do my best,” she said, knowing it was more than likely she’d lose track of time anyway.

Moving first towards her mother, then father and finally her uncle, she gave them each a goodnight hug and exchanged their daily I love yous.

(She would be grateful that these were the last words she’d ever said to her family. At least she wouldn’t have to live wondering if her family had known she’d loved them.)

Then, she went to the basement.

Not even a mile away, the beginnings of an altercation were occurring at the house the size of a single block where the seventh, disregarded member of the family of superheroes was receiving a hostile welcome at the introduction of her new boyfriend, Leonard Peabody.

Lola liked her basement. It wasn’t terribly large but it wasn’t terribly small, either. Half of it was unfinished and the other half was lived-in, creating a perfect balance. In the unfinished side, metal shelves that one might see in a hardware store stood floor-to-ceiling with various tools and stored holiday items. Paint cans, electric machinery, extension cords and other items one would normally find in a shed were scattered haphazardly along the shelves.

In the other half, a carpeted floor of some green color stretched from the back wall to right before Lola’s writing desk. On top of it sat an old, brown-leather couch, a black wooden coffee table from IKEA and a TV hung mounted on the wall. After the carpet ended, removable foam-padded tiles formed the floor. This was the area where Lola’s desk sat which was a large, white table. The desktop itself was almost empty except for her half-filled notebook, three different-sized candles, a pencil sharpener and a pencil holder. Her papers- both for school and other things- were stored in a hand-me-down brown file cabinet that stood to the left of her workspace.

Before sitting down to write, the brunette carried out her ritual warm-up: lighting the candles, flipping to the next available page, sharpening her pencil and placing her reference books on her desk- The Book Thief, of course, and her new book from Vanya Hargreeves. Then, she pulled her deck of cards from her back pocket and placed the rectangular box carefully on the lower-left corner of her desk, making sure to match up the corners of the box with the outlined shape created by the corner. She wasn’t sure why she did this, it just was something she absolutely had to do before she finally sat down.

Once finished, Lola made sure to flip the electric lights off and returned to her seat which was a rolly-chair with one broken wheel. She began to write surrounded by her small pool of glowing, flickering light.

Today’s memory is from when I was six. (Note to self: find a better opening.) It was my first time at the store for hours on end. Usually, a babysitter would come by and pick me up but I suppose she cancelled. (NtS: get more details. Just kidding, nobody cares about that.) Anyway, I was super bored and since I was little, I didn’t have any schoolwork to do. I wandered around the store for a bit, probably causing mischief. Anyway (you already said that, dummy) the funny part is that I sat down at a group of mannequins because there weren’t any other seats and I must’ve sat so still that everyone thought I was one because when I finally stood up, a woman screamed. I didn’t know why at the time but it happened again when I was older. Then I started doing it for my own amusement. It was funny to see people think that I was a fake, plastic doll only to realize I was actually real. Sometimes, I even went to the back and dressed in clothes that would soon be modeled by the mannequins- although I think the effect was ruined because I didn’t fit them.

A story up and a block over, the altercation had grown to a full-blown verbal assault, the main four members of the family heatedly questioning the new boyfriend’s insistence on them coming to their sister’s concert. The seventh member, feeling hurt and angry that her family wouldn’t, just once support her, felt the tension build up within her, her emotions unusually high from the lack of medication she’d consistently taken for years until this week.

The spot was also great for people-watching. While Gimbel Brothers has mostly ordinary clients, there are some cases that are more noteworthy (NtS: fix wording, sounds awkward). There are many people who bring children to the store as well. On Mondays, there is an average of twelve children, usually after school. The number varies throughout the week until Saturday where there are usually fifteen or twenty. One time, as an outlier during the holidays, there were twenty-five. I know this because I counted them. I don’t usually do it intentionally and I’m sure I miss some customers but for some reason, all the numbers stick in my head. The funny thing is, I’m terrible at math. I’m also really good at cards, though. I’ve never lost a game of War or Go Fish. My uncle says I’m a counter, which I suppose is true. I’ve also counted all the sequins on one of our formal dresses, just for fun. There were two-hundred and eighty-six.

As the sky grew dark outside, the argument in the large house had reached an all-time high with Leonard Peabody outwardly insulting his girlfriend’s largest brother, inciting his anger and riling him up purposefully, causing him to throw the first punch. The seventh member of the family desperately tried to pull her boyfriend away, to save him from an assault that he would surely not survive. She was right about that, but there was nothing she could do. There was only one person Number One listened to and it wasn’t her.

Anyway, back to people-watching. There was once a rich woman who came to our store. No one could figure out why; we’re not exactly the high-end type. She brought her daughter with her, a pretty, blonde girl with bright blue eyes. Almost like mine, I think, but they looked better on her. I heard her tell Brittany that she wanted to get her granddaughter ‘normal clothes,’ except she said it like an insult. I figure that when her granddaughter came to visit, all she provided were expensive outfits and the girl spilled on them, teaching her the lesson of buying cheaper clothes for little kids. She didn’t say all of that but I made up the story to go along with her request.

Standing over Leonard’s body, the seventh member of the Hargeeves turned on her brother, eyes shining white against her pale face. In his hand, he held a bloody, glass eyeball. Her siblings crowded together, trying to calm her, but she spent all of her life being calm and she was tired of it. Turning her gaze to the academy, the building shook under a ten-point-zero earthquake, the bricks and concrete falling down in rapid succession. Tearing her gaze away from the sight of her childhood hell, she let sound waves resonate through the street, knocking over buildings and causing them to collapse, burying her siblings in rubble. Carelessly, she walked away as anger, sadness and hatred fueled her steps to her apartment where she changed and gathered up her violin for the world’s last performance.

She was very posh too, with fur and everything. She stood still long enough that I could study her coat, which had thirty spots. I’m not sure if it was real fur (if it was, she’s a horrible person), but she certainly acted very high-class, even speaking a little nasally and tilting her head up to look down on Brittany. I think it might’ve been because of Brittany’s skin color. The woman didn’t seem to be very accepting of hard-working people that looked different from her.

At ten o’clock pm, the close of the concert, sound waves so large they felled the building and many blocks over swept through the city. A short, dark-haired woman with a glowing white light in the center of her chest rose above the destruction, sending out pulses of sound to the far-reaching corners of the world. With no one to stop her, no one to shoot a gun next to her ear, the bottled power exploded from her chest sharing with everyone the feelings of hurt and neglect that she’d been forced to endure throughout her childhood. One person alone survived in a basement not much deeper than the fictional character’s she admired, writing away and completely unaware that the world above had changed beyond recognition.

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x dolores #five hargreeves x oc #five hargreeves x reader #Five x oc #five x dolores #tua five #5 #human dolores #pre-tua #apocalypse #hargreeves #dolores isn't a mannequin #vanya hargreeves

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earthfluuke · 4 years

Photo

welcome to part 3! i’m very excited about this one, so i hope you all enjoy it!

just a reminder: i based some parts of the nymphs off of the nymphs from greek mythology, but for the most part, they are whatever i made them up to be.

parts: 1 / 2 / 2.5 / 3

Sarawat has the entire town fooled, but Earn is smarter. She knows her best friend, knows when there’s something he’s hiding. Finding resources and deciding if the land is stable enough to move in on doesn’t take this long. Weeks have gone by; enough is enough.

It should surprise her to find Sarawat entangled with a boy adorned in flowers, eyes taking over his face when he catches a glimpse of her. And it should surprise her even more when she finds herself chasing after them when they dart down the opposite side of the hill to the banks of the river. But neither can compare to the slack jaw, awe struck shock she feels when she sees her.

Ankle deep in the water, the girl stands proud. Back straight, arms stretched to her sides, her palms lay flat, fingers spread with the threat of forming another wave. Her brown eyes hold fear when they bore into Sarawat but morph to protective when they flicker to the flower-draped boy. Sun light reflects off the pink and gold scales that outline her cheeks and round over the curve of her temple.

To anyone else who happened to be blessed by her presence would consider her mystical, magical, otherworldly. But the only word that comes to Earn’s mind is beautiful.

Everything around her – Sarawat, the flower boy, the forest in front of them and the field behind – disappears, and there’s nowhere to look but at her. Her desire to go forward is just as strong as her need to pull herself back. Potential of scaring her off keeps her grounded, and all she can do is watch her through the hazy, golden halo her mind – or is it her heart? – has set around her.

Sarawat breaks her free. Hands shaking her arms, he begs her, pleads her, to keep what she’s seen to herself, to not under any circumstances tell anyone else in town, to please, for him.

“Who is she?” she hears herself asking between his cries. She looks over his shoulder towards the girl. She’s calmer now, at ease, as she takes the boy’s – the one she can only assume belongs to Sarawat – hands into her own. Her softened features send Earn’s heart into double time.

“I don’t know,” Sarawat answers quickly before he goes back to his frenzy. “But, Earn. Please. For me. For him. Tine; his name is Tine. Please don’t tell anyone about this. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just please. Please.”

She finally looks to her best friend, and she cannot remember a time he’s looked more serious, more scared. His fingers dig into her, but they shake at the same time. This boy must be special, if he can turn Sarawat to this.

“I won’t tell,” she finally swears and accepts the bone crushing hug she’s pulled into.

…

A condition comes with her promise. Not because she needs anything to maintain her secrecy but rather because she’s desperate.

She follows after Sarawat and parts ways with him at the apple tree. Canvas in her satchel, easel strung over her back, she sets her makeshift studio out along the banks of the river. Cups of paint circled around her, she picks out a brush and loses herself to her art.

She starts with the bases – the pale blue sky, the dark green grass, the teal river she shades to appear crystal. Fluffs of clouds and sharp tree branches follow. Final touches in the forms of a cluster of cattails growing at the edges of the river and the lily pads floating atop it near complete the painting. But there’s one thing missing.

Every so often, she lifts up her brush to glance at the river, pay close attention to it to catch bright eyes or mirrored scales. Luck comes to her just as the sun sets. When she goes to switch brushes, she spots her, the girl from the river, the beautiful mystery, the one thing missing from her painting.

Eyes peeking over the surface of the water, they watch her. She doesn’t raise up any further, but Earn has what she’s come for. It’s a rush job to add her into the painting, but she can’t contain her excitement.

She tip-toes towards the river as to not scare her. She bends, bends, bends over until the tip of her nose is a mere breath from the girl’s forehead. Only then does she duck away, quick movement startling Earn face first into the river.

She watches from beneath the water as the girl disappears downstream. The current that follows her carries one word to her ear: Pear.

…

Her mistake isn’t one she intends to make again, and it comes with consequences. For the next week, there is no sign of Pear. Earn remains optimistic, continues to believe that she will return when she once again feels safe. But by the seventh day, she’s beginning to grow discouraged.

She waits until the sky turns a golden orange, pink sprouting out from the setting sun, to add it to her painting. It’s the same scene she’s been painting for days, but this one is brighter, a burst of color against the familiar neutrals she now paints like they are second nature.

Sudden water droplets drip onto her pant leg, and her head is whipping to the side before she can stop herself. She’s met with a cheek covered in pink and gold scales, and now that she’s close enough, she takes note of how they also dip down her neck.

Pear isn’t looking at her, gaze instead set on her painting. Earn doesn’t dare move, barely lets herself breathe, as she steps closer. Her foot – also covered in scales that dissolve up over the outside of her calf – hits a cup filled with pink paint.

Picking it up, she dips in a webbed finger. It comes out the same color as the paint, the same color as her scales, and in one last surge of curiosity, she presses it to the very center of the canvas.

She looks both surprised and terrified to see that she’s left her mark on something that isn’t hers. Taking a step back, she’s ready to bolt within seconds. But Earn doesn’t give her the chance.

Quickly covering her own finger in red paint, she places her fingerprint next to the one Pear left. Turning to her, Earn offers her a soft smile, one that reaches her eyes and tells her everything is just fine. Pear returns it, and she feels a small flame warm her heart.

It only grows when she dips her finger back into the paint and decorates the entire frame. By the time she’s filled half the canvas, she motions to Earn’s hand. Too afraid to make the wrong move and send her hiding back in the depths of the river, she stays still. With an unsatisfied huff, Pear takes it upon herself to lift her hand and press her paint covered finger back onto the painting.

The feel of her hand wrapping around her wrist engulfs Earn’s chest with fire, and she burns. Her insides are impossibly hot from a single touch, and it worries her to think of what anything more could do to her.

She cools herself down by littering red fingerprints in the spaces between Pear’s pink ones. By the time they’re done, the image beneath is unrecognizable. And yet it’s the most wonderful painting Earn has ever made.

…

“You look happy,” Sarawat comments as they journey back to town.

“Maybe I am,” she says, readjusting the canvas in her arms. Stroking over the raised bits of paint, only just dry, she hugs it close to her. The distance between her and Pear dulls the flame in her chest, but it sparks at the thought of having this small piece of her. “I don’t think I really knew what happy was until today.”

…

Two canvases are heavy, but the extra weight is a small price to pay for her to see Pear waiting for her in the grass beside the river.

Setting up the extra easel, Earn gifts her with her own set of brushes. Lips pursed and eyebrows arched, she holds the brushes in the flat of her palm, running a tip through the bristles and watching them bounce back in intrigue. This innocent curiosity along with the tiny gasp she gives all but melts Earn into the ground below.

It’s trying to get the brushes to fit between the webbing in Pear’s fingers, but their attempts are finally met with success. “You can paint whatever you like,” Earn tells her, timid and gentle, nerves of scaring Pear away still bubbled high in her stomach. “There are lots of colors to choose from, see?”

Uncapping each cup, she offers Pear the pink. Familiarity hits her, and her smile outshines the sun. She’s off from there, and Earn should be as well. But each time she turns to her canvas, she’s drawn to the one beauty her art can never replicate.

Pear’s strokes are calculated, careful. And yet her wrist bends just so, loose and at ease, languid lines bleeding over the page. She’s very much the river she resides in; the calm stream flows freely, quiet and serene. But then there’s a wave, a crash against the banks, whenever she makes a mistake. Suddenly, she’ll still, wait, and Earn prepares for the flood that never comes. She breathes deep, exhales slow, and returns to tranquility.

The end product isn’t much more than a collection of lines with the occasional stray fingerprint. But it’s Pear, and for that, it is everything.

…

“What shall we paint today?” Earn asks, back to Pear as she adjusts the canvas along the ridge of the easel. Having watched Earn’s creations, Pear had become less keen on the abstract of her lines and wanted something more realistic. They’d begun with flowers, moved up to small frogs that politely sat still when Pear asked them to, advanced with the forest of trees on the opposite side of the river. Any mistake Pear makes is met with kind reassurance, a helping hand atop hers that guides the brush the correct way, a smile that she eventually returns.

Brushing off her hands on her pants, she turns to meet a held out hand. She accepts it easily, because of course she does. It fits nicely in her own, even around the webbing, and she dares a stroke of her thumb over the scales that cover her knuckles. They’re cool and smooth and unlike anything else she’s ever felt.

There’s a light tug, a shake of her arm, and it calls Earn’s attention upwards, to Pear’s pretty face and desperate eyes. They’re endless, large enough to hold oceans, captivate Earn to the point of no return. Only when Pear squeezes her hand does she break away to ask, “You want to paint me?”

The nod she gives is shy but firm. She’s head set despite her concerns, and Earn is in no position to deny her. She allows her to position her how she wants, tries and ultimately fails to keep her breath even when Pear pushes her every which way until she’s satisfied.

Behind the easel, she’s focused, pinched brows and scrunched nose taking over her features. Earn truly does her very best to maintain her far off gaze, but she cannot help but be magnetized back to Pear. Art is creating art before her; not staring is futile.

Time passes too slow and yet too fast, and Pear is shifting from foot to foot with her bottom lip between her teeth. Seeing her brush set aside, Earn gets up and circles around to the opposite side of the canvas.

Altogether, it’s a messy attempt. Edges are jagged, colors blur together. But there are lighter brown highlights that show the sun reflecting off her hair and curved lines etched into the center of her lips. Small details that Earn has only mentioned in passing decorate her portrait, and it sets her ablaze once more. The hopeful glances Pear gives her, hands clasped together in front of her chest, do little to extinguish it. This girl will char her to a pile of ash, but if her way to go is by the slope of her smile and the hesitant flush to her cheeks, then by all means, take her.

“It’s lovely,” she says. Her shoulders sag in relief, and Earn takes the opportunity to grab her hands once more. “I’ll have to find a frame for it. It’ll look so nice in my room.”

Smile widening across her cheeks, Pear pulls herself closer, giggling high and sweet, jingling bells sounding through her ears and heart. Earn lets their arms drop, dangle between them as her head tips forward. There’s still a space between them, but it’s enough. Especially when Pear doesn’t back away.

…

Guitar strings strum behind them, and they draw Pear from her canvas. Gaze up the hill, she’s distracted long enough for Earn to notice.

Setting down her brush, she swivels to look up towards the apple tree, towards where the notes are drifting from. “You want to listen to the music?” she asks. “We can; I’m sure Wat wouldn’t mind a bigger audience.”

She’s tugged backwards just as she moves forward. Both of her wrists are caught, and suddenly she’s being swung around the field, twirled around and around and around. It’s dizzying, and her vision kaleidoscopes; she can make out colors, patterns, but not much else. Catching a flash of Pear’s face, her wide smile, she’s serenaded by the giggles she gives as they fall into an unled dance.

Time passes, the song changes, but they still move together – in, out, back, forth. And then she’s falling, crashing into the shallow end of the river, water beneath her and Pear atop. She catches her by the shoulders, holds her up, and when the shock wears off, she realizes this is the closest they’ve been.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. She wants to stay, try for more, test the figurative and literal water with her. But there are boundaries, hurdles, stepping stones they have yet to get past, over, around; barreling forward head on will only get her hurt.

She’s held down as she goes to sit up, and she dares a glance. Wide eyes are hard to read, but at the very corner, small enough to miss, there is that ferocity Earn saw the very first day she’d spotted her. There is fear and pause, but along with that is passion, the very thing that keeps her strong and steady.

That passion drives her forward. Hand cupping the side of her head, Earn fits her fingers below her ear, threads them through her hair. Chin tipping up, still not daring a full lurch, her eyes flicker to Pear’s lips and there’s an intense want, an unquenchable need.

Patience dwindling, fire growing, she inches further. And that seems to be enough. Fists in her shirt collar, eyes on hers until they finally shut, Pear closes the gap Earn is too afraid to.

Every sense bursts to life at once. Scents of damp grass, river water with a touch of floral; sounds of dragonflies buzzing by and a familiar tune taught to her by the elders in the village floating from the top of the hill; touches of brown tendrils brushing across her cheeks as their heads tilt, soft skin and hard scales contrasting beneath her palms; tastes of apples and finally and yes; and the sight of the most beautiful girl, most beautiful creature, most beautiful anything that graces this very earth flushing pink and dipping her head when they pull apart.

Her fluster doesn’t deter her far. She lets herself be held, and Earn’s heart, spirit, soul soars far from her body. No more spaces between, no more hesitations. She pulls her back, waits for the slow sigh Pear gives against her lips before she deepens.

The fire roars on, and slowly the embers turn to ash.

…

Her return is met with a tangle of limbs and lips against her ear. Stepping back to steady herself, her hands come to rest upon the curve of Pear’s spine, fingers dancing up and down the ridges.

“Hello,” she breathes through a laugh, tilting up her chin when Pear nudges beneath it. “I’m sorry I haven’t come for a few days; my parents needed my help around the house. But I snuck a few of the tarts my mother made into my bag. Will that make up for it?”

Pear doesn’t go for her bag, for the treats. She instead goes for her mouth, bleeds relief and happiness and I missed you into it. Hands pressing against her waist, pushing their torsos closer, she turns to her jaw, her cheek, her nose, to brush all of her emotions there as well.

Earn lets her, soaks in every second. Only when she pulls back, gives a satisfied giggle, does she return the affection. Butterfly kisses flutter about her skin, followed by the whispers of longing and the promise of it will never happen again.

It has only been a few days, but the effect is strong. Paint brushes untouched, canvases downturned, her inspiration had fallen from her, dropped over a cliff into the abyss. Here – grass blades tickling her ankles, the coolness of scales beneath her fingertips, her beautiful nymph in her arms – her imagination bursts to life; it spills back into her. And as she rests her forehead against Pear’s temple, she cannot help but think the muse never left. It has only been waiting for her to return to it, for now it resides here. In this meadow, by the lake, with Pear.

…

Knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder. Not even a breath of air can pass between them, not with how close they’re sitting. Pear’s forearm pressing heat into hers, they look out towards the water. Sun shining down, the ripples crystalize under the light.

Earn turns to the nymph at her side. She’s blinded by the reflection of her scales and wonder of how someone like her – so astonishingly, mind-bogglingly perfect – can exist; and alongside that, how she has the pleasure of existing with her.

Fingers finding the root of a long stem beside her, she plucks upwards. A water lily – jasmine pearl, white petals fading to purple – fills her palm, and she goes to tuck it behind Pear’s ear.

Reaching to touch it, eyes questioning as they look to her, Pear doesn’t even realize how very fitting the scene is. The flower is her twin: a delicate, gorgeous bloom that captivates anyone who stumbles upon it, making it impossible to look anywhere else. It’s breathtaking. It’s stunning. It’s her.

“I can’t make you a flower crown,” she admits. Pushing back some of her hair that dares to fall over the flower, she offers her a smile. “But you deserve to get flowers as beautiful as you are from someone who loves you.”

Distance closing, she whispers, breath fanning against Pear’s lips, “And I’d like to be that someone.”

Earn sees a smile stretch across her face before her eyes shut fully and their lips come together. There are so many things to feel all at once. Love, desire, a raging fire. But more than anything else, happiness spreads through her, bursting wide like the flower behind Pear’s ear. Happiness, she thinks as their hands come to hold each other. This is it.

#2gether #2gether the series #earnpear #earn x pear #2gether fanfic #my writing #nymph!tine au #but now also #nymph!pear au

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phonecallwithsatan · 4 years

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just look for my owl (two)

fred weasley x y/n series

a.n: Fred Weasley Fic!!! wondering if this will get anywhere. i’m sticking all my friends names in this and it’s very entertaing for me. 2.3k words in this bad boy, and i’m feeling confident in my decision to write on wattpad and tumblr HEHE. enjoy! please keep in mind that i only use they/them for y/n!

Our beloved Fred Weasley falls for Ilvermorny student [y/n] [l/n]. He’s determined to get to them, but the only way he can is through post sent through the two. The only thing left for the pair is to just look for an owl.

Click here for part one! <3

☾

[y/n l/n] had been waiting for their owl to return with their aunt's response to their rant about what exactly to do with the little time they have on their hands.

A new year at Ilvermorny was set for Y/n, but they did not know how long they'd be able to last the back and forth sprinting from home back to school.

Luckily, their partner, Leslie, was able to help them out with their time management.

[y/n] and Leslie had begun seeing each other at the end of Y/n's fifth year, initially bonding from their participation in Quadpot.

Leslie was good for Y/n, no doubt, but as of lately, they haven't been able to see Leslie as much, leading to a disinterest forming from Y/n's side. Just a few hours back, [y/n] was not able to pry themselves off of Leslie's roaming hands, eager for a person next to them who did not constantly leave off.

Yes, they did live half an hour from the school, but Y/n's weekends began turning into three-day ones, ones that made them miss out on Quadpot games and Homework assignments, and ones that made them miss out on Leslie's presence.

It was involuntarily sprinting, but what was [y/n] to do, leave their mother all alone with no one to take care of her? Their father was gone, no siblings, the rest of the family overseas, there was truly nothing. And besides, it was family over anything.

Y/n's mother was 68, just a few years younger than her sister Minerva. She had always been upbeat and extroverted, but as of lately she's been unable to just get up from bed. Along with the old age, it just wasn't looking good, as much as [y/n] didn't want to think about it.

As [y/n] was walking in through their front porch, they saw a brown owl swoop in through the kitchen window with a letter presumably from her aunt.

[y/n] dropped their bag from Ilvermorny in the initial home hallway and ran to the sink where the window was propped open with an owl perched on the ledge.

"Perfect," says Y/n. They hurriedly step on the back of their shoe one by one to slide them off and hurried to the table, wherewith excitement, they open the parcel.

[y/n] had always loved sending and showing polaroid photos to anyone, and as of late, their aunt had corresponded with that.

Inside the parcel was their usual parchment essay, and- holy shit, thought Y/n. At least 15 polaroid snapshots this time from Aunt McGonagall.

[y/n] grinned at this gesture and fished out the photos.

McGonagall had provided a photo of her classroom, the architecture at Hogwarts, their aunt in front of a- cauldron? Gross, thought y/n. Flipping the photos, McGonagall had added notes at the back of them. Her aunt even added a photograph of a... stained textbook? She just probably forgot about this scrap, thought y/n.

Still looking through the polaroids their Aunt had sent them, [y/n] ended up finding a lot of color combinations of mostly red and yellow.

[y/n] knew that her Aunt was head of Gryffindor house, as she had talked about the houses a bunch to them in her letters which is why most of the photos were that color scheme.

Houses were not new topics to y/n, as Ilvermorny had four as well: Horned Serpent, Wampus, Thunderbird, and Pukwudgie. They were a Thunderbird at school, playing for their Quadpot team as #5, and they were good at it.

Just as [y/n] was thinking about Quadpot, they passed through two snapshots of presumably Hogwarts Quadpot team- or so they meant Quidditch.

[y/n] was now looking closely at these photos; one of them being a team photo, and the other a candid of team members #3 and #5- hey, just like my number, thought Y/n.

[y/n] had probably stared at both of the boys' back profile for two solid minutes without blinking, forgetting about their partner Leslie. There was nothing on the back of the photo regarding names.

Shoulder blades showing through his practice jersey, #5 having more of an athletic figure when compared to #3, who also had a built back, but was a bit cut off in the frame while #5 was perfectly in it. "This is so sad", murmured Y/n, wishing they could see who #5 was, even with a partner. He had a broom in his hand that was held on so tight by his arm, almost as if it were to fly off in mere seconds. His grip was firm, making everything in his arm flexed and tense, making [y/n] take a deep breath.

Saddened by this fact, they admit that it is best that they stop staring at this poor boy, who was most likely just watching a scrimmage in front of him. Who were they to stare, but they continued to. "... so stupid," they thought. "Wait-"

With a spark of brilliance, [y/n] quickly looks for the team photo their aunt had sent them, dropping everything in their hands and looking through the stack of polaroids until- there he was.

#5 towering over the rest of his teammates, posing for a team photo taken by the Head of Gryffindor house. The members had been arranged in two rows, four players in the back and three in the front. The shorter ones were in the front and luckily did not block Y/n's view. They flipped the photo to check for names again, but there was nothing except for "Gryffindor 1994 Quidditch Team," written in their Aunt's cursive writing.

He was on the far right, next to- #6 who looked exactly the same.

"Twins," said [y/n] with a wide mouth, still in awe of how attractive they all were.

Ignoring #6 even though him and #5 were identical, Y/n's eyes went back on #5, looking down his body at least twenty times in the minute they had spent staring at the photo. He had a smile on his face, straight teeth, and messy red hair which must have been the result of a long practice. He had his arm on his twin's shoulder, and his other arm reached over the teammate next to him, #4. The arm on his twin was hanging off his brother's shoulder with goggles in hand, gripping just on the strap. There was a light sweat on his face and neck which provided a gleam to it, not too much sweat though, it was a perfect shine extenuating his sharp angles, even his Adam's apple slightly more visible with the shine on it.

Although the photo was a collective snapshot, [y/n] was able to see the build on absolutely every single player. This included the one they had their eye on, #5. The same practice jersey [y/n] had seen before was clinging onto his skin and chest, giving them an image of his build. He was lean, for what they could see, and visibly athletic. [y/n] had begun to wonder what their Aunt was thinking when she sent these photos of her team after practice, well, [y/n] knew, it was not meant to be perceived this way, but still.

#5 was undoubtedly handsome, and they wished to know his name, beginning to be angered by just referring to him as a number on a team. They checked again for a name, but there was nothing.

The rest of the team was just as attractive as #5, #7 having black hair and glasses that [y/n] wondered how they stayed on during a match. His hair was also messed up, and there was a shine on his face from the sun and sweat, his Jersey a bit larger than everyone else's, leading it to hang a bit and show off his collarbones and neck.

#6, a copy of #5, had his Jersey pinned on his body, giving [y/n] a visual of his build, his chest a bit hollowed from his stance since he was laughing more than smiling. Since he was more on the edge, the sun hit him a bit more, showing the outline of his lower torso sticking to the Jersey, a view of his refined abs greeted [y/n] as they blushed at the view even though he was not infront of them.

If they're identical twins, then that means- Stop, thought Y/n.

The team was built by the gods, boys and girls, they all looked happy to be there and thankful they have what they have. [y/n] was jealous of this, because their team was a bit- separate, All trying to one-up another.

No, this team was hot. [y/n] threw it out there, still wondering why their aunt thought it was a perfect idea to send it to y/n.

This was enough- [y/n] was dating Leslie! Not the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

But #5's smile was something unlike [y/n] had seen in their entire life. This was something new, even just a smile, it was new. Cheekbones risen with his smile, his brown eyes were full of light and lust, still visible from paces away from where the photo was taken.

Putting the photos aside from guilt for hitting on an entire team, [y/n] got to the parchment that was neatly folded up in the parcel. [y/n] turned their head to look at the owl that still perched and was now making noises.

"Y/n,

Forget about my sister, darling. Studies come first, everything else is secondary."

God, thought Y/n. What else was to expect though, their aunt was literally a professor.

"... What is there even to do in Massachusetts? Y/n, you need to tell my sister to send you to Hogwarts. There is no future for you there. You and I both know.

...

Tell my sister to get up."

-Minerva"

[y/n] hated when their Aunt sprung up an attitude. The parchment was a few feet long, but it was mostly a rant for not understanding what the words meant, and to get [y/n] to Hogwarts full time.

"Mum!" Yelled [y/n] through the walls. Even living in the states, Mum always stuck. They pushed their photos aside as they shifted against the wooden table.

[y/n] didn't get a response.

"Mum?" Says [y/n] while standing up from their seat. "Mum, I'm home!"

Frantic now, [y/n] walks through the kitchen, through the living room, past their bedroom, and into their mother's room.

And that's when [y/n] sees her- not moving.

She coughs in her sleep, peacefully on her side with her back facing the door in which [y/n] was standing. [y/n] takes a normal breath of air, differentiating from their shudders, and wakes their mother up.

"Mum, you scared me."

Slowly stirring, she eventually wakes up with a smile on her face.

"Fetch me some water, won't you darling?" Say's Y/n's mother while cupping their face as [y/n] sits down next to their mother.

"Of course, Mum. My letter from Aunty came today, why don't you come to read it?"

"Maybe later. Minerva is mad at me." Says the mother.

As [y/n] escapes the grasp of their mother, they get up without saying anything.

How is "Minerva" even going to know if you read the letter or not? You haven't talked in months, thinks y/n, now irritated.

Moving past the brown owl to get a glass for their mum, [y/n] stares at the owl that somehow made the journey to the states from Scotland where Hogwarts is.

They'd have to send a different owl back to their Aunt, as this one was on the verge of falling apart if it did not get any rest. Luckily, [y/n] had their own owl named Stricker.

The owl hooted at her and [y/n] continued to pour water for their mother, all the while just thinking about the team photo they had received.

[y/n] could not give these thoughts the time of day though- no, no, no. [y/n] had school and priorities, not some random ginger an ocean away from them. Their mum- that was a priority, they thought.

Carrying the water back to their Mum's room, [y/n] couldn't help but wonder if what their aunt had said was true. To return to Hogwarts, that is.

[y/n] knew that eventually, this routine of running to their mum back and forth and dealing with Potions homework on their kitchen table was not going to last, and [y/n] would not be able to last on their own at Ilvermorny without the support that was given to them by their Mum.

[y/n] forgot about Leslie. What about Leslie's support, you walnut. God, already forgetting about them? The thoughts in Y/n's brain were bouncing everywhere, mostly about the fact that they had even thought of the idea of leaving their mother and leaving their partner of six months.

But they couldn't help but just think about #5 as a real person, not just a number and a photo. What he was like, what brought him happiness, sadness, anger, lust. What his hair was like under their touch, what it would be like to wear his jersey instead of theirs, what the handgrip would feel like on their neck. You need to stop, thinks [y/n] to them self.

Now sitting in the aforementioned bedroom, [y/n]

handed the water to their upright mother and began to gaze out the window, thinking about- everything in life. Their Potions homework was definitely at the bottom of their imaginary list, the first one being if Hogwarts was a good idea- but it wasn't.

Their Aunt didn't know what she was talking about, and a quidditch team was not going to change their mind about anything. Not a chance, they were going to stay and take care of their mother.

And that's when [y/n] snapped their head, their mother drop the glass on the floor from where she was sitting, hand dropping off the side of the bed, and their mother's body just going limp infront of them.

#fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #weasley #weasley fanfiction #hogwarts

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shesawriter39049 · 5 years

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|Trigger Finger|Mafia AU| M|JJK|

MOB/MAFIA AU/SMUT/HUMOR-ISH Underboss OC X Mob associate Jungkook

Kook’s already whipped and thirsty AFFFF

Jonnie’s in this a little..he’s her body guard as per usual...not that she needs one! So actually he’s her babysitter per Joon needs a damn raise!

**This is a one time flashback within the “Family Ties” Universe...which is a Taehyung centered Mafia series with BTS cameos...if you're new here! Jk is mentioned for the first time in part 3 BTW!!

It is referenced that Luxx (OC’s Nickname) and Kookie have hooked up in the past...this taps into that. As well as how he got his “job” within the alliance/training and blah blah blah ……

1.2k Sneak peek

Also the OC is from Boston....

“I’m just saying!!! Hook your boy up Jeon!!!!”

A snort leaving Jungkook’s lips as he refilled the vodka sprayer,eyes fluttering in the elders direction “Joey...I mean this in the least offensive way possible butttt...you need a certain...look for this whole “Sugar baby concept”.A cheeky little grin stretching across his lips as he patted Joey on the cheek fondly!

“If you're trying to tell me I need to get back on my gym,tan ,laundry then I have no issues with that! Especially if it will help me pull some bad-”

The sound of the back door creaking open halted all conversation, Joey instantly reaching for his gun, as the club wasn't even close to being open. More importantly the doors should have all been pad locked, all it took was the sound of your Louboutins to click along the marble for Joey put two and two together!

Only problem is... that actually made the situation worse, as you weren't one to do drops in so if you were here unannounced that means someone fucked up! Still for some reason none of this registered to Jungkook he’s only ever meet you maybe 5 times and it’s been years. Granted he obviously knew what was done behind closed doors, his actual job only went as far as the strip club was concerned.

After a few moments of observing Joey’s sudden shift in demor...it clicked... “Oh shit…” Gazing back at the latter wide eyed, smacking him in the shoulder lightly. “Wait..is that-” Before he could even ask the question you circled the corner, hips swaying, as your curls bounced behind you. The champagne colored bandage dress clung to every curve on your body, nothing even remotely subtel in the way Jungkkoks eyes traced every outline.

“In through your nose... out through your mouth….” Slipped past your glazed lips as nonchalant as could be...

“I’m sorry what?” Brows scrunched in blatant confusion earning a slight chuckle to rumble in your chest. As you glanced over at him through the tiniest sunglasses imaginable, so much so they were clearly for aesthetic purposes only. Your lashes alone damn near peaked higher than the frame itself… but they were Fenty so that justified it all!

“That’s how you breathe..seems as though you’ve forgotten how to do so...” Eyes slowly leaving his only to shuffle centimeters over, not missing the almost amused smirk that tugged on Jungkook's lips in response.Teeth Grazing his bottom lip as he admired the way you seamlessly transitioned between the two.

“Joeyyy!! Baby come ere! Give me hugs! “ Extending your arms in his direction as you sauntered to meet him halfway. It was almost comical how flabbergasted he was in response to your warm demeanor, you could damn near hear him exhale from a mile away. If you didn't already know he fucked up ...you deffiently did once you saw his face, the man looked like he saw a ghost, no matter how big the smile was that stretched across your face!

Slowly maneuvering around the counter, weapon still in hand “Really? What were you planning to do with that?Bust a cap in my ass or somethin’? Lemme see” Reaching out for the gun, still keeping it in his hand as, while his thumb rested along the magazine. Slowly bringing your index finger up to stroke the trigger..then next thing ya know…..

A noise only comparable to a shriek swept through his throat as he dropped to his knees, right in front of you...eyes searching your’s for a million in one questions he already knew all the answers too. The sudden change in atmosphere earned choked out gasp from Jungkook, who glanced back at you comply wide eyed. Not even sure how to process what the fuck just happened I mean you just asked for a hug 2 seconds ago damn!

Jungkook also found himself questioning why he was somewhat turned on by the sight of you, all dolled up with a 9 in hand...especially considering the fact that you just randomly shot his boss! But damn, if you didn't look good doing it!

“LUXXYY!!!’ You knew that Baritone anywhere…

“Oh my god Joeyyyyyyy!!” There was actually a hint of annoyance lacned within your tone, as if he ACTUALLY shot himself….

“ You just shot yourself in the arm why the hell would you do that ya dick! That looks painful, Namjoon this looks painful, doesn't this look painful?” Glancing over at him innocently, hand gesturing in Joey's direction.

A scoff leaving his lips as he held the bridge of his nose between his index and middle finger, clearly you’ve manged to already stress Namjoon all the way the fuck out! All it took was the two of you being in Vegas for all of 2 hours….

“I mean...it does look kinda sorta painful…” The younger spoke up with a slight snort, and you couldn't help but smirk back at him, cocking your head to the side slightly. Eyes narrowing in his direction.

“Hmm… smart kid...I like you..who the hell are you by the way…? “

“I’m..Kookie, or Jungkook whichever you prefer..” You could tell right away he was a cocky little shit,and for good reason. He was attractive, very actually, nice hair, tattoos..great teeth, you figured the red corvette outside was probably his.

He couldn't be older than 21 and made around 45k a year, and for most people his age who actually WORKED...that was impressive! But clearly not impressive enough for you to know who the hell he was and the look on your face said it clear as day. Which ripped an exaggerated sigh from Namjoon’s throat

“He’s Dom’s son Luxxy!!” you could already tell he was rolling his eyes…

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH….hmmm..” Eyes slowly trailing him from head to toe, somewhat impressed actually, it’s been years since you’d seen him. Jungkook didn't hesitate to return the gesture either. “Well “Dom’s son” head to the back...were about to have a little office meeting...oh also make me a drink...something fruity but I actually wanna taste my liquor…”

“White or dark?”

“Surprise me..”

“Yes ma'am” You could hear the smugness in his voice as he smiled back at you, not hesitating to do as you asked..or commanded I guess I should say.

Brow arched in amusement, a slight humm leaving your lips before slowly bringing your attention down to the man that was in front of you weeping on his knees . Yanking his head back by the nape of his neck, so he had no choice but to look you dead in the eyes.

“Oh my god Joey stop cryin’...I shot you in the arm, your lucky I didn't aim for your scrotum...actually speaking of....that brings me to why I’m actually here “ Pausing slightly while you let your fingers gently caressed the hair at the nape of his neck...the gesture polar opposite to the current situation at hand but ...you were known for that!

“First off...... you're bleeding out, all on my marble and that’s not cute... so Joonie’s gonna take you to the hospital.” Smiling fondly in his direction, Namjoon didn't hesitate to flip you off, not that you blamed him, brining your focus back to the man of the hour!

Yanking his head a little more until you heard a slight whimper leave his throat “And when they ask you what happened..tell them it was an accident...just like you accidentally managed to let my girls gargle cock on the clock!”

Ya know he actually had the nerve to look back at you surprised, he must've forgotten this place is wired up the ass “ Oh please! Save it..I’m not in the mood for a soap opera Joey, listen, I do enough extra curricular shit in this club on my own..”

Moving your hand down to cup his jaw, adding just enough pressure the the hinge to make him squirm “I’ll be damned if the reason I go to jail is because Barbie got caught letting some unhappy stock broker snort coke off her clit!” Abruptly releasing his jaw from your hands, jerking his head back slightly as you released your hold.

“Where’s my drink “Dom’s son!!!?””Echoed through the empty three story building only hearing a noise comparable to pain to leave namjoon’s throat…

“Oh fuck meee...this suits Armani, I really don’t feel like carrying your bitch ass Joey your already bleeding all over the damn place!”

“Is she- is she always that feisty???”” Kookie becked, eyes glued to the way your ass swayed from side to side as you walked away. Tongue teasing at the corner of his mouth.

“ALWAYS…” Slipped through clenched teeth, as Namjoon, leasurily made his way in Joey’s direction.

Only jungkook seemed a lot less..stressed out and a lot more intrigued by the concept…. That was his sassy,sexy and blatantly dominant boss...Jungkook liked having control but there was something about watching you TAKE control...that had his stomach flipping in 83788 directions!

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE FOR NOW…

IF YOU LIKED IT..”LIKE IT” FULL THING WILL PROB BE BETWEEN 7-9K…..OHHH feel freee to send me some smut scenarios, I may try and work them in….

ALSO IF you are a “Family Ties “ reader..Luxx and Tae were NOWHERE near a thing at this point.

ONE SHOT PLOT

#jungkook #jungkook smut #junkook mafia #jungkook mafia au #bts #bts smut #bts mafia #bts mafia au #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #kpop smut #kpop mafia au #jungkook one shot #namjoon mafia au #namjoon

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elysianrey · 5 years

Text

i’ll come to thee by moonlight

(a/n: this is basically the story nobody asked for but I somehow wrote? all it takes is seeing Anne with her own two eyes for Winnifred Rose to quickly understand Gilbert’s undevoted attraction toward her. Minor spoilers related to season 3. content rated G+)

Winnifred Rose sat snuggly between a tall blonde boy, of whom she noticed dressed quite fashionably and exquisitely for someone of his age, and her dear friend, Gilbert Blythe. She glanced curiously about the luxurious garden in which they sat at, as the beautiful blooms gently swayed from the early afternoon summer breeze on the island. She suddenly startled as her attention was swiftly refocused on the dainty, soft girl raising her voice in passionate cry as she finished the end of her poem. The crowd gathered around the small platform before them clapped in admiration at her performance, and she heard a loud ‘whoop’ from a group of boys seated in the section of chairs to their right. She clapped politely along with the others from Avonlea. The small freckled girl smiled shyly from her spot on the stage and gave a curtsy bow before exiting and seating herself in the front row next to a familiar head of auburn hair.

“Next, we welcome to the stage, Miss Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Miss Shirley-Cuthbert will be reciting The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes.”

Winnifred watched as the young woman made her way from her chair up onto the stage. To her right, she sensed Mr. Blythe shift in his seat, slowly leaning forward in anticipation. Had it not been for this fundraiser organized by the spirited Anne herself, Winnifred would not be seated where she was today. Gilbert had expressed his excitement for the fundraiser in his last letter, urging Miss Rose to attend with him in order for her to finally meet this Anne he had fondly spoken of many times in the past.

Anne gracefully took her place in the center of the flower-adorned platform and clasped her hands together in front of her chest. Gilbert’s body inched even closer to the edge of his seat as the girl dressed in a luxuriously deep blue satin dress began to speak.

“The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

And the highwayman came riding—

Riding—riding—

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.”

All around her, eyes that were nodding in tiredness or looking elsewhere quickly became fixed on the redhead’s delivery of the famous poem. It was as if a spell were overtaking the crowd, herself included in the magic this faerie was casting over them. Winnifred could not help but glance over at the curly headed boy. Wonder and awe were written clearly on his features, yet his own eyes held a secret that he had never revealed in all the time she had known him. Gilbert was in love. No, perhaps love was too light of a word. He was smitten, captivated, and completely bewitched by Miss Shirley-Cuthbert. A hidden smile made the corners of her lips turn upward at the realization.

As the poem drew to a close, Winnifred understood why this enchanting young woman had captured the heart of her close friend because she had been drawn into the same allure. Why Anne had no sooner breathed the final words of the poem than Gilbert was already on his feet clapping fervently with the crowd and shouting, “Encore!” The crowd seemed to follow suit and the tall blonde boy next to Winnifred joined in Gilbert’s pleas for more from Anne. Miss Rose saw the redhead glance purposefully in their direction as she beamed and bowed for those cheering at her magnificent delivery. The color creeping up her cheeks began to match that of her hair as Gilbert whistled and smiled so widely his dimples dotted his cheeks.

After an encore performance from Anne, the poetry reading ended and those attending the fundraiser dispersed and headed toward the refreshments located in another section of the majestic garden. Winnifred trailed behind Gilbert and the tall boy who had been sitting beside her, of whom she learned was also a friend of Anne’s, named Cole. They found Miss Shirley-Cuthbert surrounded by an entourage of men, women, and children alike, complimenting and commenting on the zeal they had experienced from her performance. Waiting patiently as she graciously accepted and thanked their praises, she suddenly came bounding over to them, smiling eagerly and laughing happily.

She threw her arms around Cole first and he spun her around once before placing her firmly back on the ground. “Oh Anne!” he exclaimed proudly, taking her hand in his own.

Miss Rose observed the interaction between the pair rather quizzically and stole another glance at Gilbert, who did not appear taken back by the gesture.

“You were simply marvelous! The way you proclaimed the last stanza nearly had me in tears!” Cole clutched at his heart for added dramatic effect and Anne nearly doubled over in laughter.

“We have both come a long way since our days imagining up all kinds of stories in my room at Green Gables, have we not?” Anne stated, catching her breath, and turning away from Cole to Gilbert and Winnifred.

Winnifred watched as Gilbert opened his mouth and his hand began to gesture in her direction when Anne abruptly cut him short by enveloping him in a tight hug. He appeared taken back as he nearly lost his balance, but his arms soon found their way around her petite waist.

“Thank you for coming!” she cried as they broke apart. “Really and truly, Gilbert. I daresay I might not have been on that stage if it had not been for your dear companionship after school these past weeks.”

Gilbert looked down at the ground, flustered at the unexpected recognition from Anne, a blush crawling up his neck from beneath his collar. “You were remarkable, Anne. I was only an outlet for your creativity and talent,” he said fondly, his eyes meeting hers as the two shared a moment in which Winnifred felt like she was intruding upon.

Anne was the first to break the trance by turning to Winnifred and taking both of her hands in her own. “You must be Miss Rose. I was so pleased to hear that you were attending the fundraiser. I hope you have enjoyed Avonlea. Before you leave, I simply must show you The Lake of Shining Waters. It would be a shame to miss such a glorious sight at this time of the year,” said Anne with nearly as much fervor as the poem she had just recited.

Taken aback slightly by her enthusiasm, Winnifred returned the offer with a genuine smile herself and squeezed the redhead girl’s hands, declaring, “How could I pass up such a lovely proposal for adventure, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert? Perhaps while we are there, you could read another poem? I do not think I can take another conversation about the latest medical practice from Mr. Blythe.” She shot Gilbert a teasing look and he shrugged in return.

Winnifred feared Anne was going to burst from elation—quite literally—after hearing her proposal and the redhead squealed delightedly. “Yes of course! I—”

However, before she could finish her next thought, she was being ushered away by a short, stout, grey haired woman who had been calling her name and informed her that she must meet one of the biggest donors of the fundraiser. Anne turned and waved, mouthing ‘Good-bye’ to the three of them as she disappeared in the flock of people.

“I think I know where your passion lies, Gilbert,” she smirked as he stared after the satin outline of the girl. He turned, giving her a puzzled look and she continued. “Oh please, dear friend. You may deny it until you are blue in the face, but your eyes tell me all that I need to know. Perhaps anyone for that matter. You mustn’t let someone like her slip away from you. She’s a rarity in this big world.” Winnifred would know, seeing as she had met many people from all kinds of places thus far in her short lifetime.

Gilbert stood there, his brow furrowed after listening to her words, his brain making an obvious effort to understand everything she had spoken to him. Then, it was as if a new dawning had just occurred to him, and the lines in his forehead smoothed. He put his hand lightly on her shoulder and uttered a ‘Thank-you’ before turning on his heel to go find the auburn-haired girl she assumed.

She stood there, arms crossed, feeling rather smug with herself for helping a friend in need. Perhaps one day, she would find an equal partner in life like Gilbert with Anne, but for now, she was content in experiencing more that this world had to offer. She was awakened from her reverie when Cole, who she had nearly forgotten was still standing beside her, spoke.

“I think you and I are going to be good friends,” he said with a glint in his eye that said, ‘I have been telling them the same thing for years.’ Miss Rose grinned up at him and accepted the gentlemanly arm he extended.

“Shall we drink to prosperity or continued foolishness?” she questioned as they arrived at the beverage table, handing him a glass of punch and taking one of her own.

“Both!” he chuckled, as they clinked glasses and each took sips of the sweet, orange liquid.

Winnifred would later learn that his toast would reign remarkably true.

#anne with an e #awae #shirbert #shirtbert ff #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #anne x gilbert #awae season 3 #cole mackenzie #winnifred rose #ellie writes #i feel like there is a lot of potential for winnie in this show #and she would definitely get upon the shirbert ship with cole #and eventually diana would be apart of this too

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nazariolahela · 5 years

Text

Something Domestic: Chapter 1

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a new TRR AU I’ve been working on. This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Thanks to my guardian angel and internet best friend forever, @burnsoslow. I appreciate you, boo! 😘

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Riley meets her new employers.

The city zooms by as I stare out the tinted windows of the town car I’m riding in. I’m on my way to interview for the nanny position for one of the most upscale families in New York and my palms are damp. What if the kids don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? Or the parents for that matter. What if the father tries to seduce me? Will the mother have me fired because she thinks I’m sleeping with her husband? Thoughts invade my mind as I try to calm myself. I’ve never nannied for a family of this stature before and I don’t know much about them, other than who they are. Depending on how this job goes, it could make or break my career.

The car stops in front of a luxurious penthouse. I crane my neck to scale the height of the building. 60, maybe 70 floors. Who knows? The driver opens the door for me and I exit the vehicle, making my way to the entrance. I’m greeted by a well-dressed doorman.

“Good afternoon. Can I help you, miss?” he says, smiling.

“Riley Brooks. I’m here to see the Rhys family,” I reply, fumbling with the untucked hem of my blouse, quickly tucking it back in the waistband of my skirt. He nods and steps aside, holding the door open for me.

I walk through the magnificent entry vestibule and enter the double-height marble lobby. The view makes me stop in my tracks. This place is incredible. It rivals the lobby of a five-star hotel. A cream-colored banquette round settee sofa sits in the middle of the room, with two circular metal end tables on each side. A gold metal-framed coffee table with a clear beveled glass top sits next to two upholstered grain Italian leather high back chairs. Strewn across the surface are copies of Robb Report, The New Yorker, and DuPont Registry. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

A single receptionist desk presides on the left side of the room, where a short, middle-aged woman with chestnut brown hair sits, thumbing through the latest issue of Trend Magazine. When she notices me, her head shoots up and she tucks the magazine under a stack of papers.

“Welcome. What can I do for you today, miss…?” she pauses, studying my face. “Are you a resident here?”

“I’m not. I have an 11 a.m. meeting with the Rhys family for their nanny position. My name is Riley Brooks.”

She eyes me incredulously. “You seem a little young to be a nanny,” she huffs, then flips through an appointment book. “Ah yes, Miss Brooks. The Rhys are expecting you. Take the elevator up to the Penthouse level. Someone will be there to let you in.” She nods her head toward the elevator on the right side of the room and returns to her magazine.

I make my way through the lobby and step onto the elevator. I take a deep breath and press “PH,” my hands trembling slightly. The car jolts and begins its ascent to the top floor. I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text to my best friend and roommate Hana, filling her in.

I smile, tucking the phone back into my purse as the elevator car arrives at the top. The door glides open and I step out into the foyer. As I walk through to the main part of the penthouse, I’m immediately blown away by how elegant this place is. The main floor is a massive open cellar with impressive double-height ceilings. The interior has a fresh and modern style, flooded with natural sunlight coming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. A set of heels clicking on the marble tile breaks me from my trance and I turn to see a stunning woman with a shoulder-length blonde bob coming in my direction. She’s around my height with a slim build. Her black polka dot blazer and red pants hug the curves of her body. Her emerald green eyes are piercing as they look me up and down.

“Ah. You must be the new nanny. I’m Madeleine Karlington,” she says, extending her manicured hand. I take it in mine and give her a hearty shake. “Come. Everyone else is in the living room,” she says, pulling back her hand before turning and heading back in the direction she came.

I follow behind her, taking in the penthouse. She leads me through the large eat-in kitchen with imported counters and top-of-the-line appliances, to the living room. A wood-burning fireplace adorns the only wall without windows. Three large floor-to-ceiling windows give me an unobstructed East, South, and West view showcasing the East River and every iconic landmark midtown building in the city. The sun casts a warm glow through the already bright room. There’s no way a family with children lives here. The room is all-white-everything.

I turn away from the windows to my left and see a tall man with sandy blonde hair rise from the plush white sofa. Good lord, he’s an Adonis. He’s at least six foot four, his thick blond hair is parted slightly on the left side of his head, his high cheekbones shape his beautiful face. His sapphire blue eyes glitter, making any woman who looks into them weak in the knees. His soft pink lips frame his straight white teeth, making his smile to-die-for. He’s wearing a maroon sweater over a white dress shirt, and dark denim jeans. Through his sweater, I can make out the outlines of his muscles. He definitely works out. I’m pulled from my daydream to see a young boy and girl both with platinum locks staring me down from their hiding place behind their father’s legs.

Before anyone can speak, Madeleine introduces me to her family. “This is Riley. She’s here to interview for your new nanny. Please be respectful.” She motions me to the center of the room where the sofa and a matching loveseat and chair are sitting in a semicircle with a glass-top coffee table in the center. Liam and the children take a seat on the sofa. I sit down in the chair and smile at the kids. Madeleine sits down on the loveseat and turns to me.

“So, Riley. Tell us a little bit about yourself,” she says, leaning forward to retrieve a martini from the coffee table. She then sits back and takes a long pull from her glass.

I take a deep breath. “Well, I’m 25. I’m originally from Brooklyn, I have a BS in Early Childhood Education from NYU Steinhardt. I was going to become a teacher, but I took a job with the nanny agency to pay for school and ended up falling in love with it. I’ve been a nanny full-time for two years now, and I’m really looking forward to getting to know all of you,” I smile, turning towards the kids, who are curled up next to their father on the sofa. My eyes travel up to his face, and his blue eyes sparkle as he smiles at me.

“Riley, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Liam, and this is Charlotte and Phillip. Charlotte is six, Phillip is four,” he says, wrapping an arm around each child, snuggling them close to his body.

As he speaks, I catch myself fantasizing about him. I imagine those blue eyes staring into mine as I rip off his sweater and run my hands down his broad chest. My pulse races as I think about kissing those lips. My eyes travel down the length of his torso to his hands as they rest on each child’s shoulder. His hands are just as perfect as the rest of him, long fingers ending in short, clean nails. I pause at how big they are. He’s a tall guy, so I’m not surprised by their size, but I’m shocked at just how big they are. My mind reverts to that old saying, “Big Hands, Big Feet…” and I feel a blush creep up my face. Stop it. He’s your potential boss.

Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I focus my attention on the kids. Charlotte, the six-year-old, has her mother’s stunning emerald green eyes and a head of platinum blonde hair pulled into two pigtail braids that rest on her shoulders. Her pudgy cheeks are tinted a rosy pink and her nose curves up at a slight point. She’s wearing a light green dress with a blue bow and white sandals. Judging by how her mom looks, she’s going to be a knockout when she grows up. Phillip, the four-year-old, has a mess of sandy blonde hair atop his head, and the same sapphire blues as his dad. His pert nose sits on his face, nostrils caked with a thin-layer of snot.

I straighten up and turn my attention back to Liam and then Madeleine. “So, tell me more about yourselves,” I say. Madeleine looks to me, then Liam, then back to me. “Well, I work in PR for Fydoria Communications and Liam is CEO of Cordonia Enterprises. We’ve lived in this penthouse for about seven years. Liam spends about 50/50 time between the office and here, so occasionally, you’ll see him around the house, but he’ll be working, so you’ll need to tend to the children full-time. I work from 7 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., so I’m usually here around six to relieve you of your duties. We won’t require you to work on weekends unless something comes up where both of us are unavailable, and we’ll try to give you twelve hours notice.”

“Okay,” I reply. “Can you tell me about what my duties with the kids will be?”

Liam chimes in. “Charlotte is starting first grade at Stormholt Elementary in a few weeks, and Phillip stays home so you’ll be with him full-time while Charlotte’s in school. We’ll need you to drop her off at 8 a.m. and pick her up at 3:30 p.m., as well as help her with her homework and handle snacks,” he says.

I nod. “Do you have a vehicle I can use for pick-ups and drop-offs? I don’t drive.”

Madeleine answers, “We have a town car and a driver at your disposal. You can use them any time you have the children. The driver lives in an apartment here in the building and he’s on-call during work hours, so you can just call him and he’ll take you where you need to go.”

I listen intently, absorbing every bit of information about the job. Take the kids to school, pick them up, feed and tend to them until their parents get home. Seems easy enough. “Will I be required to cook or clean anything while I’m here?” I ask.

Liam chuckles and shakes his head. “No. We have a cleaning service that comes on Saturdays, and our personal chef Mira comes on Sundays. The only cooking and cleaning you’ll need to do is to prepare snacks for the kids and pick up any mess you or they make.”

Charlotte starts tugging on his Liam’s shirt, “Daddy. I’m bored,” she whines, while Phillip rubs his eyes and stifles a yawn. He looks down at the children, then across to Madeleine, whose expression is unreadable. “The kids are getting fidgety which means it’s almost naptime. Do you have any questions for Riley?” he asks her.

She downs the rest of her martini and sets the glass on the table. “We’ve already done an extensive background check on her through the agency, so I know she’s not a criminal. I also have copies of her resume and college transcript, so I know her credentials are legitimate. If you don’t have any other questions, I think we’re finished here.”

Liam’s lips curl into a grin and he turns his attention to me, “I have just one more question. When can you start?”

#trr au #trr fanfic #liam rhys #madeleine karlington #riley brooks #the royal romance #playchoices fanfic #something domestic #nanny au #nazariolahela fanfic

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aaarianna-actuallywrites · 5 years

Text

Over A Cherry Cosmos, Part 1

I wrote this as part of the Edens Zero Fic Exchange for @indraaas. Hope you like it! (Part 1 of 3)

“Here,” the voice of Lieutenant Justice, Rebecca’s direct supervisor, spoke as a file smacked down on her desk.

“What’s this?” Rebecca asked, reaching for the file.

“Your next bounty. You said you wanted a challenge; Weisz Steiner, high-ranking member of Sibir’s gang, and a thief wanted across nearly half the country. Every bounty hunter that went looking for him couldn’t catch him.”

“Every bounty hunter so far,” she corrected. “I’m on it, sir.”

Lt. Justice only nodded and returned to his office.

Rebecca opened the file to see Weisz Steiner’s mugshot: blond hair coiffed to the side, a half-amused, half-annoyed smirk on his face, and a flirty glare thrown at the camera with steel gray eyes. From the angle of his head, she could just barely see enough to guess that he was leaning against the wall as if he were leaning against a tree in the park.

‘He’s pretty cute.’

Her eyes scrolled down to the section about his family background, muttering quietly to herself as she read.

“Mm.. Only child… Mom is.. Maria Steiner, deceased…”

When Rebecca first caught the father’s name out of the corner of her eye, she nearly gave herself whiplash with how fast she did a double take.

“Doctor… Weiss Steiner… No way...”

‘The old Doctor has a son?’ she thought.

Memories came flooding to the surface of her mind: running into the street after her little blue cat Happy, the swerving car with screeching tires that seemed to come out of nowhere just as she caught up to him. Then, she was weightless, flying through the air for what felt like forever.

She didn’t remember hitting the ground. Only waking up in the hospital the next day.

“Where’s Happy?” a seven-year-old Rebecca demanded of the old doctor in front of her.

“Happy?” Doctor Steiner asked.

“M-my kitty. We were playing and he ran away from me, so I chased him. And-” she paused, tearing up, though she pretended she wasn’t. “I-I don’t remember what happened after that.”

The look that came over Doctor Steiner’s face was one Rebecca had seen from a lot of adults: a tight smile, slight tilt to the head, squinted eyes. It usually meant something she couldn’t name, but definitely didn’t like. And it always left her feeling frustrated and small.

Except this time, Doctor Steiner looked sad, too.

But in a flash, that awful, hated, and now confusing look was gone, replaced with a wide smile.

“Well, I sure don’t know, little one, but I can ask the nice people that brought you in if you want?”

Rebecca blinked in shock as his offer sunk in. Then, grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating in her hospital bed, she shouted, “Yes, please!”

She quickly covered her mouth when she realized how loud she’d been on accident. She looked at Doctor Steiner, eyes wide and half curled in a ball, waiting for him to scold her for yelling.

Instead, he gave her a kind smile, one she couldn’t remember ever seeing before, especially not from an adult.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” the Doctor said, patting her gently on the head.

Rebecca smiled at the memory.

‘How can I arrest the son of the man who saved my life?’ she thought, her smile faltering. ‘I know it’s my job, but…’

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, stretching her neck in the process.

‘First thing’s first. I need more information.’

Rebecca stood up, grabbing her messenger bag from the back of her chair. She slung it over her shoulder and tossed Weisz Steiner’s file inside as she left the precinct.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’cha got for me, Quinn?” Rebecca asked her friend and professional hacker.

“Well, he’s old fashioned,” Quinn said without looking up from her deep dive into Weisz Steiner.

Rebecca shook her head in confusion. “What?”

“No social media whatsoever. Even eighty-year-olds have Twitter these days.”

Quinn turned her chair around to face Rebecca, grabbing a coffee mug as she spun. Rebecca could tell that it was the hacker’s “Special Hot Chocolate” by the smell, the secrets of which she kept hidden behind a firewall the NSA itself couldn’t crack.

“Seriously, who doesn’t use social media these days? Even if it’s for no other reason than to keep up with the news?” Quinn shook her head in disbelief as she sipped on her drink.

“Not important. What did you find?”

Quinn raised her eyebrows. “Mm! Right.” She spun back around to face her main monitor. “So, I think I found a place where he likes to hang out. Edens Bar. Only two of the multiple credit cards he’s stolen in the last six months have turned up charges there, as opposed to him crawling over half of the bars in Norma.”

“So what makes you think he’s there? Maybe he just got kicked out or something.”

Quinn shook her head. “Nah. I hacked into their security cameras and found footage of him at the bar.”

“Of course,” Rebecca sighed. “Look, I know it’s not a big deal to you, but can you at least not openly mention the illegal hacking you’re doing for me directly to me? I need plausible deniability!”

Quinn waved off her concerns. “Don’t worry. Even if they could catch me, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you from my new seat at the NSA. Anyway, he seems on good terms with the staff, so he wasn’t banned.”

Rebecca groaned, but let it slide. Even if she gave Quinn trouble for it, she knew that she’d never be caught.

“Plus, I found footage of him there that doesn’t line up with any cards he’s been linked to, so it’s more likely that he’s just trying to keep people from tracking him there. Which is backed up by the fact that I tracked him with traffic cams before he showed up to Edens Bar and he’s checking for tails two miles out. And he takes the scenic route there.”

“Pretty solid plan,” Rebecca admitted.

“Yeah, until someone smarter came along,” Quinn said smugly.

Rebecca laughed. “Thanks, Quinn. Can you keep an eye on the bar and let me know when Weisz shows up again?”

“Of course.”

“Awesome,” she said. “Oh, and can you do one more thing for me?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Rebecca flexed her fingers in an attempt to shake away the anxiety. ‘This is research,’ she told herself. ‘In order to find a wanted criminal… Who is the son of the doctor who saved my life..’

“Damn it,” she muttered to herself, dropping her head on her steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of her car.

‘It’s not too late to turn around and drive away,’ her thoughts taunted her.

Chants of ‘it would be easy,’ ‘no one would ever know,’ and ‘Quinn can probably find out all you need’ stayed glued in Rebecca’s mind as she stalked forward. Instead, she tried to focus on anything else, her eyes fixating on the row of expensive houses in front of her.

They were all wide two-stories, mostly white or off-beige, occasionally lined with light hints of pastels for what Rebecca assumed these rich idiots called “flavor.” It was simultaneously extravagant and so boringly tasteless that she wondered how anyone could think it was nice to look at.

‘Exactly like the rich owners. All style, no substance. It feels like I’m looking at the wall of a padded cell.’

She finally reached the end of Doctor Steiner’s walkway and stopped, looking again at the house in front of her.

Compared to the rest of the nearly-identical houses on the street, his was easily the nicest to look at. The house itself was a very subtle off-yellow color, almost impossible to tell from a distance, accented with a light pastel baby blue color that outlined the windows and covered the pillars in the front. As she got closer, she noticed the front door was also the same shade of blue.

Rebecca tapped her leg as she stood in front of Doctor-turned-Professor Steiner’s door, working up the courage to knock. After nearly a minute of frantic leg-tapping, she finally forced herself to.

‘No backing out now,’ she thought. Her fingers were starting to get tired from tapping so much.

A few seconds later, the lock turned and the door opened.

“Can I help you, Miss?”

“Um, yeah,” she took a slow breath. “Are you Doctor Weiss Steiner?”

“Yes.” His eyes narrowed slightly, but didn’t say anything else.

“I’m Rebecca Blue-Garden. I’m a Bail Enforcer and I’m tracking your son, Weisz.” She had to fight to keep her voice even as she spoke. “I was hoping there might be something you could tell me about him.”

He blinked. “Such as?”

“Anything you think might be useful in bringing him in safely would be a good start.” Rebecca realized she’d been twisting her fingers together and forced herself to stop.

Doctor Steiner smiled kindly, and it matched up almost perfectly with the smile in her memory. “I don’t think I know anything that could help you.”

“A-are you sure? Nothing at all comes to mind?”

‘I read that Weisz ran away when he was fifteen in his file, but I thought that I’d at least get something useful from his dad.’

“I wish I could help you, Miss Blue-Garden, but I’m afraid not. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more use.”

He started to close the door. “G-”

“Wait!”

Doctor Steiner raised an eyebrow.

Rebecca sighed. “Y-you saved my life when I was a kid. And I’ve always wanted to thank you in some way, but I didn’t know how I could. I didn’t want or expect this..” She waved her hand around. “.. situation.”

“I.. operated on you?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah. I was playing with my little blue cat Happy when a drunk driver hit me. You even offered to ask the paramedics that brought me in if they saw him. Looking back now, it’s obvious that he… but it meant a lot to me back then.”

“You were the little girl with the blue cat? … Now that I think about it, your name does sound familiar..”

She tried to contain her rush of excitement.

“Come in,” he said, smiling with warmth and opening the door wider.

Rebecca blinked as she processed the offer. It’d been more or less what she wanted, but it surprised her that she actually got it. Then, she returned his smile and stepped through the door.

“So, you’re a Bail Enforcer?”

“Yep.”

Rebecca tried to calm her nerves. ‘What was my plan again?’ she thought, flexing her fingers at her sides. ‘Did I even have a plan?’

“And you’re looking for my son?”

“... Yep.”

‘This was a bad idea.’

Doctor Steiner chuckled sadly before speaking again. “Well, I wish I could help you, but I haven’t seen, much less spoken to my son in… almost ten years.”

“I see..”

‘He never once tried to contact his dad? I mean, I know I kinda assumed that was the case, but… hearing it confirmed makes me a little sad for the Doctor.’

“Weisz left when he was still a teenager, but even before then he wasn’t very talkative.”

Rebecca nodded slowly, following silently as he led the way to the living room. Doctor Steiner gestured to the couch as he sat down in a recliner chair a few feet away.

“So, how long have you been a Bail Enforcer?”

“Huh? Oh, about three years, now. Why do you ask?”

Doctor Steiner hesitated. “About how many of the people you’ve arrested ran away from home when they were younger?”

Rebecca paused. Broken homes weren’t exactly an uncommon denominator across all of the bounties she’s hunted down, but she didn’t want to sound like she was accusing the Doctor of being the reason his son ran away.

‘Maybe their relationship sucks and he doesn’t care about his son getting arrested.. That would make me feel less like a complete ass about doing my job…’

“Um.. Well, I don’t know numbers, but there’s been a few. It’s not rare.”

Doctor Steiner only hummed in response, eyes narrowed and slightly hunched over. Looking at him now, Rebecca could barely see the jovial doctor that saved her life; instead, all she saw was a worn down and sad old man.

‘Ugh, crap! I can’t do anything right today, can I?’

“Hm. I wonder why they felt the need to leave.”

The quiet, contemplative look on his face pulled at Rebecca’s heartstrings.

“Weisz was headstrong, stubborn… and full of hot air.”

She chuckled. “Aren’t all teenagers full of hot air?”

“Usually. But… I just wonder what was going through his head. I’ve always wondered why he left in the first place.” Doctor Steiner’s hard gaze at the floor became unfocused, distracted by his thoughts. “Or maybe I kind of already know. We couldn’t seem to see eye-to-eye. And I know that Maria’s family didn’t make it any easier. Maria was my wife, and Weisz’s mother,” he added.

Rebecca swallowed hard, nodding slowly. She didn’t know what she could say in response. Doctor Steiner’s entire being seemed steeped in sadness; the kind of bone-deep sadness that never truly goes away.

“Sorry, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay.”

“You’re wondering what happened.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Well…” she trailed off. ‘Yeah, sort of.’

Doctor Steiner hummed. “Well, Weisz was always a troublemaker. He got into it a lot as a kid, and evidently, that’s never changed.. But Maria was always patient with him. Much more so than the rest of her family.”

Rebecca tried to hide her grimace, but the corner of her mouth still twitched.

“I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging. But they were… notoriously difficult to deal with. Any time Weisz got in a fight or let his grades slip, someone had something to say about it. Of course, never to us. But Weisz took notice.”

Doctor Steiner heaved a tired sigh.

“One day, he overheard a… particularly nasty comment from Maria’s sister. But before anyone could say anything else, he decided he’d finally had enough, I suppose, and he started yelling at them. When he finished, he said that… everyone would be happier if he left. And then he did.”

Rebecca bit the inside of her lip. She could practically hear him blaming himself.

‘People like that are impossible to please. They didn’t want Weisz to be a person, they wanted him to be a puppet.’

“I hoped he was just blowing off steam. He left before anyone could say anything to him. So I waited for him to come back, but… he didn’t,” Doctor Steiner sighed again. “And then, about eight months later… Maria died. I had hoped he’d go to the funeral, although it was probably for the best that he didn’t, in the end.”

She nodded. ‘His mom’s family are a bunch of judgmental dicks. I feel for him on that.’

A vibrating in her back pocket brought Rebecca to reality. Pulling out her phone, she saw Quinn’s name flash on the screen.

“My friend’s calling, I should take this,” she said, smiling politely as she stepped away. “Hello?”

“Hey, your criminal’s on his way to Edens.”

“Okay, thanks. Keep an eye on it.”

“I will. Want me to call Shiki and Homura?” Quinn offered, followed by the distant sound of her sipping on a drink.

“No, it’s fine,” Rebecca said, uttering a quick goodbye before hanging up. She walked back to the couch. “Okay,” she muttered. “Well, I should get going. It was nice talking to you.”

“Wait. Before you go,” Doctor Steiner said, standing quickly. “I was hoping you might be able to do me a small favor.” He walked to a nearby desk and pulled a pen and a pad of sticky notes from it, scribbling something.

“What is it?” she asked.

“If it’s at all possible, I was hoping…” he pulled the top sticky note off. “I might be able to see my son. I don’t know if you can do that, but I just want to talk to him again, and tell him something.”

Rebecca took the sticky note from him to see a phone number on it. She folded it carefully and stuck it in her phone case.

“I’ll do my best,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, Miss Blue-Garden.” He walked with her back to the front door.

She nodded at him as she stepped outside.

‘Okay, Weisz Steiner. I am gonna get you into a conversation with your dad, even if I have to drag you by your pompous hair to do it.’

~~~~~~~~~~

Rebecca adjusted the rose barrette in her hair and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Before going to Edens Bar, she changed into a black mini skirt, over the knee boots, and a blue halter top. Now, she made her final subtle adjustments before walking up to the empty seat next to her bounty.

“This seat taken?” she asked, with a sweet smile on her face. Rebecca made sure to throw a subtle, yet impossible-to-miss flirty glance his way.

“No. Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” she said as she slid into the bar chair. “What’s your name?”

“Weisz.”

“I’m Rebecca.”

Weisz flashed her a flirty smirk reminiscent of the one in his mugshot, and she had to correct an earlier thought.

‘Shit. He’s not cute, he’s hot.’

“Just a Cherry Cosmos, please.”

“So, what are you doing in this little bar?” Weisz asked, taking a sip of beer.

“I’m.. expanding my horizons. I’ve been in Norma for a while, but I haven’t really been a whole lot of places.”

Weisz leaned in. “If you want, I can give you a few places to check out.”

Rebecca mimicked him, leaning forward and slowly pulling her handcuffs out of her bag and under the bar. “Are you offering to show me these places yourself?” she flirted as she slid her hand closer to his.

“Well, if you want-”

The click of the cuffs closing around his wrist cut him off. Rebecca closed the other cuff around part of the underside of the bar.

“Well that’s not exactly how I prefer to be asked out on a date, but…”

Rebecca chuckled. “Funny.”

“I assume these aren’t for fun?” Weisz asked.

“Nope.”

“Too bad,” he sighed. “Will you at least let me finish my drink?”

Rebecca eyed the beer bottle in front of him. ‘Less than half full,’ she thought.

She sighed. “I guess.”

He sipped his beer calmly.

“Y’know, for someone who’s as high up in Sibir’s gang as you, I gotta say, you’re taking this whole ‘getting arrested’ thing pretty well.”

Weisz’s easy going smile faltered, fixing Rebecca with a cold stare. “I’m not with Sibir anymore.”

“Fine. You’re still under arrest,” she said flippantly. “I don’t know why so many other bounty hunters couldn’t catch you before, this was pretty easy.”

Weisz finished his beer, setting the empty bottle on the bar as he leaned towards her again. “If I may, Rebecca, I just have one question for you: how are you going to arrest me when you’re the one in handcuffs?”

Rebecca looked down at the space between them just in time to watch Weisz clasp the handcuff, previously on him, around her wrist.

“What-?”

She looked up at him, stunned. He winked at her, then leaned in.

“Drive safe, Rebecca.”

And then he was slipping out the door.

Rebecca sighed, turning back towards the bar to unlock herself when she noticed that Weisz had left enough money for both of their drinks.

‘He’s a thief, but he left money for the tab? A little “Robin Hood,” if you ask me.’

Her phone vibrated in her bag as she finished unlocking the handcuffs. Rebecca had barely put the phone up to her ear when Quinn started talking.

“Y’know, you never realize how much easier social media makes my job until you find that rare specimen without it and I have to actually try a little.”

“Meaning?” Rebecca asked, too annoyed for pleasantries as she stood and walked out of the bar.

“I was looking into Sibir’s gang, trying to see if there was something you might be able to use, and I just found out that-”

“That Weisz and Sibir aren’t ‘buddy-buddy’ anymore? Yeah, he just told me.”

“Okay, but did he say why?” Quinn asked.

Rebecca paused just outside the door. “No. Do you know?”

“Yeah. It’s messed up stuff, Becca. You know his mom died, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s all his file said about her.” She set out towards the small parking lot next to the bar.

“Well, I hacked the text messages of a few of Sibir’s guys and found out that, apparently, after Doc Junior joined up with Sibir, it was Sibir who did the hit and run that killed his mom, but he tagged the place with Rogue Out’s logo. Guess he wanted to cut off Weisz’s escape route. But when Weisz found out...”

“That’s… awful.” Rebecca’s hand hovered over her heart.

“Anyway, what’s happening at Edens?”

The hand over her heart tightened into a fist. “He got away,” Rebecca grumbled as she unlocked her car. “We’re gonna need to come up with a new plan.”

#Edens Zero #Edens Zero Fanfic #Weicca #Edens Zero Fic Exchange #Over A Cherry Cosmos #OACC Part 1

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timetoresurface · 5 years

Text

EXCHANGE (7) / JJK

to give something and receive something of the same kind in return

Note: First of all I want to thank @rumpucis for always liking and just being enthusiastic whenever I update. Second thing I want to talk about is my upcoming holiday to Greece. I will be gone from tonight until the 31st of May and I’m not taking my laptop on this well deserved trip. I really want to read books again instead of writing and struggling with my own fan fiction stories. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing but it takes up a lot of my time (I work full time and have a lot of social obligations) so I will reward myself with a little writers break while I’m tanning and swimming the salty sea of Kos. Don’t worry, I'll be back with more as I know what I want to write next for a change.

Pairing: reader x Jungkook

Genre: romance, non idol AU

Warnings: none

Word count: 2560 words

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / PART 5 / PART 6

Summary: Yes, you are an exchange student. You noticed EF also organized trips to Seoul and you wanted something different than the same five people in your hometown. You came to the beautiful city to learn and relax, most definitely not to fall in live with one of the teachers. Definitely not the young extracurricular teacher who seemed to be good at everything.

*Y/N = your name *Y/C = your city/country

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The morning is as assured as the tides and just as unstoppable. You need a few more hours of blackness. Not to sleep, but to prepare, to reorganize your thoughts and to make sense of the events of last night. But already you can see the chaos that is your room, the dark outline of the dirty clothes on your dresser and the tall lamp you always trip over in the dark. Soon there will be color and traffic noises, the smell of other residents making coffee and toast and your roommate waking up.

You don’t understand why you’re nervous about meeting up with Jungkook. You had already spend a great time hanging out with him solo. You had already kissed and felt a little too much of each other. Still, you were a nervous wreck about today’s activities. You both agreed to spend the day together walking through Seoul after barely five hours of sleep. You had tried to hide the bags under your eyes but failed miserably. Sunglasses will have to do today.

A soft knock on your door surprised you and you almost woke up your roommate by tripping over the tall lamp. Silently a curse escaped your lips while you tried to find everything you needed. Your little bag was already filled with more than you needed but you still wanted to take your camera with you.

There was another knock on your door and you instantly found the camera you were looking for. You were shocked he was perfectly on time as he looked like a young man who really needed his sleep.

“Hi Jungkook!” You answered his continuing knocking on your door. His cheeks were turning red but you simply ignored his cuteness and locked your door.

“I wasn’t sure if you were awake because there was no sound whatsoever.” He awkwardly shifted his leg.

“I was trying to keep the noise down so I wouldn’t wake up my sleeping roommate.” You tried to explain to him in a whisper.

“That sounds reasonable and also nice of you. Most people don’t care if they wake up their roommates in the early mornings.” He whispered back to you with a huge grin on his face.

“It is not that early though.”

“It is early enough to need coffee to be a normal functioning human being.” A coffee cup was put in your hand and you gladly accepted his offer.

“Thanks for the coffee. This will be a huge life saver today.” You tried to take a sip but it was still too hot to comfortably drink it.

“Is there any specific place you want to go too?” He asked you while holding his cup in between his both hands, enjoying the warmth it brought him.

“Not really, I want to see everything if that is possible?” You might have a file on your phone of everything you wanted to do and see in Seoul. But it would be more fun if Jungkook showed you his favorite places, you thought. Or maybe explore some new places for the both of you. All was good.

“We’ll need more days though.” His laugh was still as contagious as yesterday and as the day before. His spell wasn’t going to be wearing off anytime soon.

“I’m staying for another three weeks so we’ll have more days.” It might have sounded like a lighthearted comment but your heart wasn’t too happy with this fact. Jungkook took a sip form his coffeecup while hiding his face from you. He might feel the same. Three weeks is really nothing if you’re spending it with someone you’re going to leave behind. Why waste time when it is going to end into a hundred broken pieces.

“What are we waiting for? Seoul is waiting for me.” You tried to lighten the mood again and held out your hand to him. Jungkook gladly accepted your offer and that’s kind of how it started. His hand was going to be there for the rest of the day, leading you to touristic places and guiding you through his favorite neighborhoods.

After a few hours of walking and taking pictures, you both halted to get some ice cream. The weather was exceptionally good today so he took you to the river where he knew a great spot for ice cream eating. The only spot where you were allowed to eat the cold dessert, or at least according to him. Ice cream should always be combined with a great view otherwise the taste just wouldn’t be the same.

His fingers were rubbing circles into your hand while he was talking to the person selling ice cream. You were surprised he kept rubbing and acknowledging your hand while he was in such a crowded place. You didn’t notice at first, but everyone kept staring at your intertwined hands. As if a European girl was not allowed to touch a Korean boy. As if you were the strangest and most discussing combination there was.

“Here you go. Chocolate and raspberry as requested.” You quickly licked the ice-cream to right it, it had begun to slump precariously to one side and there was nothing worse than loosing an entire scoop to the dirty sidewalk. You followed Jungkook to his favorite spot and you couldn’t help but to admire his perfectly defined back. His t-shirt was a bit too big but it didn’t hide his muscles. The sudden urge to go and touch him was hard to ignore but you did. You had enough of everyone’s staring eyes, so you simply behaved yourself, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t look.

In your daydream a drop of raspberry made it onto your t-shirt, with a finger you scooped it up. You frowned momentarily at the pink stain before spying Jungkook struggling as much as you did. A laugh escaped your lips and he pinned around with a confused look on his face. The giggle built up inside you like so much water behind a dam, making your shoulders shake and your belly hurt. When it erupted from your mouth it sounded more like a braying donkey as you fought to breathe and stifle the tears.

It seemed that Jungkook was also under some kind of spell. Whenever you laughed he had to laugh too and he didn’t even try to hide it. His eyes remained on yours so he hadn’t even noticed the stain on your t-shirt. He didn’t even acknowledge the chocolate stain on his own t-shirt. While giggling you tried to scoop up the ice cream he had dropped onto himself and this finally got his attention away from you.

“Oh this is embarrassing.” He finally said after trying to get rid of the stain.

“Jungkook, look at me.” You tried to get his attention back. His head shot up and looked up at you. It took him a while but he finally realized why you had laughed so hard minutes before. The giggles rolled out of him like the waves on a long shallow beach. They seemed to disappear for a while only to build up and break to the surface once more.

“You’re as much of a mess as I am.” You said with heart eyes aimed at him.

“That’s why I like you, I think.” His sudden confession made the both of you look a way from each other. As if eye contact was going to make this moment more intimate than what you both were ready for.

“Jungkook, I …-“ you tried to start but he was quick to interrupt you.

“I know, just friends right? I realize you’re leaving in three weeks, but I can still like you.” His hand cupped your face and you immediately relaxed to his touch. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed the feeling of his hand on your face, or for that matter anywhere else. All you wanted him to do was touch you and hold you, but that wasn’t really possible.

“Just friends who accidentally kissed all night.” You said with cheeks as pink as the blooming cherry blossoms in the background.

“If you want to pretend nothing happened, I’ll agree because I respect your opinion and feelings. But otherwise, I really wouldn’t mind kissing you again and again.” His hand left your face and you already missed the warmth even though it was scorching hot in the afternoon sun.

“Aren’t your lips still swollen from yesterday, maybe you need to have a day off of kissing foreign students.” You felt like teasing him. You wanted to test him if he really wanted to kiss him again so you took a step closer over to him. Your face only a breath away from each other.

“I kissed one and she’s only here for a couple of weeks so I really won’t like a day off.” His hand stroked the side of your arm leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“Everyone’s staring, Jungkook.” You finally snapped after taking a step back. Were you were from nobody really seemed to care if two people were a bit more relaxed with each other, but here in busy Seoul everyone were sending you judging looks. Maybe it was because you weren’t Korean, or maybe it was because you two were a bit too intimate to their liking.

“Since when do you do things waiting for someones approval.” His eyes were dark and needy and it took all of you to not just jump onto him and kiss his perfectly swollen lips. Because of the alcohol last night you don’t exactly remember how he tasted, how he touched your body while keeping his tongue in your mouth. You so badly wanted to do it all over again to savor his flavor and keep it locked in your mind for the rest of your life. But you couldn’t do that. If you kissed him one more time you knew you would be hooked, and you were trying to avoid having feelings for him that were too deep.

“You don’t know me that well, Kookie. I don’t know if you like me or the idea of me being foreign and therefore more exciting? Or isn’t that what young Koreans think of us?” You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you wanted to have a fight with him, but is suddenly was there and it wasn’t anything you could ignore.

“That’s not what I …-“ Jungkook tried to explain but this time you were ready to interrupt.

“Maybe that’s why everything is going so fast because you know I’m leaving in three weeks. What is it that you want? Some adventure? Because I can not give you what you’re looking for.” You tried to keep your voice down as you both already got too much attention from the locals and tourists.

“Y/N please no, that’s not what I want.” He tried to start but you already turned around and threw your melted ice cream in the nearest garbage can. The moment you entered the never-ending and never stopping crowd he lost sight of you.

There was no logical explanation for your actions. The only thing you could think of was for the both of you to stop interacting so you could get over him before leaving. Maybe it was an internal safety mechanism trying to save you from heartbreak, but in this moment you weren’t really sure if it had saved you or caused you more pain.

“Y/N? Are you inside? Can I come in? Are you dressed?” Alfie screamed from the other side of your door. You quietly got out of bed and opened the door for him.

“What do you want?” You grunted.

“Hangover?”

“Not really but something like that.” You weren’t in the mood to explain things to Alfie.

“Love?”

“Definitely not that.” You said a bit too fast which made him realize it most definitely had to do something with Jungkook. His eyes showed a kindness you were really craving at the moment, that certain kindness of a best friend.

“You know I’m not really allowed to be in your room. Let’s go outside and catch the last remaining rays of sunshine.” With a simple nod of your head the both of you exited your room. There was only one remote spot for the two of you to silently discuss anything without being eavesdropped.

“So what’s going on Y/N? What has Jungkook done?” In this moment you were grateful to have a friend like Alfie when everything seemed to go a bit wrong today.

“He didn’t really do anything, I did something.” And that’s how you started to explain the situation. You mentioned the secret hang outs you had previously kept a secret from him. You expressed him your feelings for the Korean boy who stole the hearts of every girl on campus, including your apparently which made you act like a lunatic. You told him about today and how you suddenly exploded and left Jungkook in the middle of Seoul, right at one of his favorite spots to make everything worse.

Alfie listened and hadn’t said a thing which made you realize he was probably taking Jungkook’s side. Of course he did, who wouldn’t?

“It seems like you tried to help yourself but actually made everything worse for everyone. You exploding on him made you realize you kind of fancy him and now you’re here with me instead of kissing the boy you want to kiss.” He carefully selected his words, trying to calm the mess that you were.

“I don’t think he would let me kiss him again. What kind of weirdo am I? He should run from me if he’s smart.” You dropped your head in both your hands and immediately hated the dramatics but these were dramatic times.

“Stop acting like everything is ruined. Just go up to the boy and apologize. If he really likes you, and it seems like he really does, he would instantly forgive you and kiss your pouting mouth.” He did make a lot of sense and the wheels in your head started to come up with a plan.

“I’m saying you need to move now! Go to his place, which you apparently know the location of, and talk to the guy. He has shown you nothing but respect.” He lifted you up your feet but you weren’t ready to go yet.

“is this smart?” He looked taken aback by your question but quickly composed himself again.

“You might work things out but you’re not there yet. Enjoy life and enjoy the body of the man you have the biggest crush on.” His words were the perfect motivation to move from your frozen insecure state toward Jungkook’s place. You hadn’t practiced what you wanted to say. You also hadn’t really thought this through but you were in front of his place and couldn’t move. You couldn’t knock and you couldn’t go back to your room.

After a couple of minutes you finally knocked on his door and it immediately opened with a tired Jungkook holding the door. You couldn’t help but to feel responsible for the mess that was in front of you. There were no smiles or blushes, only you awkwardly shifting your weight from one leg to the other. How the heck do you start this conversation?

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olboypacman · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2. Divergent Path (Dark Knights, Darker Queens)

A/N: I own nothing and who knew writing with honorifics could be so tiresome!?

****

Kyoya couldn’t have imagined how good Honey’s bruise has been for business.

He looked on with a subdued smile as Honey sat in the middle of a dozen or so young women. The excess of yellow dresses and combination of his blue uniform jacket made him seem like an in-bloom forget-me-not among a sea of liliums in a large bouquet. Another of the host club’s patrons attempts to play nurse to his diminutive senpai, as he playfully declined sighting sensitivity of the knot.

“Hmm, I wish they’d give him room breath, the vultures,” complained a soft, breathy voice behind him.

He turns, revealing the visage of Reiko Kanazuki, first year student of Ouran Academy, member of the Black Magic Club and occasional guest of the host club. She’s robed in the same colored dress of her classmates and seniors, her arms folded under her chest. The dark-haired girl’s features appeared stressed, concerned about the situation before them in more ways than one, by Kyoya’s guess.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Kanazuki-san, but are you jealous?” Asks Kyoya.

She turns her head abruptly, her hair flowing with the sudden movement. She narrows her dark grey eyes in vexation at the host club’s Shadow King.

His neutral expression betrays nothing as her eyes bore into him.

“Or perhaps I’ve missed my guess,” he said simply.

Reiko sighs, sensing no ill will from Kyoya. “I’m that obvious, huh, Ootori-san?”

“Forgive me for saying so, Kanazuki-san, but I didn’t think your feelings for Honey-senpai were much of a secret.”

“A simple ‘yes’ would’ve sufficed, Ootori-san.”

“Worry not, Kanazuki-san, something tells me the feeling is mutual.”

At that just that moment, Mitsukuni takes a second to look around, his eyes landing on the duo of Kyoya and Reiko.

“Look,” Kyoya said, directing his kohai’s attention to their senpai.

He smiles that bright grin that Reiko has come to adore so much.

A smile that’s directed exactly at her.

She returns it, just as her cheeks start to darken, and Mitsukuni returns to entertaining his guests.

“Say,” said Kyoya, disrupting the moment, “you’re usually here a bit later, after Honey-senpai’s regulars have had their fill. Is something happening with the Black Magic Club?”

“Oh, Umehito-senpai dismissed today’s club meet early. His younger cousin is visiting him here and he’s planning on taking her and Kirimi-chan to dinner. They’re the only family she has besides a few close friends in her school. He’s been really jittery about her lately. I can’t imagine why.” Responded Reiko. “Since we’re asking questions, Ootori-san, where’s Mori-senpai? He’s usually right there with Mitsukuni-kun.”

The 3rd son of the Ootori’s then turns his attention to Honey’s bigger cousin, the tall, well-built young man sitting on the cushioned stool of a bay window, as Mori stares out of it, contemplatively.

Kyoya’s expression turns to one of light concern.

Mori’s usually quiet demeanor has recently taken on a contemplative ambiance.

Ever since that karate tournament concluded a few days ago, Mori’s seemed distracted by something.

Maybe it had something to do with Masuta-san and his companion. I was pretty brief with them while fetching Honey and Mori-senpai, thinks Kyoya.

Despite that it’s only been a few days, things have got to the point where it’s become a problem where the club’s patrons are concerned.

Most of the time, when addressed by a customer, Mori would give a hum, a smile, a short response, anything really acknowledging that customer. Now, it would take him practically being yelled at to snap him out of whatever’s distracting him.

Ouran Host Club’s gentle, quiet, steady and stoic giant had become nothing more than a paper weight seated next to Honey, and it showed in his requests.

Patronage for the dark-haired giant had completely fallen off a cliff.

Not that he was the most popular to start with.

As a result, Kyoya had removed Mori from regular requests to avoid any blow back from Mori’s current mood.

“Oh, I recognize that look…” Said Kaoru, walking up to Reiko and Kyoya, as he looked at his senpai knowingly. “Hello, Reiko-chan!”

“Afternoon, Kaoru-kun,” responded the dark-haired girl.

“Oh, and what’s that exactly, Kaoru? You and Honey-senpai seem to know something I don’t, and you two aren’t keen on sharing?” Said Hikaru, as he followed his twin.

“That’s because isn’t their secret to share,” said Tamaki, as he too approached.

“Please, Tamaki. I can see you’re barely containing yourself to go over there and push Mori-senpai into spilling his guts,” responded Kyoya.

“I wouldn’t! I mean, I might’ve been thinking about it!” Exclaimed Tamaki, incredulousness written across his features.

“Senpai, you’re easier to read than a billboard.” Spoke Haruhi with a smile, as she too joined the growing cluster of students. “We should trust him and let Mori-senpai approach us at his own pace. If he wants to talk, he’ll talk.”

At that moment, the door leading into the club opened.

Through the resultant crack, a hooded young man pokes his head through, his eyes obscured by the shadow of his hood and the bangs of his dark-colored wig.

Umehito Nekozawa, third year student at Ouran Highschool and president of the Black Magic Club.

Though the grim look on his face is unnerving for most, the members of the Host Club had come welcome it. Though it usually would melt into a smile in greeting the members of the club by now.

The cloaked young man enters the club, closing the door behind him and pulling his hood off as he does so. He runs his dark contact lens covered eyes over the assorted students present, as if looking for someone. He stops when they land on Mori, then, with a stride of a man possessed, makes a beeline straight toward Mori.

“Um…Hey Senpai,” said Haruhi, making a half-hearted attempt at greeting the upper classman as he blew right past her.

“Takashi-kun?” He intoned, a serious expression on his face.

He’s ignored.

“Takashi-kun?” He attempted once more, uneasiness beginning to creep into his voice.

Ignored.

“Goddamnit! Takashi! What did you do to Oka!? What did you do to my beloved cousin?” Screamed Umehito, shrilly.

His reverie broken, Mori turns to face the occultist, his attention grabbed by the mention of the young woman’s name who’s occupied his thoughts lately.

“Oka? Cousin?” Mori questioned softly.

Patience having ran thin, Umehito grabs Mori by the lapels of his uniform jacket, pulling his classmate face to face. The action loosened the dark colored wig upon Umehito’s head, causing some of his golden locks to fall from underneath it. His eyes were narrowed, forehead wrinkled due to eyebrows being creased in anger and his teeth were barred, giving the usually strange yet sweet young man the look of a fallen angel teetering on the side of its own darkness.

“What curse have you laid upon Oka, you bastard! Huh!? Huh!?” He screamed, as he violently shook Mori.

In between demands of for an explanation or a cure for a curse, Mori manages to mutter, “Oka-Chan? What happened? Is she ok?” In between being berated and swung around by his jacket.

A hush came over the assorted host club’s hosts and guests, as Umehito continued to shake and berate Mori over a presumed slight against Nekozawa’s cousin.

Mori is gentle and patient a person as one can stand to meet, but one can imagine even the most patient person has their limits, especially while being basically assaulted by someone else.

And of course, if there’s someone capable of fighting off being assaulted by someone, its Takashi Morinozuka.

A thought started to creep its way into the mind of all those present.

The photosensitive president of the Black Magic Club may have just signed his own death warrant.

Haruhi moved to interfere, but not before a short, blonde topped blur sped by her.

A pair of small, deceptively strong hands grabbed Umehito and forcefully removed his person from Mori.

Nekozawa released an ‘eep’ of surprise as that same pair of hands moved toward his right arm and as he was thrown to the ground by said arm.

The newly disorientated Umehito looked up at his attacker (read: Mori’s defender) and was met with the bright brown eyes of Mitsukuni Haninozuka.

The diminutive martial artist lets go of the larger boy’s arm, “Perhaps there's something at work more powerful than spells or curses,” said Honey.

Honey then leveled a look at Reiko.

“Mitsukuni…kun,” Umehito managed to utter, as he tried to catch his breath, having had the wind knocked out of him at being tossed to the ground. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Neko-chan! Reiko and I just went through a misunderstanding remarkably similar to this!” Said Honey.

Nekozawa sat up rubbing his head, “Oh,” he said, his eyes then widen in realization, “oh.”

It was then that the double doors to the host club opened once more and revealed a young woman, and the eyes of all present turn to her.

She’s a relatively short girl, about Haruhi’s height, with messy shoulder length dark navy-blue hair and a fringe flowing to the right side of her face. On the subject of her face, she’s wearing a shy, demure expression, as if she’s not comfortable being the center of attention. Her light purple eyes are scanning the room, searching for someone, her head slightly tilted down, the angle of which is slightly obscuring the choker around her neck. She’s dressed a uniform unfamiliar to those present. It’s a black jacket, with matching sailor skirt. The lapels of the jacket are outlined by a red trim. She’s wearing a white dress shirt under the jacket, accented with a red bow, matching the trim of the jacket. She’s also wearing what appears to be a pair of dark gray fingerless gloves with a spider web design and matching leggings.

“Um…Umehito-kun?” She said addressing the downed Black Magic Club president.

****

Oka was under the impression that Akademi was incredibly decadent for a school, but this place.

This place…

Decadent doesn’t even begin to describe it.

The incredibly expansive property (which by the way is large enough to encompass a pre-school, kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and university in addition to the high school), the marble floors, shiny enough to see your refection with the greatest of clarity, 19th century architecture, lush gardens, and fountains that put Akademi’s to shame.

Suffice to say Oka felt like a fish out of water.

Not mention the stares she’s getting from the student body as she makes her way to her cousin.

She was told he was in his club room located in the basement, but the club members had let her know he was in a room he liked to frequent adjacent to music room #3.

Or, was he in music room #3 itself? Thought Oka.

She probably should’ve been listening, but her mind’s been preoccupied with whatever curse that tall, handsome young man put on her the other day.

She’d made the mistake of letting her older cousin know that she may have been cursed by him and Umehito had cursed (though not literally, as far as she knew) Mori inflicting such a fate on his beloved cousin. Looking back, he spoke of Mori as if he knew him.

Oka Ruto was something of an unfortunate soul. Her mother and father both passed away in an accident during her younger years. Left orphaned, Oka basically had nowhere to go and none of her other family would take her in. Luckily, she and her parents were rather close to their first cousins, the Nekozawas.

Umehito and his parents were both devastated at the news of Oka’s parents passing, to the point that they stayed with Oka after the memorial service, as she had mourned her parents long after the actual service concluded.

Eventually it was decided that Oka would be formally adopted by Umehito’s parents, which Oka happily accepted.

However, Oka had refused to move from the home she and her parents shared in Buraza Town until their deaths. Her desire was to remain as close to the spirts of her parents as possible.

Sympathetic to his darling cousin, Umehito had (flexing the problem-solving chops one would expect as a future heir) suggested having one of their servants take care of Oka in the stead of moving in with them. They wouldn’t have to worry about the young Oka being looked after and they would visit her anytime.

She very much appreciated him looking after her needs then and she appreciates his willingness to jump to her defense now, in regard to whatever is happening with Mori.

But something about the situation tells her she might be misjudging it.

The occult obsessed Oka had made that mistake before.

For a time, she was convinced her underclasswoman and now best friend, Ayano Aishi was able convene with and perhaps was demon for a certain amount of time. Ridiculous, right?

Mori didn’t seem to wish her any ill will during their brief encounter. And if she were being honest with herself, the soft-spoken giant was quite charming.

He may have even been flirting with me, thought Oka, as her face flushed at the memory of Takashi gently taking hold of her hand. Maybe I should give him a chance to explain himself.

Oka steels her resolve to speak to Mori upon her next time meeting him, hoping Budo can make the introduction as she continues her walk through the school. She eventually makes her way to the northern hall, the location of music room #3, the most likely location of her older cousin.

She comes to the end of the hall and catches sight of a familiar woman, as she’s standing outside of a set of double doors.

“Hey! Oka-chan!” Yelled Kuretake, Umehito’s loyal and sometimes overly dramatic maid. Dressed in her usual ensemble, expected of one of her station, waives excitedly at Oka. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the limo with Kirimi-chan and Kadomatsu-san?”

Oka walks up to the young woman, “Hello, Kuretake-san,” said Oka, bowing to her.

“Oh, Oka-chan! How many times must I tell you, there’s no need to be so formal. Besides, if anyone should be bowing to anyone it should be me. I mean, I’m technically in your family’s employ as a servant.”

“But,” Oka attempted to interject.

“No! Oka, your part of this family, screw what the old money says,” Kuretake interrupted, a serious, yet sympathetic look on her face.

Oka meets the old woman’s thoughtful gaze and nods. She then goes to answer Kuretake’s question, “Kirimi and I both got a little impatient waiting for you and Umehito-kun. What’s taking him so long?”

“He’s defending your honor,” said Kuretake simply.

“My honor?”

“Yes, the young man you told the young master about is actually an acquaintance of his.”

They then hear the shrill screams of Nekozawa, presumably confronting Mori for supposedly cursing Oka.

“Is it too late to say I’m having second thoughts about being cursed, Kuretake?”

“Oh, I tried to tell the young master you may have been mistaken. It sure doesn’t sound like Morinozuka-san to curse someone. The young master told me how you two met, maybe he liked what he saw?” Finished Kuretake, mischievousness adorning her features.

“Uh… liked…what he saw?” Responded an embarrassed Oka, as she put her hands on her rapidly darkening cheeks.

Kuretake approaches Oka, taking her hands in hers, “Morinozuka-san’s rather handsome, Oka, don’t you think?”

“Um, objectively maybe,” trialed off Oka, looking away from the maid.

“Oh my god! You do, don’t you!?”

Before they can go further in the conversation, they here a thump of someone impacting the floor.

Oka, pushes by Kuretake, wrestling her hands loose, and pushes the doors open.

She’s immediately the center of attention, much to her chagrin, as she scans the room for Umehito.

She locates him sitting on the ground, rubbing his head with Honey standing over him.

“Um…Umehito-kun?” She called out to him.

“Yes, Oka-chan?” He groaned.

“Are you alright?” She asked, concerned for her downed cousin.

“I just need a minute, Oka-chan.”

At that moment, Mori turns his attention to the young lady at the door, “Oka-chan?”

“Takashi-kun, um, hi.” Said Oka. “I, I, …um,”

Kuretake then blows past her towards Umehito, stunning the bumbling Oka (and the rest of the room) into silence. She collects Nekozawa from the ground, hoisting the young man on to her shoulders with startling ease. “Come now, master, you’ve got reservations and you’ve been keeping Oka and Kirimi-chan waiting long enough.”

“But I was…” Umehito tried to say.

“I know, I know, but we must get going.” Replied Kuretake as she made her way to clubroom’s exit. She pulled Oka along by the hand as she crossed the threshold.

“Kuretake! I wanted to talk to him!” She said in protest as she was pulled away.

“Trust me, sweetie. You weren’t ready for that conversation; with the way you were stuttering like that.” Replied Kuretake. “Did you find out anything useful, master?”

“Yes,” Umehito said, “I don’t think that Takashi-kun has it in him to curse Oka-chan or anyone for that matter. I think your intuition was right, Kuretake-san.”

“Funny, Oka-chan and I had just come to that same conclusion.”

“Yeah, after he threw me to the ground for basically assaulting Takashi-kun, Mitsukuni-kun had quipped something along the lines of something more powerful than curses being at work here.”

Kuretake shoots a smile back at the dark-blue haired girl being dragged by the hand behind them. “Yeah, imagine that.”

****

“So, that was Nekozawa's cousin, she's a rather pretty little thing, huh?” Quipped Tamaki.

“Wow, Boss. You've been with Haruhi a short while and already have wondering eye syndrome, for shame,” intoned the twins as they wagged their pointer fingers in judgment of Tamaki in unison with each other.

The accusation brings tears to the eyes of Tamaki. He runs over to Haruhi, enveloping her in an embrace. “Don't listen to those devil twins, my precious Haruhi. Daddy has eyes for you and you alone!” He declared as he rubbed his face against Haruhi's.

“It's no problem, Senpai. I know where your heart lies,” said Haruhi, returning the embrace, but not selling her beau's dramatics. “It’s not like Oka-chan wasn't objectively pretty and you're totally allowed to think other girls are good looking. Besides, with what we do in the host club, if I freaked out every time you called another girl pretty, I don't think I'd ever get a moment's rest.”

“Well I guessed we figured out what’s causing Mori-senpai to act so strange. Senpai’s got a crush!” Said Hikaru.

“It’s a shame Mori-senpai didn’t get to say much before she was dragged away,” said Kyoya.

“I may have an idea as to how we can remedy that,” intoned Honey, “we can visit her!”

“Hm, not to burst your bubble, Senpai, but we don’t know the first thing about her. I doubt she even lives in Bunkyo Ward like the most of us.” Said Kaoru.

“It’s no problem to run a background…” started Kyoya.

“No senpai!” Interrupted Haruhi, “We don’t want to run the poor girl off, just magically showing up at her residence one day, unannounced. I can tell you from personal experience that’s not a good thing.”

“Well, she knows Budo-chan pretty well, so she may go to the same school with him.” Said Honey.

“I think I can help with that.” Said Reiko. “I’m very well acquainted with Oka-chan through our association with Umehito-kun. She lives in Buraza Town, which maybe a 20-minute drive from Bunkyo and she goes to Akademi Highschool. Perhaps you guys can visit her there some time?”

“Perhaps we can,” replied Kyoya, “what do you think Mori-senpai?”

Mori nods his head in the affirmative, the first time he’d acknowledged someone at first glance in a while.

“Then it’s decided. We’ll visit Ruto-san at her school sometime in the near future.” Affirmed the club’s president.

“Field trip! Field trip!” Yelled Honey.

“Tamaki, a second.” Said Kyoya.

“Yes, what is it, Kyoya?”

“That merchandise I talked about has arrived.”

“So, you mean!?”

“Yes, for a limited time, USB drives adorned with pictures of the host club will soon be available. Our patrons will be encouraged to collect all six!”

#yandere simulator #ouran host club #oka ruto #takashi morinozuka #tamaki suoh #Mitsukuni Haninozuka #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #Kyoya Ootori #umehito nekozawa #fanfic #fanfiction #FF.net

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blacklakeinavalley · 6 years

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Left behind – some Holdo/Kylo paralleling

In these shots, Holdo and Kylo/Ben are both small and centered. There are cords lying on the floor, red and white lights, flashy monitors, and an interesting play of light and darkness. Most importantly, both stay at places left by the Resistance (Holdo on the Raddus). This made me curious what else these two characters might have in common. We got:

1) Misleading first impressions, subversion of expectations:

“Not what I expected”, as Poe Dameron puts it. Holdo’s surprise move against the Supremacy changes his opinions on her rapidly though. Sounds like a meta commentary about how Kylo’s/Ben’s character is set up? Only that the last reveal about him is still missing …

2) Special bond with Leia:

Holdo’s and Leia’s friendship is even older than Leia’s and Ben’s mother – son relationship (source: Holdo’s Wookiepedia article). Leia’s “Too many losses. I can’t take any more.” when Holdo declares her plan to stay back on the Raddus even parallels Ben and Amilyn from Leia’s point of view: The general has not only lost soldiers, but also a husband and a son in this war.

3) Splitting things:

Both Holdo and Kylo/Ben save what they love by an act of violence. Holdo protects the Resistance by an act of self-sacrifice. Kylo/Ben, on the other hand, is fed up with sacrificing (to Snoke/the dark side) and choses Rey. I wouldn’t be too surprised thought if we learn in IX that for Kylo/Ben killing Snoke was in fact a sacrifice of some sort. Obviously, Kylo/Ben got himself rid of an abusive parental figure - a parental figure nonetheless, whose approval he clearly sought for not too long ago.

4) (Non-)conformist culture & history nerds with a spiritual touch:

“In her youth, Holdo rebelled against the peaceful culture of her homeworld and expressed herself by dyeing her hair vibrant colors, wearing vibrantly-colored clothing, and going on daring escapades. In spite of that, Holdo showed great interest in esoteric practices of her planet, like meditation and astrology, and she was knowledgeable of the galaxy” (Holdo’s Wookieepedia-article).

In another world, could they have been friends? Teen Holdo and a young Jedi-in-training, practicing calligraphy, struggling for acceptance? Who next to Holdo probably would never have turned to the dark side as an extreme form of protest, would never have re-designed his lightsaber after an ancient model … I think that’s an important point, because, unlike Holdo, Ben originally seems to have been all too eager to please his elders - until the incident with Luke. His former over-adjustment (can you say that in English?) because of his desperate search for love and acceptance mirrors how hard he’s trying to be a dark-side “monster” afterwards (but in fact he just swapped Luke and his parents for a new parental figure he wants to please, namely Snoke).

Does all of this Holdo – Kylo/Ben stuff make sense in the big picture? Well, (self-)sacrifice is a key-concept in Star Wars. In the sequels we already got Han, Luke Skywalker, Holdo, Paige Tico, Finn (trying), nameless soldiers … dying for something they chose to believe in. Kylo/Ben, too, has sacrificed, and sacrificed, and sacrificed. But, unlike the others, he didn’t offer himself and ultimately wanted something back in return (power, the girl). Or so it might seem.

There will be some kind of twist in IX, though. And that something is surely supposed to come as a surprise to most viewers, just like Holdo’s move in TLJ. I am convinced that in IX we will get to see Kylo/Ben acting truly selfless and/or it will be stated explicitly that he believed to be acting for the good of others rather than himself all along. This would fall in line with him being quite misunderstood by most of the other characters and some part of the audience as well (as intended by the filmmakers).

To sum it up: The outlined parallels give more meaning and depth to Amilyn Holdo, whose character was not too well received, and they are just another testament that in IX everyone is supposed to see Kylo/Ben as one of the positive, even heroic figures of the ST and Star Wars in general. If, as Rey put it, Vader was indeed “the most hated man in the galaxy”, and his grandson is really on an inverted journey, then the chances of Kylo/Ben finding some love and recognition in the end seem not too bad.

#kylo ren #ben solo #amilyn holdo #reylo fam #savebensolo #blacklakeinavalley #sorry for the english #but thanks for reading

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k-reviews · 5 years

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2018 IN REVIEW: ALBUMS/EPS

The time has come for us to have a look back on the 2018′s most memorable and impressive albums and EPs. As per usual, it was not possible to listen and to and review every album which dropped this year however conscious effort was made throughout the year to listen to as many as possible and to review them whenever time permitted. Following last year’s format, this list will outline a top list of 10 albums/EPs released this year. The placement of the entries are based on a mix of review scores/critical opinion and my own personal enjoyment and preferences. One entry per artist was permitted.

In case you missed the 2018 Top 15 Singles roundup you can catch that here.

2017 - Singles

2017 - Albums

10. LOONA - [++]

Taking their sweet time before finally uniting, the payoff was mostly worth it; resulting in a tight 6 track EP filled with bubbly ideas that are expressed through its charming production and glistening performances. LOONA demonstrated a commendable degree of versatility in the sounds they approached on ‘[++]’, from the frenetically sweet title track ‘Hi High’ to the soaring ‘Heat’ and the hard hitting impact of pre-release banger ‘Favorite’, LOONA lay down foundations that paint a bright future for the group. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Perfect Love

9. Giriboy - Science Fiction Music

Wasting no time after dropping his most accomplished project yet in last year’s ‘Graduation’, Giriboy stayed busy in 2018 with a myriad of collaborations, singles and a winning stint as a producer on SMTM. ‘Science Fiction Music’ is yet another excellent record, filled to the brim with razor sharp production that bleeds with vibrancy, depth and creativity. Giriboy’s performances remain energetic as ever, working in rapping and singing seamlessly. The guests he brings on the record also shine in their own regard. Giriboy continues to elevate himself above his contemporaries as one of Korea’s most engaging MCs.

Recommended Track: Acrnm (feat. Goretexx)

8. Dreamcatcher - Nightmare: Escape The Era

The rocking girls of Dreamcatcher bring their defining sound to a climax with ‘Escape The Era’, a mostly familiar, but undeniably confident and impactful EP. ‘You And I’ presents gorgeous, open verses with timid, yet emotional vocal melodies that ascend to an explosive chorus. The production across the board has the right amount of polish balanced with just enough grit to give the EP a tangible edge and palpable energy. Flexing effortless vocal performances that work in gorgeous unity with the production, ‘Escape The Era’ is peak Dreamcatcher. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Mayday

7. EXO - Don’t Mess Up My Tempo

Coming through with arguably their best record since ‘Exodus’, even topping that perhaps is EXO’s ‘Don’t Mess Up My Tempo’. EXO once again demonstrate superb vocal performances whether it be in the bravado that carries the electric nature of lead single ‘Tempo’, or the emotive prowess they bring on the sensual ‘24/7′ and airy ‘With You’. The production is more modest, but infinitely rich throughout - ‘Gravity’ being the shining star in this field. ‘Don’t Mess Up My Tempo’ is a very focused effort that plays within very defined sonic borders without ever feeling static, instead its tracklist courses swimmingly. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Gravity

6. BoA - Woman

Seemingly each year, there is just one phenomenal straight-up no twist and turns pop record that sets out to do one thing; make great pop and do so with flying colors. BoA does exactly that with ‘Woman’, her ninth and best album to date. Boasting abundantly colorful production in tracks like the fierce title track and the springing ‘Little More’, the record maximizes what’s fun in the current pop landscape while cutting the fat so that it’s just back to back joyrides. The glittery production aside, ‘Woman’ would not be what it is without the charisma that BoA carries herself with in all of her performances throughout.

Recommended Track: Little More

5. Jonghyun - Poet | Artist

Jonghyun of SHINee’s posthumous album, ‘Poet | Artist’ is a record that incites a myriad of emotions. It brings childish joy in ‘Shinin’ and infectious confidence in ‘Sightseeing’ all leading to the record’s closer ‘Before Our Spring’ which is nothing short of beautiful in its honesty and longing. As always, Jonghyun’s vocal flexibility, and sheer force illuminates the album’s broadly toned production. It can be a confronting listen, but what Jonghyun put together on his final album is ensures that he will be remembered not only for his stature as a successful idol, but as a compelling musician with a kind heart and a sharp ear.

Recommended Track: Take The Dive

4. Simon Dominic - Darkroom: Roommates Only

Finally following up his debut solo project in 2011, Simon Dominic presents the grim and intoxicating ‘Darkroom: Roommates Only’. Despite its heavy tone, it feels like a cathartic listen as Simon D candidly invites the listener into a dark state of mind that is muddied with anxiety, depression and uncertainty. He evokes moods through his masterful writing; blunt and grounded at times, and others he immerses us in his engaging storytelling, often supplemented by haunting performances that hold onto listeners with a suffocating grip. Sonically, Simon D’s harrowing rapping and singing is over very moody, atmospheric production that intertwine with his performances perfectly.

Recommended Track: Demolition Man (feat. Kim Jong Seo)

3. Younha - Rescue

Also making an anticipated return in 2018 was Younha with her fifth full length album, ‘Rescue’. ‘Rescue’ has Younha continuing to show her versatility and adaptability as a singer-songwriter as she approaches this record with a subtle, but atmospheric pop flare. The record is still nicely stocked with dreamy ballads that drown listeners in her luscious and crystalline vocal displays like on the opener. Brighter moments on the record truly sparkle, ‘Feel’ is one of the year’s most uplifting tunes that pulses with joy. Younha successfully unites her signature sound with some of the sounds of today, and none of it feels contrived at all. ‘Rescue’ stands proudly and comparable to her best works such as 2012′s ‘Supersonic’.

Recommended Track: Feel (feat. Chancellor)

2. DAY6 - Shoot Me: Youth Part 1

From the commencement of their EveryDay6 project in 2017, DAY6 have been an unstoppable force and they keep up their momentum with ‘Shoot Me: Youth Part 1′ in 2018. Headed by a fiercely bold lead single of the same name, the record is essentially the foundations laid down in 2017′s ‘Sunrise’ milked to their absolute potential in a compact EP format. The songwriting is incredibly tight and engaging, the performances from the boys both instrumentally and vocally are consistently thrilling and the production is supplemented by nicely toned and textured arrangements. DAY6 hits hard and fast with tracks like ‘Warning’, while also throwing curveballs like ‘Talking To’ in the mix. Whatever you want to label DAY6 as; idol group, idol band, pop rock band, pop punk band - there’s simply no other act doing what they’re doing at this very moment. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Shoot Me

1. Paloalto & Justhis - 4 The Youth

Uniting two of South Korea’s most technically skilled MCs from two different generations of hip-hop, ‘4 The Youth’ presents a strong case to be one for the history books when it comes to hip-hop records. Paloalto’s demonstrates an effortless mastery in adapting beat to beat with his inhumanly smooth flows which glide over instrumentals with a sense of authority and concurrent airiness. On the other hand, Justhis brings a frenetic energy on his hyper-articulate and precise performances that cut through beats like glass. The duo come together on gorgeous and serene beats like the Groovyroom produced ‘Seoul Romance’ and the cold ‘Brown Eyes Views’ with sensitivity and inspiration. Harder hitting songs like ‘Zombies’ and ‘Cooler Than Cool’ is where our MCs let loose on their flows, with back to back highlight verses filled with cut-throat flows and an unparalleled command of attention between the two. The 22 track, 70 minute runtime could’ve divulged into a chore but thanks to tasteful beat selection and the raw talent of Paloalto and Justhis, ‘4 The Youth’ is a monumental hip-hop record, and the most outstanding record of 2018 overall. [Full Review]

Recommended Track: Switch, No Reason, Zombies

#day6 #paloalto #justhis #simon dominic #jonghyun #boa #exo #dreamcatcher #giriboy #loona

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obsidianarchives · 5 years

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Ujima

Ujima - Collective Work and Responsibility; To build and maintain our community together and make our brothers' and sisters' problems our problems and to solve them together.

[Book Year 3]

“It’s our O.W.L. year,” Alicia complained, “Wood can’t possibly think he can set this packed of a practice schedule.”

“Of course he does,” Katie said with a sigh, “When has Wood ever been known to slow down?”

Angelina sat with her teammates on the floor of the Gryffindor common room near the fireplace as they read over the latest Gryffindor Quidditch practice schedule, which Oliver Wood told them at dinner he had been devising over Christmas break. She had immediately gone over to Alicia and Katie after reading it through, sure she had gotten the wrong paper.

She sighed, “I knew he would do this after we lost to Hufflepuff.”

“But he has exams too!” Alicia exclaimed, “There’s no time!”

Angelina set down the color-coded parchment complete with outlines of individual workouts, group practices, and strategic meetings. “I’ll talk to him about scaling back.” They didn’t need more practice. Everyone knew that Harry would have caught the Snitch had the dementors not chosen that moment to see what all the fun was about. She shuddered, reminded of the cold, dark feeling that had washed over her as she’d flown at the Hufflepuff goals.

“Angelina?”

She looked up to see Lavender Brown standing above her, a worried look on her face.

“What’s up?” Angelina asked. The girl rarely spoke to her outside of BSU meetings, which she had only recently begun attending, but Angelina had long since taken it upon herself to be available to all of the younger Black Gryffindors who needed her guidance, as others had been for her.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Angelina folded up Wood’s practice schedule and pushed herself up off the ground. She followed Lavender over to two armchairs just vacated by two first years, wondering what the issue was. Lavender had only started coming to BSU meetings just before the end of last term, and though she was new, she’d seemed fairly comfortable. From the look on her face, Angelina worried that something had happened.

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong with Hermione,” Lavender said, “I wasn’t going to say anything after how insensitive she was after my bunny died, but I’m really worried.”

Angelina hadn’t seen Hermione much this year, and the few times she’d caught a glimpse of her she had either been running to the library, running to class, or running to her room to get another book. She wasn’t sure it was much different from how Hermione had acted in previous years, but Lavender was the girl’s roommate, so Angelina knew she would have more insight.

“What makes you think so?”

“She only ever does homework — I know that doesn’t sound so different from how she is normally, but it’s like she never sleeps. Parvati picked up her schedule yesterday morning to give back to her after she dropped it on her way out of our room, and she swears Hermione had multiple classes in the same time slot!”

Angelina frowned, “No one can be in two places at once.”

“Well obviously not, but she’s never missed a Divination class and she goes on and on about Arithmancy, but they’re at the same time.”

“Maybe she’s worked something out with the professor,” Angelina offered, unable to see anything else for it.

“Maybe, but that’s not the point. She’s been crying a lot lately and I know for a fact that she and Ron Weasley had a row. Of course, Harry sided with him, so now all she does is hang out with Hagrid.” Her voice dripped with derision at the thought of anyone wanting to spend their free time with the school’s newest and most untrained professor.

“Why haven’t you offered to let her hang out with you and Parvati?”

“Obviously we have, and we’ll occasionally have lunch but we have nothing in common,” Lavender leaned in, her tone hushed, “She doesn’t even care about the Boys With Magic’s Screech Tour!”

Angelina watched Lavender, bemused. She supposed Lavender and Hermione were about as different from each other as you could get, but still, she appreciated the fact that Lavender was willing to seek help for her roommate.

“Why are you coming to me about this? Surely Professor McGonagall could help her with her schedule, or talk some sense into Harry and Ron.”

“Well, she looks up to you,” Lavender says, “I wanted to invite her to a BSU meeting, but I think she might respond to it better coming from you.”

“I don’t know…” Angelina said, unsure, “If anything, her coming to BSU might make her scheduling issues worse.” She vaguely wondered if she could go to Wood with the BSU as an excuse for why she couldn’t do so many practices.

“True, but BSU makes me feel like I have a real support system here,” Lavender said, “It seems like Hermione is flailing. Maybe it could help her too.”

…

Angelina promised Lavender that she would talk to Hermione about joining the BSU, but for the rest of the week, she didn’t find the time. Her professors were piling on more and more homework as O.W.L.s loomed. As their match against Ravenclaw came closer, Wood became more pumped up than ever, approaching team members in the hall to shout tips and getting into a very loud and public argument with Percy Weasley in the entrance hall about why having a full working model of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch in their room shouldn’t be a hindrance to a good night’s sleep. She had spoken to Wood about calming down, and in response, he relented on the individual workouts, but increased the constructive feedback he seemed to feel obligated to hurl at them in passing.

With Saturday morning came Quidditch practice, but Angelina had a book she needed to return to the library before Madam Pince began stalking her for it — she had heard from Colin Creevey that Pince had taken to popping around corners after he’d put off returning a book for too long. She left her broomstick at the doorway, knowing the librarian wouldn’t like it in her sanctuary.

She wasn’t all that surprised to see Hermione there, surrounded by stacks of books near one of the windows, the early morning light filtering in through the thin gray clouds. She was bent over an open book, but when Angelina got closer, she realized the girl was fast asleep.

“Hey,” Angelina nudged her awake.

Hermione shot up, eyes wild. The side of her dense curly hair was flattened, packed together, and lopsided. “Wha—? Oh, hey Angelina.”

Angelina knew she needed to get to practice, but now that she was really looking at Hermione up close, she could see that Lavender had a point. The girl had large bags under her eyes, her clothes looked disheveled, and it was clear she hadn’t moisturized her hair in at least two weeks. Angelina sat down next to her, reaching out to fluff up the side of Hermione’s hair that had been mashed together when she dozed off. It felt dry and brittle.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Hermione mumbled, rubbing her eyes, “I’ve been looking up precedents for hippogriff pardons after they’ve attacked humans. I must have fallen asleep.”

Angelina slid a stack of books out of her way and glanced down at the huge tome Hermione had been sleeping on. It was a book about legal cases against violent magical creatures from the 19th century. “Why would you be doing that?”

“The Ministry is holding a hearing for Buckbeak soon and Hagrid needs all the help he can get,” Hermione’s words were slower than Angelina was used to, but she could still hear the indignation in her voice. “It isn’t fair to punish Buckbeak just because Malfoy was being stupid.”

“Sure,” Angelina had heard all about the hippogriff issue, it was one of the reasons they had played Hufflepuff in their first Quidditch match of the year, and by extension, the reason Wood was so frantic after losing. “But why is that on you?”

Hermione blinked. “Hagrid is my friend.”

“Yes, but Hagrid is also a grown man,” Angelina said gently, “Are you sure you have time to focus on this given all of your classes?”

Hermione wouldn’t meet her eyes, “I’m handling it.”

“I won’t tell you how to manage your time,” Angelina conceded, leaning back. “But it seems like you need some support. Some of us — Black students, I mean — we meet on Sunday mornings to hang out and talk. Professor Sinistra gave us her classroom to use.”

Hermione frowned, “I heard about that. I figured Zabini just sent that note as a courtesy. He doesn’t like me very much, and the others think I’m too high strung.”

Angelina grimaced, “That may be true, but the BSU isn’t about that. It’s about community, having each other’s backs even if you’re not exactly close.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, rubbing her eye again. Angelina wondered if all Hermione really needed was a good night’s sleep.

“Well just think about it,” Angelina said, pushing herself up from her seat. She was going to hear it from Wood for being late. “And stop by my room later. I’ve been developing a quick moisturizing spell for hair that I think you’ll be able to learn fairly easily.”

Hermione yawned. “Thanks, Angelina,” she said before bending over further to read about the trial of a bowtruckle with a penchant for pulling out the hair of anyone who came within ten feet of its trees.

Angelina nodded and turned to leave the library.

…

Angelina sat in Sinistra’s classroom in the circle of chairs Blaise Zabini and Desiree Warbeck had configured before the start of the meeting. Desiree was now passing around the fresh cookies she’d baked in the Hogwarts kitchens (“You can get a lot done when you’re friendly with the house elves.”) while Dean Thomas wrote a few things on the board in the front of the classroom.

Angelina’s younger brother Alex sat nearby, poised to take minutes. It was his first year at Hogwarts, and he’d been sorted into Ravenclaw. When Angelina had told him about the group, he’d jumped at the chance to join, and when Blaise had casually asked if anyone could take notes, Alex took it upon himself to bring his own quills and parchment to every meeting from there on out.

“Did you talk to her?” Lavender hissed at Angelina as she sat down in the circle, leaving a seat between them.

“Yeah,” Angelina said, “I don’t know if she’ll come, but we’ll see.”

“Alright everyone,” Blaise said, after thanking Desiree for a cookie, “We should start.”

Dean finished writing down the last bullet point with a flourish and came to sit between Blaise and Alex. Desiree kept walking around the circle, while Blaise continued.

“Let’s check in. How’s the beginning of the new term going for everyone so far?”

There was a beat of silence as the students all looked around at each other, unwilling to go first.

“I’ll start,” Dean said, sitting up straighter. “I’m okay. School’s fine, but I’ve been having a hard time talking to my mum. My parents are Muggles, so they don’t know about all the...stuff going on here. I was too scared to tell them about the Chamber of Secrets, and with Sirius Black on the loose near Hogwarts…I don’t know I guess I’m just having a hard time figuring out what to tell my family.”

Blaise nodded, looking around the room. “Anyone have any advice for Dean?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Lee Jordan said next to Angelina. “The Chamber’s been closed and the Ministry will get Black. Don’t tell them about any danger unless you don’t want to stay here anymore.”

“Of course I want to stay!” Dean exclaimed.

“Then keep your mouth shut,” Lee said, “Trust me, it’s a pain to have your parents worrying about you at school, Muggle or not.”

Angelina silently agreed. She and Alex had been getting long-winded letters from their mother about all of the anonymous tips the Daily Prophet was getting about Black, and after the attack on the Fat Lady, she knew her parents were of half a mind to pull them out of school altogether. Angelina wished she could tell her not to worry, especially with Dumbledore around, but instead she thanked her mum for the information and moved on with trying to balance her schoolwork and Quidditch.

“Who’s next?” Blaise asked.

“I’ll go,” said Lee. “Everything’s brilliant mostly, except I’ve got detention for the next four Saturdays just for putting fake snakes in Alicia’s stew.”

“You deserve it!” Alicia interrupted scathingly from across the room. Several people giggled.

“Oh come on, it was just a bit of fun,” Lee said with a smile. “Anyway, I’m supposed to be sorting Flitterblooms from Devil’s Snare with Sprout, which is cruel and unusual punishment if you ask me — what if I get attacked and there’s no one to save me? On top of that, Snape’s given me extra Potions homework just because I misspelled ‘monkshood’ in my essay, so now I’ll be missing out on some prime planning time with the twins — we’ve got some brilliant jokes for April but they take time —”

“Sorry,” a small voice said from the doorway.

Lee stopped as the room turned to see Hermione, looking unsure. She wore a burgundy sweater and jeans, her thick hair pulled up into a pineapple on her head. She was clearly still exhausted, but she looked far better than when Angelina had seen her last.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Hermione said, eyes darting around the room, “I just wasn’t sure if this was the right place.”

Dean smiled kindly, “You came at the right time. Lee was rambling.”

“Sorry for trying to share my life,” Lee said, crossing his arms dramatically, “I thought I was amongst friends.”

“Take a seat,” Blaise said, gesturing to the circle.

Hermione made her way over to the chair between Angelina and a beaming Lavender. Desiree hurried over to offer her a cookie.

“Why don’t you check in, Granger?” Blaise said as Desiree took her seat. “We’re just talking about how our years are going so far.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, taking a small bite of her cookie and wiping her mouth. “Mine has been really hectic, but I’m managing…”

#Angelina Johnson #Lavender Brown #Hermione Granger #HogwartsBSU

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