#my first thought is that it happens in the depths and the connection is disguised by red herrings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cybsoo2 · 28 days

Text

my obsessive fan (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — After weeks of watching from afar, they finally have a chance to meet you for the first time.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!bts x idol!reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.9k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, stalker behavior, mention of manipulation, talk of religion, violent thoughts

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; hi!! i'm on vacation and don't have a lot of free time, so i'm sorry this took so long to write a 2nd part.

—Kim Seokjin

Ever since Jin set his sights on you, he knew he had to have you

No matter what anyone says, he knew deep in his heart that you were his and he was yours

It’s because of this reason that Jin started to build a certain type of entitlement towards you

His jealousy only grows every time he has to suffer through your interactions with anyone that isn’t him

Dark desires carve themselves deep into his chest

He takes control of your life from afar

Chasing away the cheap bitches and bastards that get too close

Spreading his sweet lies with easy eyes and a silver tongue

However, watching you from afar soon starts to summon a certain type of sadness

He weeps while watching his darling hold undesirables so dear to her heart

He grows tired of talking with your mutual friend, keeping up a facade that threatens to fall

And he takes out his torment on anyone around him until it almost tears his life apart

After all this waiting, he takes fate into his own hands and forces himself into your life

He sweet talks a friend who just happens to be your fellow member

Conversations too close for comfort, a few flirtatious remarks, and looking up at her through heavy-lidded eyes

Jin has always found it amusing how flattery and corrupt kisses have given him everything he’s always wanted

So when he mentions meeting you in passing, of course your member says yes

When the end of the week arises, he suddenly feels himself growing sick

Sweaty palms, cold shivers, and a set of nerves that burn deep into his brain

Despite his aching anxieties that ricochet in his head, he hides his fears behind black jeans and a dainty dress shirt

He walks the way to your dorm while drowning in sick thoughts

Desperate to disguise his sick self and make a memorable impression

This moment truly determines which direction your relationship will run

When he reaches the door to your dorm, he holds his breath before knocking two times

It only takes three seconds before you’re answering the door and dawning a soft smile on your face

Your excitement is contagious and he can’t help himself from letting a subtle grin slip

You two connect almost immediately

He lets you take the lead, only chiming in to agree with everything you say or complement you kindly

His quick wit and easy-going attitude keep the talk going for hours on end

He coats the conversation in his charms

Sweet talking until you settle into silence

Even when the conversation is cut quiet, your bodies talk calm and comfort

The clock strikes 12 and your day together has come to an end

Jin feels himself drifting into depression with every step towards the door he takes

His bones grow hard and heavy, falling into the floor right when he arrives home

30 minutes pass by and his pulse still skyrockets at the thought of your smile

He doesn’t need hope, he knows that you’ll never forget him

Your souls syncing into one almost instantly

It’s safe to say this isn’t the last time you’ll be seeing him

—Min Yoongi

These days, Yoongi has found himself drowning in the depths of a dull and depressing lifestyle

Unmotivated and uninspired, his lyrics hold no passion and his raps feel lost without rhythm

His weeks are blue and begin to blur together

Lost along his way, without purpose or passion to guide him

That is, until he met you

When you walked into his studio one Sunday morning, he felt something shift

Rendered speechless, he stumbled over his sentences when coming to a deal with your manager

You were a new and unknown artist looking for a new lyricist

You had heard word of an underground rapper who wrote songs for those worth the time and effort

You chose him, you wanted him, and you needed him

A rushed agreement left his lips and a contract was signed with a scarlet signature

You passed the pen over to him, hand skimming across his

A shiver of affection ran rampant in his heart

After he signs, he pockets the pen for what he calls ‘sentimental value’

His eyes watched as you wandered the studio

Fingertips touching the keys of his piano, the papers plastered across his desk, and the hoodie he left hanging over his chair

A lovesick sensation shakes him to his core

He’s feeling feverish from you way you walk around his office as if it’s your own

You make yourself comfortable as your staff talks money and meetings

You sit in his seat, curious eyes wandering his way

When you gave him a simple smile he swore he’d been burned by the sun

His moment is ruined when your manager opened his mouth

Yoongi had begun to tune out most of his talking, but when he suggested you sing one of his songs to test out this team up, he jumped at the opportunity

You shut yourself in the sound booth and wait while Yoongi searches through his songs

He rummages for the lost lyrics

A love song is what he looks for, the perfect portrayal of what you mean to him

He finds the lyrics scattered across the floor

Dusting them off, he hands them over

You sing a hypnotic harmony, bringing justice to the lyrics that once looked so dull

Your meet eyes every minute, almost as if you want to say thank you

Trying to tell him with quick glances how much he means to you (how much this chance means to you)

And in that moment, no one else mattered but you

That very day, you lit a fire inside him

Fueling his inspiration and feeding his inner romantic

From then on all his attention is on you

He dropped all his other degenerate clients

Closed the door in their faces and threatened to set fire to their careers if they ever disturbed him again

His lyrics became lovelorn

The characters in his songs so eerily alike to you and him

You’re his pure purpose in life; his passion and pleasure

His life does a full 180º, now rotating with you as the center

He needs you

And he’s happy that you need him just as much

—Jung Hoseok

Hoseok first met you through a rushed conversation in a crowd

Every since then his reality has been rapidly warped

It’s a fairytale still fresh in his mind

He can recount his raw emotions, your subtle smell of fragile flowers, and how the light hit you just perfectly, giving you a heavenly halo

You knelt down near the edge of the stage, out of breathe and taking a small break

Your eyes fluttered over the fans, a proud smile plastered on your face

Your breathe came out in short gasps, heart beating through your shirt, and sweat sliding off your body

Red rises to his cheeks just remembering the memory

He had his eyes locked on you, as they always are

The only new exception being the camera screen that captured the sight

Recently he had taken up the hobby as a way to earn a wage while not sacrificing the time spent on you

His fan page flourished all the mass of fans could feel his passion through the screen

One night, as he almost fell asleep to the sound of your soothing voice, you said his name!

You said his name, spoke it like a silver string tumbled off your tongue

Whispered the word like lyrics leaving your lips

His hands started to shake and his heart suddenly stopped

You then went on to talk about his fan page and how much attention you where getting because of the viral videos

That memory is a distant sense of deja vu as now you beckon him closer with a wave of your hand

You draw him in through the dense crowd, an invisible string tied around your finger

“Hey! It’s Hobi right?”

Hoseok nods his head hesitantly, almost unsure whether this is a dream or not

“I thought I recognized you, you run one of my fan pages don’t you? I’m flattered really, that you take all the time just to support me. Here,”

You pull out a red rose from the bouquet

It’s a pretty present from your first win with a new song

You take the rose and hold it out to him, tilting it up so he can smell

He inhales the fragrant flower, but all he can smell is the surviving scent of your perfume

It’s something sweet, just like you, with notes of floral and fruit

He takes the flower between two fingers, running the tips of his touch over the stem, trying to tell if it’s real

You let out a laugh at his awe-struck appearance and tell him, “Be careful or you’ll cut yourself on the thorns.”

You show care by caution, a subtle sign the you feel something for him

And this red rose is a perfect representation of your relationship

You hide off to the side, away from the rest of your group that sings the encore

Sitting under the shadows you give him a show of your affection, then leave before anyone else can catch on

Hoseok understands your intentions, but he also knows that because of your job he can’t be with you

So he’ll continue to support you from the sidelines, only surviving on a sliver of your love and the hope to one day have you as his own

—Kim Namjoon

The fall day is fleeting

Snow threatens to suffocate the dying daffodils

It tumbles down from the tips of the mountain top, casting it’s cold nights and dreadful days over anything that still clings to color

The summer solstice is long since passed, and along with it goes his hopes and happiness

Namjoon finds himself still hanging on to the hot embers and raw embrace of his last relationship

He’s lost along the path, pleading with the gods and guardians to give him one last chance

He’s taken to a temple, high up in the mountains where sorrow cannot escape his sight

Namjoon cannot help but feel as if his god has lead him astray

Taken through twisting turmoil and tortured relationships

The dawn of a new December draws near

It’s cruel and cold, leaving Namjoon to linger on what his life used to be

His grasp on his guide is slipping

Religion runs rampant along the trail

Faith falling out of his hands if this last resort doesn’t give him some sort of sign

The temple is now near

Faceless people peer into the wishing well

He’s focused on only one thing, pushing through the crowd to meet his final moment

The do or die, a deciding factor on which way his life will lead him

He crawls up closer, hand held out with an offering

He’s just about to say his prayer and send off his present, when he collides into someone and the coin is falling through the cracks in the concrete

For a second, everything is silent

His heart hammers in his chest, heartbroken over the harrowing result of the test

He comes to the conclusion that his faith has failed him

Dragging him down deep through the mud and making his life a living hell

His god has gone and abandoned him… but a velvety voice breaks through his disbelief

He looks up and shining down on him is your sweet smile

Perhaps he hasn’t been abandoned, just lead to a new beginning

Yes, this is a sign, he’s so sure of it

You apologize for bumping into him like the angel you are

You take his two hands and help him up from where he’s fallen

Namjoon nods along to whatever you say, watching as you ramble off in embarrassment

He’s too shocked to be graced by a goddess to form a fragment of a thought

And just when his tongue is untied and thoughts untangled, you leave just as quickly as you came

The word ‘wait’ tumbles off his tongue, falling flat at his feet and off into oblivion

He sees your shadow walking off into the woods

You creep into the crowd, your figure floating further away from him

A fraying string of fate attaches you two

He feels compelled to to find you, to follow you, and never let you go

You’re a gracious god, guiding the way and giving him hope

He’ll worship you until ticking time wastes him away

—Park Jimin

He can’t contain his fiery fury

Jimin is a slave to sin and submits so easily to anger

He’s wrapped up in wrath

Biting down on his tongue, the pressure too much that blood begins to pool

Yet the pain serves as a desperate distraction

Such a pathetic thought to think that a single soul can cause this much distress

But that’s the truth, because just the sight of the bitch sets his heart ablaze

She sits in front of you, leaning forward to show off her scorpion smile

Licking her lips and teasing the thought of a killer kiss

She flirts shamelessly, as if she actually has a chance

Jimin knows you like sweet things, unlike the toxic slut that slides her high heels up your thigh

You’ve said it before, 3 months ago in a live, you like someone with innocent intentions

Jimin is torn into two people

On one hand, he wants to beat the bitch bloody until she can’t breathe

On the other, he knows he’ll make a scene and scare away any chance of your affection

He’s knows his best bet, so he swallows down his disgust and puts on a paper smile

Jimin’s turn is coming up next and he collects his items

His bank account now bare as he spend everything he had on albums, merchandise, and fan-meets

Photocards and poster papers are delicate in his hold

Sweat staining the edges as a wave of anxiety rushes over him

He counts down the seconds, wishing for time to turn faster

He traces the tips of his fingers over the image of you, imagining what it would be like if it were reality

Your fair features and the pain pulsing in his jaw are all to divert his attention from the scene going on at his side

The girl is finally getting up to go, but not before writing down her number in a pitiful attempt to be your plaything

His angry eyes are set on her silhouette

Finding her flaws and trying to shot through her head with his stare

His jealousy is a dangerous thing, a driving force that’ll ruin his life if he isn’t careful

So distracted from his fury, he surprised to hear your voice force itself into the silence

“Are you okay?”

Blood drips down his lips

He tore them up with his teeth, trying to bite back his spite and keep some self-control

He immediately apologizes, as if it’s something to be sorry about

Next thing you know he’s thrusting his papers in your hands and hoping you don’t hate him

The day is barely past 12 but already it’s ruined been by red

You try to sneak subtle glances his way and give him looks of concern, confusion, disgust, despair?

Your many masks are blurred together till’ he can’t decide if you’re upset or unaffected

These frowning faces fight against him

Tearing up his insides and taunting him with voices that say, “You messed everything up. She can’t stand the sight of you. You can’t keep it together.”

Imitate insecurities are transformed into truth

Jimin sees your face and that upside down smile, and he’s running away from the invisible issue

He gets up so fast, the chair falling to the floor with a metal clank

He doesn’t bother grabbing any of his albums

Rushing out the door with his eyes running red and tears trailing off behind him

Jimin is growing weary and worn down by the second person in his skin

Sunk deep into the dawn and smothered in sin

He’s tired of his twin always ruining his chances and wrecking his relationship with you

But Jimin is so stubborn and would do anything it takes to make you smile, even if it ends up killing him

—Kim Taehyung

Taehyung’s first time meeting you was anything but an accident

He knows wherever you are, from the time when the sun meets the mountains, to when the sky is suffocated in darkness

Lately, he’s been growing rather restless and irrational

An ache sets fire to his soul

Suffocating on the smell of your smoke he can’t seem to catch

His passion pains him, and he’s plagued with dreams of your distant touch

You’re so close yet so far

He makes up his mind on a moonlit morning

Months of walking in your faded footprints, he’s your silent shadow

Your schedule is now imprinted in his mind

He plans out the perfect day

He’ll come into the cafe you frequent, cause some chaos, and when he has your attention, he’ll cherish the moment

The autumn day arrives and he hides away

Standing up against the wall at the back of the cafe, he has a perfect view of anyone that dares walk through the door

He’s hasty and impatient

Constantly checking his watch and looking back up at the door

His hold tightens on his hot tea, heat transferring and burning into his blood

He checks his watch once more, but this time when he looks up, he hears bells ringing

He makes a double-take and his feet are flying before he can think twice

Taehyung comes crashing into you, spilling his tea and staining your shirt

He rushes apologies already rehearsed

He takes your hands in his and wipes off the mess with a rag already prepared in his pocket

Once your skin is no longer stained, only stinging with the past pain, he passes you the rag so you can clean off your shirt

Taehyung offers to order you another coffee, his treat because of the mess he made

Clueless and lovelorn, Taehyung takes your order without asking you what you wanted

Your order is taken down to a tee

When you ask how he knew what you liked, he said it was an impossible accident

The unlikely lie slipped out before he had time to think

Tripping up over your accusatory eyes and confused question

Perhaps Taehyung isn’t meant to stick to your side

Better off stalking in your shadow and reminiscing on the remains

He’s too naive and boyishly bold

Although he may know this truth deep down in his heart, he’s unable to act within reason

He has an ideal image of love

An image that lingering in his head ever since he was a child

You’re his only dear darling and he’ll just have to persuade you with his passion

No matter how much time it takes, no matter how often he fails

He’s a restless romantic and he can’t help it

—Jeon Jungkook

A rush of adrenaline and affection runs red like blood in his body

Your performance was perfect!

And he can’t believe he saw your sweet smile from just behind the barricade

He watched you glide with grace across the stage, grabbing the audience’s attention with just one look

But when your eyes locked, he felt as if you two were only ones in the room

You’ve enchanted him, intertwining your souls into two

He feels himself following your every move, reaching out to run his hand over yours when you handed out high-fives

His skin burns red with a blush

Blistering blood pumping hot to his head

His whole face is on fire and he feels as if he might faint

If this is the state just your skim of skin has struck upon him, he doesn’t know how he’ll handle meeting you in person

He’d spent all last night restless and rummaging around in his head for anything else forgotten

He planned and prepared for months in advance, after all, the first meeting is when memories are made

He spoke his script into the mirror, stumbling over words and stressing over sentences

He ripped up and rewrote his conscripted confession three thousand times over

It needed to be perfect

Now, as the crowd creeps off into the night, he mumbles over his love letter

The minutes melt away while waiting for those in line to leave

Now he’s the next one to meet his muse

He stumbles to sit in the silver chair and looks up to lock eyes

All his words are washed away when your attention is on him

The page concluding pure passion and perfectly written words is now crumpled in his hands

His knuckles whitening, attempting to get a grasp and spit out the words he wants to speak

You ask him how he is, how far he traveled for the concert, is he okay?... Why isn’t he talking?

He sits in silence, brain burning up and and a blush coating his cheeks

The hole in his head keeps him from forming a thought

It’s only when you’re signing his album and the meeting has almost met its end, when his heartfelt words begin flowing from his mouth

“I love you.”

The confession is quiet at first, hesitant as he waits for your response

“I love you too! I appreciate all of my fans so much. Thanks for coming to the concert.”

You say a simple response, rehearsed a thousand times but for a different reason

Forced to respond to any request and comply with the compliments

You look at him like a fan, like one of the thousands of faceless people that came before him

Don’t you understand? This isn’t some type of friendship or fleeting crush

He can’t sleep when you’re sick, can’t function when you’re frowning, and can’t live if he can’t love you

He’s bound by your side till time takes his heart

He’s a slave to your sweet smile and the whispered words that make his knees weak

Jungkook is more than just a lovesick man, he’s pierced by passion and won’t let you leave

A simple saying isn’t enough, he needs to show you how his heart beats and breaks only for you

“You’re not understanding. I love you.”

He leans over the table and takes your hand in his

You tense under his towering figure, yet Jungkook is too immersed in his speech to tell

“You’re everything to me. The reason worth living. I love you, I love you so much-”

His words become warped as he grows erratic

His rehearsed confession is now corrupted, growing messy and mushed together

He’s eager to get out the words before anyone else can interrupt

“I’d do anything for you. I don’t care if you hate me or hurt me, just let me love you.”

The security guards are scrambling to send him away, but it takes the strength of ten men to pry his hands from yours and pull him off the table

As they drag him away and the steel doors shut, you still hear his voice ringing out with all the reasons he love you

129 notes · View notes

welshoot · 1 year

Text

Epel and The Seven Dwarves

So… talking with my Mom and sister and it’s happened again. Epel is the target of this analysis/theory this time. If you’ve read my post about Jamil, this one is in a similar vein. I make use of a theory (I still don’t know whose it is originally, but you are brilliant whoever you are), I’ll make a point to summarize this theory though, so this hopefully won’t get too confusing. Understand that this is only partially me/my mom/my sister’s work. Spoilers under the cut and this gets a little long, so fair warning.

So the theory I’m drawing from goes like this: what if the boys aren’t just twisted off a villain/one character? What if they had multiple inspirations from their movie? Most notably, what if they had a heroic character for their inspiration in addition to their token villain? This could explain why the Twisted Wonderland characters are so well-rounded, they have more than one source of inspiration. Epel, for instance, is potentially based on the poisoned apple from Snow White. If that is inspiration, the apple doesn’t have much personality meanwhile our little first year does. Enter Mom and my sister and please know that this isn’t an elaborate joke regarding Epel’s height.

Snow White has a lot of characters but the seven dwarves are incredibly important to the film. Now to make my life a little bit easier I’m just going to focus on one of the dwarves. One of the more famous ones to be specific. Namely, Grumpy.

Aesthetically speaking, Grumpy and Epel have nothing in common. Personality and actions wise though… We have a bit more to work with.

Grumpy is described as a he-man woman hater. Now, in no way do I think that Epel hates women. I do, however, think that Epel hates being mistaken for one. Epel, like many boys his age, wants to be seen as a man and thus tries his very hardest to appear manly and behave in a manly way. So we have our he-man connection. Grumpy is portrayed as a sourpuss. Always grouchy, overbearing, and short-fused. These less than pleasant traits hide a very warm-hearted soul that is seldom shown though. Epel’s actions also disguise his true nature. This does also have to do with him being the poisoned apple which was beautiful but deadly. Epel behaves in a delicate fashion when he is, in fact, quite a rough individual. He also has a short-fuse and can be grouchy at times, especially when forced to do something he doesn’t like. Which is perfectly acceptable. No one likes doing things they don’t agree with. Grumpy also frequently doubts his leader’s, Doc, abilities. This is similar to how Epel sometimes doubts Vil’s abilities. Especially if those abilities have anything to do with being manly.

Okay, while there are few to zero shared design elements to the characters of Epel and Grumpy, Epel's home does have distinctly dwarf looking elements. Namely the piano. In the Harveston Kelkkarotu event (Japanese only so far) we see Epel’s hometown and one of the backgrounds has a piano in it.

We see this same piano in the dwarves house.

In addition to this, Epel shares the innate sweetness that all of the dwarves have. There is also a sort of innocence to his character that some of the dwarfs (Bashful, Dopey, etc.) possess.

I could probably go on, but I’m going to stop here since this is already a fairly lengthy post. The connection here between Epel and the dwarves isn’t the strongest, but it is intriguing nonetheless. I for one think it is a wonderful way to explain the depth of Epel’s character. I would love to hear others’ thoughts and theories on this.

#Twisted wonderland #I've been focusing on my fanfic sideblog and haven't posted anything here #sorry #epel felmier #Twst #Disney TW #theory #analysis #snow white and the seven dwarves #The seven dwarves #Grumpy #Epel #Twisted wonderland theory #Disney theory #mywritings

15 notes · View notes

kelleah-meah · 8 months

Text

What I did for Mabon / Autumnal Equinox

Even though I'm still feeling the Equinox spirit and I will be eating Hobo stew for the next 3 days, I thought I'd share how I celebrated the start of my favorite season before my calendar gets away from me.

Like many of the East Coast of the U.S., I woke up to a rainy autumn morn with temps in the upper 50s (about 14°C). Although I struggled to make myself get up because the coziness was just perfect, I did.

But before jumping into my preparations for work, I started my morning with a meditation session, reading from my current read on a Tao master, and followed it up with an in-depth tarot reading in honor of the Autumnal Equinox.

Here is the spread I used. I found it on Pinterest and it's called the Autumn Harvest Spread ...

And this is what it told me ... as you can see, I used a slightly different layout than what the spread displayed, but I don't feel the messaging was marred by that at all.

Here were the results of the tarot reading in detail ...

Events that are currently influencing you the most ... The Fool Interpretation: You are on the precipice of something new entering your life -- a new chapter beginning. You may not know what it is or if you'll be ready, but it's in the air and it's affecting you on a profound level.

Where you can harvest comfort Page of Pentacles Interpretation: By practicing earth magick and making plans supported by practical ambitions and reality. Seek confidence and dependability while running toward your dreams. Progress happens one life-stage at a time.

How you can harvest balance and wellness 5 of Swords Interpretation: By picking and choosing my battles wisely. Focus more so on building skills and confidence, and less on obtaining hollow victories.

Something you can be thankful for or a blessing in disguise Ace of Swords Interpretation: Those sparks of clarity and "aha" moments that fill your day, year and life are the very poignant breakthroughs you seek, yet fear. A new door is opening and your conscious mind is attempting to integrate newfound information when you least expect it.

Someone you should connect with this autumn or a relationship that needs your attention 7 of Swords (clarified with the 3 of Pentacles) Interpretation: Yourself and your honest intentions toward your circle, community and humanity in general.

Where to harvest magic. An indicator of how to tap into your psychic abilities. The Devil Interpretation: In the darkness that resides in you. Delving into the shadow self brings liberation and truth from the lies we tell ourselves. Dive deep, find the truth and the healing that follows will feel akin to magic.

Where you will see shifts and changes this autumn 8 of Swords Interpretation: In the things that keep you up at night as you work your way free from the feelings of helplessness, stagnation, and fear.

Something you should focus on and master this autumn 3 of Wands Interpretation: Continuous improvement and movement in the direction you seek as you patiently wait for your energy to manifest and your dreams to become reality.

Where you will succeed and prosper this autumn Queen of Wands Interpretation: Filling your world with joy, creativity, passion and bold expression that you seek, then radiating them from within.

Overall, I pulled 4 Swords: Ace, 5, 7, and 8, which is disconcerting, but not necessarily all bad news. As a matter of fact, most of the cards point to a lot of personal growth this fall season.

The downside is that personal growth often means conflict is on the horizon. That, plus the Fool and Devil cards are making me a bit fearful, but at the same time ... hopeful.

I know that doesn't make sense, but that's what the energy is telling me. Perhaps with time, it will all make sense. ---

And as a final chef's kiss for the day, I pulled this card from the bottom of the deck to show me what energy is being reflected back at me on this lovely first day of fall.

The 7 of Pentacles felt pretty accurate given that it symbolizes a harvest slowly making its way to you. (Mabon is the second harvest of the trio that mark the changing year. Samhain, of course, is the third and final harvest of the year.)

Also, the 7 of Pentacles is a message encouraging you to express gratitude and reflect on your journey so far. That's 2 ideas commonly recommended to those celebrating Mabon. What can I say? I love when messages align like that.

Moving on ...

After my morning "connect," I forced myself to go to work even though my body was begging me to stay home.

I went in, did my thing, and came home to cook my Autumnal Equinox menu. Long story short, I skipped the cornbread because I was really tired, but everything came out well in the end, I think.

Here's a pic of my Hobo Meatball Stew in progress and the final result that I got to eat for dinner.

It doesn't look like much, but trust me, that bowl is deep and the stew is lovely.

After dinner, I enjoyed my apple crisp dessert that I prepared the night before. Here's a pic of all the apples that I peeled, cored, and chopped before covering them in the apple crisp mix and baking them.

And the pic above is what a small plate of it looked like after I cut into the finished dessert after dinner and topped with vanilla bean ice cream.

I got to devour the dessert as I watched Clue on Paramount+. It was the perfect film for kicking off the fall/autumn/dark academia season.

And after watching the film, I happily crawled into bed and scrolled on my phone as the rain outside my window lulled me to sleep.

All in all, it was a pretty good way to start the autumn season.

#witchblr #the occult #tarotblr #tarot reading #clue #autumnal equinox #autumn #fall #i love fall #fall equinox #cooking #baking #sep 2023 #mabon #mabon 2023

1 note · View note

life-rewritten · 3 years

Text

True Beauty- Prince Charming, The Knight and the Ugly Duckling

Okay, let's get into it. First, I think the discourse has begun even more fiercely with the love triangle. I can see so many people complaining and crying about the treatment of Seo Jun in the show. Now I just want to say first of all that I haven't read the webtoon, it must be very upsetting to see a favourite of yours be so different and changed in an adaptation and all his good moments are given to the other guy just to make him a better lead. I get that frustration, but what can I do but analyse what the show is showing. Right now, the discourse about how toxic and creepy Suho is isn't making sense to me. I do think he is getting more hate than needed; it's fine if you're upset and hurt by how they have twisted the characters but don't come in and put all the blame on one character who isn't doing anything horrifying as everyone keeps on making it out to be. Nevertheless, I'm here to analyse the love triangle in these two episodes. I'm here to discuss more about the psychological basis of the characters, their masks, and how they show love and deal with these emotions. So without further or do let's get into this analysis, shall we?

Feelings and Emotions

First of all, episode 7 and 8 was very focused on the love square building. It makes sense because all our characters are going through feelings and emotions for people who show up and be some kind of happiness and safe space to them. This is not just Ju Kyung, Suho, Seojun but also we have an addition to Soo Jin who questions her feelings and emotions as well. In my opinion, this love square can go either way; both couples in the square all have different ways they impact or change each other. Both Seojun and Suho are great matches for Ju Kyung especially, but we also have to look at it more in-depth. Why is it that at the end of these two episodes, it was always going to be Ju Kyung and Suho who ended up together, for now, no matter what? It doesn't mean SeoJun is out of the game, in fact, I think he's more closer to having a chance with her in terms of storytelling, and how it bodes for Soojin is quite foreshadowing to be negative and worrying. So let's look deeper into the love square situation and break down what is going on so far. Who are the end game couples, who's meant to be, and who's provided more evidence they should stay together. Answer no one.

Let's get to it. First of all, as much as some people want to avoid the truth about this. Suho is Kyung's, Prince Charming. She even has a fantasy about him being exactly just this to her. I mean it makes sense; everything he's done and been to her so far has been exactly what a typical fairy tale prince charming does to a girl. Let's look at all he did in episode 7 and 8 first.

Protection and Care

We start off with episode 7, seeing just how protective Suho gets. Now don't get me wrong, it could be seen as possessive and invasive but as someone who has watched Kyung and her past instances with men, Suho is actually a great person to her. Not only does he protect her at the karaoke place along with Seojun and others, not only is her safety his number one priority (as he always shows in the show) but he also ensures that her self-esteem, her emotions, and her respect are taken into consideration. He goes so far to lose sleep (he doesn't have to do this it's just what he does for her) just to make sure that she is apologised to by the bullies who frightened her. He knows she's probably still shaken up about it, probably still thinking and fearful about them showing up again and that she has had an extensive experience and trauma with bullies before. So for her to see the bully show up and offer her a peace of mind that he's not coming for her again is so great to see. Now Seojun doesn't have to do this, but when the bullying happened because of her connection to him, he kind of pushed it off and moved forward like it didn't matter. But to Kyung, it probably still mattered because it was a moment she was scared about and Suho couldn't sleep right if she didn't feel safe. That's goals, in my opinion of what a boyfriend is. It's sweet that even in the car he saw that she was shaken up after the events, he showed her warmth and care just by holding onto her hands, he may be cold sometimes and tsundere but that's only because he's been forced to become that way because of his family life and environment. Which brings me to...

Power and Reputation

Like a Prince, Suho has a lot of power and reputation. It's how he protects Kyung he uses his powers, his talents, his abilities to ensure the bully apologises and shows her respect. He wants to make sure she knows she deserves to be treated right because she hasn't let herself feel like she's worthy of respect for most of her life. After all, people made her feel like her looks made her lower than that. I've mentioned in my previous analysis that Suho's reputation and power is both a gift and a curse. It's the mask he had to use to push people away when he thought he caused people to get hurt by being near him.

Again the teachers treat him differently because of the power he holds, due to his family background, this might be seen as a positive but it's actually a burden to him; there's a lot he had to go through because of this reputation, there's a lot of pressure for him to be this great person for people; like Seoyeon for example who Seojun blames him for not using his power and reputation to save his life, not just that he's also had his privacy invaded, we see in episode 8 when he and Kyung have the boat ride that he's been also traumatised by paparazzi when he was younger. He's always been seen just for his name and status and not who he really is. But what's great about prince charming here is that he uses this power and reputation each time to save Ju Kyung and show her the same devotion and respect that other people show him.

The Disguise

Now the issue with episode 7 when it comes to both Suho and SeoJun is that they do this in disguise. They care for her all the time in secret, and as much as both their actions are sweet and caring and important as boyfriend material, it's quite annoying that they don't come to her and show her that they care.

Episode 7 is full of hesitation from Seojun who's coming to terms and realisation with his feelings, and episode 7 is full of misunderstandings with Suho. Suho is still slowly breaking down his walls, and his coldness has been a way to protect himself from people. So it makes sense that as much as he wants to show her, he cares he struggles with knowing how to do so. Both Seojun and Suho don't have relationship experience on how to treat the girl they like. And you see in episode 7 and 8 that Suho struggles to know how to ask her out and by the time he wants to show up and tell her, he cares he gets misunderstood and is pushed back yet again. What I like about both Seojun and Suho is that immediately they know how they feel for Kyung they try to tell her and show her. That's why I think as much as Suho is the one who was more likely to be with her at this moment, Seojun isn't far behind in taking her heart if something goes wrong.

What matters is although he first tried to be Tsundere with her, Suho changed and started to try and find her and show her he cared. He wanted to ask her out, to make her know he liked her, he stopped being cold to her after episode 7 and 8. So people crying about how cold he was to her makes no sense to me. He was cold before because that's who he is, and how he's grown up to be, but once he recognised he wanted her, he didn't do anything toxic or mean to her anymore. Instead, he stood by her side, waiting for an opportunity to show her he cared. He went lengths to protect, and show her warmth, and show her support each time she cried and needed him to. Seo Jun does that too, which brings me to analysing these two scenes where SeoJun and Suho both are Prince Charming and the Knight in shining armour for Ju Kyung. As I keep repeating, both are reasonable boyfriend goals.

Comfort and Support

One of my favourite moments this two episodes is both the crying scenes of Jukyung with the respective guy. Suho sees Kyung crying over her mum, throwing away her makeup and he also sees her beating her self up over her grades. What he does again makes me like him even more as her boyfriend, he knows she worked hard, so he makes her know that, he doesn't want her to lose her self esteem again because of what people say to her. Suho is always protecting Kyung's self-esteem; he wants her to value her self as important and useful. She scolds her self because of being dumb and ugly or whatnot and how people perceive her, and he's always on her side, making sure she knows that he doesn't see her like that. He commends her effort, and he likes her for who she is. That's why she falls for him.

Not only is he the one who takes care of her in her most vulnerable moments when she feels broken and worthless being ugly but he's also there to show her support when she feels dumb and stupid. He makes her know that she's not that, and he knows she's okay being her self. It's sweet. This is different with Seo Jun who probably makes her feel comfortable with who she is because they can bicker and be themselves with each other, but he also insults her and joins in the mocking (not meanly) of her grades and her looks. Suho always in her mind shows her unconditional support and care. He gets her ramen, and he even offers to buy her new makeup to make her stop crying. And she doesn't think she deserves him to do so because she can't fathom that he could like her. However, she still has hopes that he could because of all his actions and how much she wants him to despite situations.

Now with Seojun, he has his own moment to show her that care. She cries to him about being upset because Suho doesn't like her. He probably was going to confess to her when he met up with her, but he patiently takes care of her and wipes her tears and let's her go selflessly. It was also sweet. But it doesn't hold the same weight to Kyung the way Suho's actions does to her. Right now, Seojun is on the losing side because he doesn't know who she really is without her mask. Suho does, and he's had opportunities to show her he likes, respects and wants her without it. This is why he was always going to be the one who she gave her heart to.

Friendship and Comfort

But the basis of the love triangle is friendship. Kyung and Suho not only have this need to protect and care and be there for each other, but he also knows what she likes, reads and is obsessed with even when she tries to hide it from others. She doesn't want people to know she reads the comics she does, listens to the music she does, because it doesn't match her mask of beauty and gentleness, but Suho knows all that about her because they both like the same stuff. So it's not just forced romantic feelings out of the blue that these two have had moments for, but they've been building a friendship with each other from the start, the moment he saw her and helped her when she almost jumped off the ledge in her most broken state. He's always been the person who's seen her for who she is, and the most comfortable person to speak to and be with. Now with Seojun, there's also friendship and comfort, like siblings he's also the kind of person that brings out her louder self, and she feels normal with him and comfortable because she doesn't care how he views her. So again, he still has a chance to win her heart because he also is a friend she cherishes and notices.

Soojin and Suho

And it's weird and sad because everything Suho does for Kyung that I've mentioned he also does that for Soojin. He offers her the same friendship and support and comfort and warmth. He's also seen her and known her in her most broken times without her mask. It's sad to know that he probably is one of the happiest places for her to be, amidst all the trauma and abuse she receives in her life, he's probably someone she wants to latch to, to stay happy but she can't have him now because of JuKyung. This is why I feel we're foreboding a bit of a villain back story with her; I hope not because I don't want girl hate, but it does make sense if she does end up feeling she has to do something to ensure Suho doesn't leave her side. Because he's one of the most important sources of comfort to her, he makes her feel good. It's just sad that he didn't see her as that way.

Before I continue with the analysis, I want to bring up a mirror character for the couples in the show; JuKyung's mum and her dad.

The problem with Kyung's mum

JuKyung's mum is a very frustrating character, and like all the adults in the show, she's lacking and also a negative person. She is callous and mean to people, especially her daughter, who she refuses to open her mind to listen to. She's not a monster, and she does love her daughter as shown when she is talking to her husband about wanting what's best for her and not seeing her as ugly, but her surface interactions with Kyung is a different story. It's ironic because her mum should be her most significant support and person to make her feel worthy since she went through the same thing her daughter went through. She's seen like Kyung as ugly, and people tell her this all the time. She managed to get a handsome husband which is something she holds on to but is insecure about. She keeps trying to control her husband by belittling all he does so that he doesn't feel above her or get distracted by other women.

It's why she's so adamant about kicking him out of her shop when he's selling candles because she noticed how women interact with him. I think the thing with her is that she used her grades to enter university, and that's where she met her husband and found her job, which she is known as the best. She wants Kyung to focus on her studies, not on how people perceive her because she thinks it's the way to secure a better life and way to be seen as worthy by others. Because she also struggled and didn't have belief in her self either. This is why she probably has built up this anger and need to criticise and put people down because they did that to her as they do to Kyung. It's her own mask and her own cover of trying to seem strong and worthy. Why I'm seeing mirroring with them, and Kyung and Suho are because her husband dotes on her as shown in episode 8, he's just as protective and loving to her, but also he was a singer (we all know Suho is Leo). The same unconditional, supportive and caring love that her dad shows her mum is the same Suho shows Kyung. I think that's why we saw their interaction in episode 8.

Another couple that brings up the same themes in reverse is Hee Kyung and the teacher. Hee Kyung has decided the teacher is who she wants, she appreciates him and shows him that she sees him as hardworking and necessary despite him feeling worthless because he's in debt. He tries to push her away because of his lack of self-esteem (something I think Kyung will end up doing to Suho, she'll try to hide their relationship because she doesn't feel worthy being his girlfriend etc.) but Hee Kyung proceeds to keep on showing him (same steps that Suho was told to do to show Kyung how he feels) that she's there for him and loves him for who he is.

Prince Charming and The Ugly Duckling

That's why episode 8 is focused on the ugly duckling. People probably brushed it off, but clues were pointing to it. Kyung calls her self the ugly duckling, and there's an ugly vengeful ghost who wasn't loved because of her looks by her husband that is out to find a new face to cover up her ugliness. It's not the fairytale of the ugly duckling that matters, but just the mental anguish in the tale the ugly duckling suffered from because of being seen as different and ugly. It's the same fears and pain that Kyung goes through this episode. She regresses from believing that Suho could possibly view her as a love interest because of Soo Jin being in his life. Soo-Jin is the pretty one, is the worthy one because she's just as smart, rich and good looking as Suho. She ends up going through the same anguish that both the ghost, ugly duckling go through feeling disappointed, hurt, frustrated with the people around them because of how they view themselves. Both the ghost who ends her life because she's felt rejected and brutally treated because of how she was born, and the ugly duckling who gets rejected, hurt, bullied and pushed away almost to his own mental death are symbols of how Kyung views her self, and what she was the most frustrated about when she cried to Suho.

It broke her to realise that she couldn't be with someone like him because she was less than Soo Jin even though he and her had something. It probably was all she thought was the reason she couldn't chase after and let him know how she felt. Plus the idea of losing this new friendship blooming with Soojin and Suho, when she didn't used to have people like them in her life before. Kyung broke down because of the realisation about how unfair she felt life was to her because of how she was born. She was going lengths to cover up who she was the whole trip, and Suho had been there protecting her and caring for her and seeing her for who she is but at the end of the day he was always going to be more in love with Soo Jin because she was the better person.

Which is why again Suho without knowing or meaning to shows up to show Kyung he cares for her, for who she is, and he sees her the opposite of how she's been made to feel about her self. He buys her the swan necklace. And something touched my heart when I saw it. Like it's just like him to do that when focusing on Kyung feeling and telling her self she's the ugly duckling worthless, and below others, actually, Suho sees her as the swan, he knows who she really is, he likes he for who she really is, and he's there to remind her that the ugly duckling wasn't ugly at all but was a different species and was beautiful once he matured. He was always meant to be a swan.

And Suho buying that necklace symbolises his thoughts towards Kyung, what he does for her is just remind her that even without makeup she's still worthy and she's above the rest to him. It's the same things he's done the whole episode 7-8; he fights to show her she's meant to be respected, meant to be loved (when her mum doesn't show her that), meant to be valued and meant to be seen for who she is. That's why he was always going to be the one to end up with her by the end of this episode.

Boyfriend Material

Like I said Seojun's bracelet is sweet because it's all he can give and so it's also good because he's just again being himself and being authentic towards her. For him and Kyung, it's always authenticity, comfort and warmth. But when it comes to Suho it's more than that, he sees her. He makes her love her self, not because he likes her don't get me wrong she doesn't need a guy to make her love her self, but he's the person who shows up as a reminder, the person behind the scenes who's always making her realise that she's just okay being her self. That's why she calls him a fairytale. In the end it's nice to have a prince who's rich (the necklace was expensive), powerful, and protective but Suho is more than just that to Kyung, he's her strength, her support and the one person who makes her feel good about being her self. That's enough for her.

So as much as Seojun is a great boyfriend material he doesn't have the same impact on JuKyung right now. He doesn't know the real her, even though he is great and caring and warm with her. He is just as sweet and protecting as Suho, but he's just a little bit too late. From the first time, Suho and Kyung met on that rooftop they meant more to each other. It's not just Suho who is Kyung's safe space, warmth, support etc., Kyung does the same thing for him it's vice versa, she makes him break down his walls, be vulnerable, also feel worthy (because remember he hated himself because of Seoyeon's loss). She also makes him feel seen and reminds him; he's also okay as his true self. They both do this for each other. That's why this hate towards Suho for his possessive, creepy, obsessive nature (as people call it), is uncalled for.

Suho has been made to be the cold tsundere lead because he struggles with PTSD. Yes, he needs therapy, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a good impact on Kyung, he's not toxic to her, he's actually good for her, and he is the only person after everything we've seen her go through this whole show that makes sense to be the one that she loves. There's still a lot of things they still have to heal from and deal with to get to the end, and perhaps Seojun would find a way to do more for her than Suho has done so far, but for now, Suho and Kyung are written to be each other's person so let's see what happens next.

I really mean it when I say I don't care about this love triangle. I'm only following what the show writer and director is showing, what they are making me see. Could it be different in the webtoon and I'd support Seojun more yes, but webtoon readers; it's clear that the writers have made Suho the person they think is for Kyung, and they've stolen Seojun's moments because of this, is it right? No, of course not. But it doesn't mean the show isn't good or that Suho is a monster or whatnot. It just means you have to decide if the show is worth watching if you can't deal with what they did with it. The amount of hate Suho receives in the tags is just hypocritical in my opinion, when Seojun and Suho do the same thing with Kyung. They're both as possessive and as protective and they both have their flaws. They're both sweet to her, and caring. No one is wrong, or right as the end game. But don't be too irrational when it comes to your bias. That's all I'm saying. Anyways apart from the love triangle, True Beauty continues to be a light watch that I love and enjoy, I love the relationships and the psychological conversations that can be derived from the show. I've been through what Kyung has gone through, and I've gone through moments of seeing my self as worthless and meaningless because of how society views me or has made me think about my self. That's why I appreciate her relationship with Suho and Seojun. I really relate to her dramatics and her break downs, and I like this show for being not just light at times but also serious when it talks about what the characters are dealing with psychologically. Anway that's my analysis. Let's see what next episode brings.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #kdrama #cha eunwoo #moon ga young #lee suho #im jukyung #cwg #january #han seojun

243 notes · View notes

chaoticneutralwriter · 3 years

Text

GD!Jimin Extras: Golden Hour

As they say, taking a picture lasts longer.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, fluff, romance, angst, slow-burn

word count: 2.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

A snapshot of the days before The Storm

A/N: Shout out to @azulamakesmeblank because this was partially inspired by this ask! As promised, a fluff chapter before the literal shit storm that’s about to take place in the story (butisitreallywhenyoureadthelastlineofthispromptwhat:’)) I hope you enjoy it! it’s kinda half edited dkfhgha I love you guys as always for your support and patience for this story! 💖💖💖💖

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway @indiesy @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady @youmaiiwasherebeforeu

You arrive at the front door a little too breathlessly in your haste. It should be embarrassing but blaming your increased pulse on your lack of fitness has your mind and, ironically, your heart resting easier than having to think that you're actually half-nervous and half-excited to see Jimin again.

Even though you literally saw him just yesterday.

You really need to pull yourself together better; you'd rather not have a repeat of pouring tomato sauce all over the counter because your hands got too shaky from Jimin watching you cook dinner (and after you insisted on him not needing to do anything too!)

You take in a fortifying breath, appearing to be squaring up to take the final stand in saving the world instead of simply seeing your boyfriend for what's essentially a stay-in dinner date. You punch in the pass code to the lock pad with practised ease, almost not giving enough time for the beep to chime as you push the door open.

“Jimin?” You call out in greeting once you toe off your shoes and slip on your pair of house slippers. Your eyes scan over the vast living room, spotting the head of raven locks peeking out from the end of the couch. Stepping closer, a smile sneaks its way onto your lips when you realize that he's most likely resting, given his lack of response. Quietly, you step into the kitchen area to set down your bags of grocery on the counter before you make your way to peer over the back of the seat. You're instantly smitten at what you see.

The sun is beginning to make its descent below the horizon, dying the clouds in an ombre of fiery oranges, pinks and reds against the remnants of soft pale blue sky. Thanks to the generous amount of window space the penthouse has, the golden glow easily washes over the interior of the living room and bathes everything with its light; Jimin being no exception.

It cascades over his skin like honey, high-lighting the bridge of his nose, the tops of his cheeks, and the shape of his cupid's bow. It makes his long lashes stand out so delicately and the equally dark strands of hair that falls gently over his forehead. Your fingers itch to sweep them away yet at the same time, you don't dare risk disturbing this sleeping beauty.

So unconsciously, you silently settle yourself on the top of the couch, resting your elbows on the cushion with your head propped up in your hand.

He looks so completely relaxed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped over his stomach. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, forearms toned and the first few buttons undone to expose a teasing view of his collarbones while black slacks hug his thighs perfectly (as per usual). If someone were to take a picture of him right now and slap on some big fashion name on it, you're pretty sure anyone who would see it would believe it to be a legit advertisement or a cover of a magazine.

Now that the thought has crossed your mind, temptation begins to rear its head. From the beginning, it's a no brainer what you imagine one would do given the opportunity of having a guardian demon that looks like the carbon copy of your favourite idol; do whatever you can to prevent said demon from stepping out into the world and risk slandering the actual person they're parading around as, or indulge in your wildest fantasies now that you have the means.

It's....a rather unique position to be in, with a plethora of mixed feelings to say the least.

After the initial shock of it wore off (which was really just taking three business day to process it all), you've come to the conclusion that this whole thing was, more than anything, weird. Some people might be able to turn a blind eye and though you're grateful that he had decided to look like Park Jimin from BTS, no matter how good of a disguise it was, it still doesn't change the fact that it's not Jimin.

You were grateful, but it made you a little resentful towards him.

With such a stark contrast, it's as if all of the good things you associated with that face had been sullied for something colder and unfeeling. You hated that he had chosen to use someone like Park Jimin – the perfect example of a good human being – to mask his much more sinister nature. You were sure it was part of some sick joke, and it felt...wrong.

Like you've lost part of a safe space in your world to the uglier side of the universe.

So in an attempt to preserve Jimin's good name in your heart, you were adamant in keeping your guardian demon at arms' length, hence why doing something as simple as taking a picture with him was out of the question. Not only would it not be in good faith, you can't begin to imagine what would happen if it got out to the world somehow.

And you succeeded....in the most unexpected way possible.

Maybe it was the deep rooted connection you had for Jimin, but there was always, without a doubt, a part of you that was soft to him. At first it had irked you, however over time, you realized it allowed for you to see another part of him that you wouldn't have otherwise. It made you open up to the idea that....he's not as bad as he seems.

You were afraid of losing a piece to your safe space when really, you ended up gaining an entirely new one instead, one that had become just as important.

So maybe that's why, as the longer you stared at Jimin (who's not Jimin but that doesn't mean he's worth anything less), the more you wanted to preserve this memory of him to keep for yourself. It's selfish you know, but things have changed, you've changed, and this is too good of a chance to pass up.

Your phone is out, hands steady as you pull up the camera and you want to laugh at how the image on your screen does no justice in capturing just how ethereal the sight before you is (of course it doesn't, should you really be surprised?) That doesn't stop your finger from tapping the snap button, because as they say, taking a picture lasts longer. The shot is satisfactory enough, getting him at an angle that show him from the waist up. You wonder if you can get another one, this time a little wider....

Well, you'll never know if you'd ever get the shot because your guardian demon chooses to wake up at that moment, locking piercing eyes with you through the phone. You immediately freeze.

There's a pause on his end before you see him pinpoint exactly what is going and a sly smirk tugs imperceptibly at the corner of his lips. “Cherub....” He greets, the low drawl sultry and irises pools of rich melted chocolate.

You gulp, straightening up while trying to inconspicuously put away your phone, a sheepish grin stretching across your face. “Rest well....?”

Jimin pretends to hum in deep thought, shifting so that he's facing more comfortably towards you. “For a good while yes....until my demon senses started tingling, telling me I was being watched. Should I be mildly concerned that you like watching me sleep?”

You scoff, “I don't always watch you sleep.”

“And you totally weren't snapping stalker photos of me.”

Your jaw drops, affronted but you don't go on to deny the claim. “Hey, calling them stalker photos is a stretch. And I'm just saying this because this was the only time I've ever – oof!”

Without warning, his hand had shot out to grab a hold of one of your wrist hanging over the back and with a strong tug, you fall face first onto his chest, an arm encircling you to keep you in place.

“Whatever you wanna call it, doesn't change that I'm still going to charge you for them.” You hear him playfully chastise above you. When you tilt your head up, you see him quirk an eyebrow at you expectantly. You blink, then roll your eyes, pretending to be inconvenienced by his stinginess, as if you're not ready to give him everything if he so much as breathes a word of it.

“Alright, what do you want?”

Jimin doesn't say anything in response, simply staring at you with those bottomless eyes, a smoulder simmering beneath their surface that it has you drowning in their depths. He watches you, unperturbed by your squirming (actually amuses in it) before you practically hear him purr, “What do you think I want?”

Your heart easily skips a beat (or more) and you're sure he can feel it beating frantically from your chest to his. While you're internally combusting, Jimin remains the picture definition of smug, free arm still propped behind his head the same time the other is wrapped around your waist, your face heating at the way you feel his thumb stroke at the strip of warm skin peeking out thanks to your shirt riding up a bit in the tumble.

He's actually infuriating, you think. Why's he gotta be so damn good at what he does?! You don't think he's even trying. Ugh, get it together, this is nothing new so it's not even a big deal! You can be cool about it too!

Giving yourself a chaotic pep talk apparently is what helps you find the courage to scooch up until you're able to land a chaste peck on the centre of his lips. Before you can fully withdraw, you already see the unimpressed look Jimin is shooting your way.

“I know you can do better than that.”

You puff, chewing on your lower lip into a pout; the deadpan in his voice makes you grumble at being called out, your neck and the tips of your ears burning now. Seeing you so flustered though, Jimin couldn't help but be endeared, then finally decide to ease up on the teasing he's been relentlessly subjecting you to. Slowly, he lowers the arm behind his head to gently take a hold on your chin, bringing your attention back to the adoring smile softening his features.

“Pretty cherub,” He coaxes, “Won't you give a little sweet treat for me?”

It takes everything in you to suppress the small whimper that wanted to jump out from the base of your throat at hearing those words. Whether it's teasing, cocky Jimin or loving, doting Jimin, you really aren't built to handle any of them at all, seemingly defaulting to a blushing mess no matter how hard you try be unfazed. Which is why after a moment of resigning to your fate, accepting that there was no point resisting when your heart and body have already betrayed you, do you close your eyes and give in wholeheartedly.

He welcomes you, carefully lets you mould your lips to his for a proper kiss and you helplessly melt against him. You don't think you can ever get used to the feeling but it's like Jimin doesn't mind one bit, pace unhurried to savour every press like it’s your first. Your mind becomes muddled the longer it goes on, and when you feel the swipe of his tongue, you're nearly gone. But as tempting as it is, you can't get too carried away here – you still have dinner to cook!

You allow yourself a few tantalizing licks before you part with great reluctance. Through hazy eyes you meet Jimin's, the little breath you have hitching from the sight of his swollen, moistened lips and dark brown irises now glowing a muted maroon, on the verge of igniting into full blown desire.

“Can't have you spoiling dinner so early.” You say, then embarrassingly avert your gaze at how your voice comes out raspy and thick.

You miss the way the corner of Jimin's mouth twitch, but catch the mischievous glint that's no doubt from mentioning the word 'dinner'. You put on your best scolding face, smacking his chest lightly in reprimand.

“No.”

“I didn't even say anything.” His incredulous retort is drowned out by the laugh he lets out with it, the sound has you struggling to maintain your 'serious' front.

“You were thinking it.”

“Are you sure it's not you projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

You humphed, about to turn away and get off your personal body pillow but Jimin's hold remains steadfast. He sneaks a quick kiss to your forehead once you settle back down again as a means to placate you, chuckling softly, “Okay, okay, I'll behave.”

You giggle lightly, cheeks pressed into his collarbone as you give an approving hum, cuddling even closer to his person and you both lapse into a comfortable silence, breaths in sync. Outside, the final rays of the setting sun disappears below the city's horizon, taking the warmth of the day along with it.

But you find no lack in that when you're lying here in his embrace, because whereas the sun comes and goes, yours remains unwavering.

114 notes · View notes

saiki-k-innie · 3 years

Text

Your boyfriend, Denki Kaminari, is the UA traitor

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Anime: My Hero Academia Character(s): Denki Kaminari Legend (y/n = your name): gender neutral reader, quirk not mentioned, y/n is a gamer (not a major plot point) Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: (very) minor angst, invasion of privacy Notes: I wrote this while listening to (this) playlist, originally in the comment section of the video. I decided to refine it and post it here, because why not?

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

when you first found out, you were devastated.

Denki? Your little Pikachu? The UA traitor? preposterous. it was almost laughable. almost.

You were chilling in his room, playing on his PlayStation while he was out training with Kirishima and some others when you discovered his secret.

It was pretty common to see you in his room without him or vice versa. You two completely trusted each other with everything. There was nothing to hide from each other, or so you thought.

When you were about to claim a win in Overwatch, (you were KILLING IT as Widowmaker), Denki's monitor went black. No response from the controller or the console. Sighing, you pushed yourself back in his chair and ducked your head under the desk.

"oh my god" you breathed as you laid eyes on the rat's nest of wires tangled beneath his desk. It was absolutely insane. You couldn't tell one cable from another in the gordian knot of cords. You quickly identified the problem (the plug for the PlayStation had come loose) and fixed it. You cringed at the loss of your game progress but you had another problem at hand.

You powered off all of his consoles and settled down to solve the tangle of cables. Laughing, you didn't know why you expected anything more of Denki. He was so lucky that you loved solving puzzles, and knots were your specialty.

Looking closer, you saw that he had taken the wall socket apart and messed around with it to accommodate his quirk and gamer lifestyle. You were surprised that it hadn't started a fire, but decided not to mess with that because you were genuinely afraid of what would happen if you grabbed the wrong cable.

After a bit of untangling, you finally had the cords separated. You identified and tagged all of the cords at the speed of a professional, but one cord that ran straight into the wall remained. You couldn't find what it plugged into or where it went, and it was driving you crazy.

Temporarily abandoning your original task, you swiftly ran your nimble fingers along the mystery cable. It snaked along the base of Denki's desk into the back of one of his drawers through a clearly handmade hole. You wondered why this cable was so concealed while the rest were once so tangled and what it led to.

Extracting yourself from under Denki's desk, you took a deep breath and stretched our your back. You easily identified the drawer it was supposed to go to and opened it up. The drawer was surprisingly organized, containing game cases for games that you hadn't seen him play before, but you definitely recognized the titles. There was still no sign of what the cable led to.

You weren't going to give up so soon, though. If he thought this would satisfy your curiosity, he was dead wrong. Smirking at the feeble deterrent, you promptly removed all of the cases to see what they were covering up.

"Huh," you vocalized as you stared at the empty drawer. Something wasn't adding up. Peering at the back of the drawer, you could see the cable lead... underneath the drawer? No, you were sure that it was this drawer.

Inspecting the drawer carefully, you realized that the depth of the drawer didn't match the depth of the space allotted for it. You were starting to get excited. Remembering what Light did to hide his Death Note, you realized that the bottom of the drawer was probably a fake. Smiling fondly, you remembered how Death Note was the first anime you two watched together.

Ducking your head under the drawer, you saw the hole for the ink cartridge from a ballpoint pen that would reveal the secrets. You shook your head. How did Denki think he could hide something from his weeb s/o??? You swiftly disassembled a pen and poked it into the hole.

Success! the faux bottom popped up.

Nearly vibrating from the excitement of discovery, you carefully removed the thin wooden facade from the drawer.

What- What is this? There were several circuits and wires winding around the drawer, all carefully placed and put together so they covered the bottom of the drawer snugly. You saw a button, a switchboard, a headphone jack, and what looked like a place for a cd to sit in the area closest to you. The switchboard had three buttons labeled "play" "pause" and "record". The button off of the switchboard had no label, but it was significantly bigger than the others, so it had to have some significance.

The excitement slid off of your face and was replaced with a look of pure confusion and disappointment. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

Well, the puzzle certainly got a lot more complex but that wasn't going to stop you either. You stared at the labyrinth of lines and wires, like little highways connecting on the circuits and different components. You had completely forgotten your original objective of cable management.

Thinking for a second, you picked up one of the game cases that you took out of the drawer. The title read "Halo 3: ODST". Popping it open with the finesse of a pro gamer, you peeked inside, expecting to see the matching blue disk, but instead saw a grey cd with "021" scribbled on it in Denki's signature scrawl.

Shifting your weight onto your knees, you plugged your headphones into the audio jack. You pried the disk from the case and set it down in the drawer and pressed "play".

Your ears were assaulted with a series of beeps and you instinctively ripped your headphones from your ears. What was this??? After calming down, you sighed and carefully put your headphones back on. The beeping continued, and you realized that it was in a specific pattern. You identified it easily as morse code, and you remembered that Denki had taught you it a while back, just in case you had to communicate non-verbally. You used it to share answers on tests and talk in class more than anything, and sometimes to communicate during training. Jirou was the only other person who knew morse code in class 1-A, but you seriously doubted that she knew about this.

You pressed "pause" and removed the disk from the tray. You grabbed a notepad and reassembled the pen that you had dissected to reveal the bottom of the drawer. Sitting back down, you put the CD back into the tray and played it from the beginning.

Focusing completely, you wrote down the corresponding words to the rapid beeps. After about two minutes, the high-pitched beeps ceased completely. You put down your pen and read the message you had translated.

"Monochrome to Sparks. Bi-weekly report for week 11. Recruit for new members has proved successful. Two new villains by the names “Toga” and “Dabi” have joined us. We are still planning for the next attack on UA. Void has used intel for the specific layout of UA to detect weak points in the mainframe successfully. Crusty has suggested that we wait for the current term to finish to make our next move. We may be able to kidnap students of choice if they end up going on a training trip. That is all. Please send your reply at the usual time. Over."

Your jaw went slack. What- what is this? You shakily took the cd out of the drawer and replaced it. You opened up the other game cases that you had removed. They also contained grey disks, some labeled and some blank.

You placed the labeled ones in numerical order and listened to them one by one. The notepad was filled with all of the messages from months of corrospondence. Some had pre-dated the dorm system, so you figured that Denki converted their format to match the ones that were recorded after moving into the dorms to disguise the timeline.

Looking over your work, the puzzle pieces all fell into place. Denki had been working with the LOV for months, even before he came to UA. He had tricked you and your classmates into thinking that he was training to become the next generation of heroes with his charm and jokes. It all made sense, in a twisted way. Who would be better to be the traiter than him? To stupid in school to seem like he could pull it off, but insanely smart outside of the classroom. Was his academic shortcomings a fake too? No, you had sat there with him for hours trying to help him understand logarithms to no avail. He couldn’t of faked the tears of frustration he had before you agreed to go taste all of the flavors of Monster Energy and rank them instead of studying for midterms.

No matter what he had been planning, he still was your boyfriend. He was still your little static boy. Right?

You read over all of the messages over and over until your eyes blurred from tears. You put everything back and silently organized the cables you had pulled out. Shaking, you sat on his bed, clutching the notepad in your hands, waiting for Denki to come back.

After what seemed like forever, you heard his footsteps in the hallway.

When Denki walked in, you could tell he was exhausted.

You put down the notepad and held out your arms to him. He collapsed into you and exhaled, clearly wiped from training. You love him so much it hurts. He means the world to you, and you would do anything for him without hesitation. You solemnly made up your mind.

"Denki..." you started, rubbing his hair. "Mmmmph" he replied, noise muffled by your body. When you didn't respond, he sat up and faced you, rubbing his eyes.

You smiled sadly at him.

"What is it, my little spark?" he asked, his tone strained with worry.

You sighed and handed him the notebook with the messages written on them.

You watched his expression shift from confusion, to horror, to fear, to resignation. He didn't make it through all of the messages. He knew you would find this one day. He had made it so only you would know.

His gaze slowly panned over to the cords under his desk. When he saw that they were neatly organized, he sighed and put down the notebook. "y/n... let me explain... I understand if you turn me in. I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I understand if-" his voice broke and his eyes welled up with tears.

It hurt you so badly to see him like this. You looked over his beautiful face, distorted from the tears in your own eyes.

"Denki, when were you planning to tell me?" You felt so hurt that he kept this from you, but you knew why. How could he tell you? You both were training to be heroes. How was he supposed to tell you that you were part of the League of Villians?

"I- it all happened so fast, and I wasn't supposed to make friends, let alone be in a relationship. The shit hit the fan so quickly that it felt impossible to tell you. When we moved into dorms because of the LOV attack, I knew that I would have to tell you eventually. I set it up so we would know how to communicate in morse code so that you and only you would be able to find the communicator, and so that you would feel comfortable in my room. I just- I just hoped that maybe you would never find out." As he spoke, he moved his hands around feebly, just to let them rest on his lap.

You listened to him in silence. When he was done, you gazed into his honey-colored eyes that were trained dutifully on his bedspread and smiled. "I would burn down the world for you, Pikachu. I wish you would've trusted me with this sooner." You laughed and shook your head. "You are more important to me than you could ever imagine. If you are the UA traitor, if you are part of the League of Villians, so be it. I will shake hands with the devil if it means I will be by your side."

His blonde head snapped to attention. “Y/n...?” He looked at you quizically. This... didn’t sound like you. He knew that you were determined beyond measure to become a hero, and he didn’t expect you to be swayed so easily.

"Please, please, please don't hide anything else from me. I will always be on your side. Don't ever forget that, okay sparky?"

He looked at you, surprised that you weren't telling Aizawa about him at this moment, not that he would stop you. "Okay, my little spark."

"I love you"

"I love you too"

“... do you want to play a video game?”

“you know I do.”

“okay.”

“Hey y/n?”

“yes Denki?”

“let’s burn down the world together”

#mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #bocu no hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #denki x reader #bnha x you

66 notes · View notes

quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH61

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 61: Purgatory Reunion (XIII)

It was dawn.

There was no sun in the Underground Ant City, but Qi Leren still knew by intuition that it was dawn.

Looking at the time again, it was 7:20 in the morning. If he was training with Chen Baiqi, it would be too late. If he left for her place at this time, he would definitely receive the "loving care" of the three-headed hellhound. But for a person who was on a rare vacation, this hour was still too early.

Actually, he could sleep for a while, but... Qi Leren sat up from the bed. Now that he was awake, it was better to make some breakfast for Ning Zhou. The living room here was connected to the kitchen.

Thinking this, Qi Leren jumped out of bed, put on clothes in a hurry, and came to the bedroom door. After a pause, he rubbed his hands and gently turned the door handle, ready to tiptoe out.

As soon as the door opened, the smell of fried eggs filled Qi Leren's nose. He paused and looked straight into the kitchen.

Freshly brewed hot coffee sat on the table, as well as hot sausages and slices of bread. When Ning Zhou heard the sound of the door opening from where he was frying eggs, he looked back at him, smiled, and said, "Good morning."

"Morning." Qi Leren felt that he was still dreaming.

Dreaming... Speaking of which, he seemed to have had a dream last night, but when he thought about it now, he can't remember anything, except that it was a beautiful dream.

Ning Zhou skillfully put the fried eggs on the plate with a spatula, and Qi Leren quickly walked past and picked up the plate to give him a hand.

It wasn’t the first time that Qi Leren saw Ning Zhou cooking. Before the end of the undercover mission with the Slaughter Secret Society and the start of the Holy Nun’s task, he and Ning Zhou had briefly lived together for a while, as it was for the convenience of Ning Zhou training him. At that time, the two people who had had a crush on each other but sought only to endure it tacitly avoided many topics, and even deliberately avoided each other in many cases. The scene of eating together in silence at dusk was still filled with a different kind of warmth.

Restraint ran through this relationship. Even if they had confessed their feelings, they were still restrained.

When you like someone, you can be presumptuous, because the impulse comes so warmly that people get carried away and act rashly. You may even forget to think, and let your instincts dominate you to express your feelings freely, but you don't think whether it will hurt the person you like. Because at that time, you just want it.

However, when you fall in love with someone and want to spend your whole life with him, you lose your courage, become timid, and be swayed by considerations of gain and loss. You start to restrain yourself, learn to pull out the spikes one by one, express your love gently, and don't use the excuse of "love" to hurt your loved one. Because at this time, you want forever.

"I'll brush my teeth first!" Qi Leren put the plate on the table and rushed into the bathroom. He spent one third of the usual time brushing his teeth and didn't wash his face, because he didn't want Ning Zhou to wait too long, but he carefully observed himself in the mirror and combed his messy hair with a wet comb.

After several tens of seconds, Qi Leren sat upright at the dining table with a knife and a fork in hand, and ate breakfast happily.

Qi Leren was not used to this kind of western breakfast. When he was young, his mother often went out to film, and his father threw him a few dollars irresponsibly to buy breakfast for himself. He usually bought youtiao when he was sent away. When his mother was at home, his father would use 18 kinds of cooking skills, from Cantonese-style refreshments to northern noodles, never making the same thing in the same month. The only thing he never made was Western-style breakfast. Qi Leren, who depend on their mother to eat and drink, had no opinion on breakfast at all, and had been used to this for more than 20 years.

The western-style breakfast was a bit too greasy for him, which made his stomach accustomed to youtiao uncomfortable. However, this was made by Ning Zhou, and Qi Leren not only ate it all, but also praised it with a smile. Because of his outstanding acting skills, Ning Zhou didn't see that he was reluctant.

Looking at Ning Zhou's happy appearance, Qi Leren felt willing to act all his life.

After breakfast, they went to the Trial’s Ant City headquarters, which was disguised as a small auction house, where people were busy and didn’t pay much attention to others. Celia, the contact person in charge of the whole branch’s affairs, had stayed up all night. The smell of black coffee was all over the office. She added sugar to it and smiled bitterly: "I sent someone to interrogate Kathleen overnight. I dug up a lot of news."

"What news?" Qi Leren’s spirits rose as soon as he heard it, and he took Ning Zhou and sat down.

"After Kathleen escaped from the Village of Dusk, considering her demon identity, she chose the Underground Ant City where humans and demons live together as her foothold. As luck would have it, an old lover from her early years happened to run an industry for Witches of Greed in the Underground Ant City, so she settled down there. After the Illusionist disappeared, we investigated his whereabouts. He had been to this casino before going to the Dragon Ant Queen’s royal palace. A gambler saw him and was very impressed with him. Later, our informant reported this matter and went to the gambler to verify it, and then disappeared in the underground casino. Kathleen admitted that the informant was in her hands. After torturing the informant who was looking for the Illusionist, she put the underground casino on watch, and then met you while you were investigating while in disguise."

"So, there’s still no news on the Illusionist?" Qi Leren frowned.

"Yes, we still don't know why he went to that underground casino." Celia was also very troubled. "But it’s certain that he eventually disappeared in the Queen Dragon Ant’s palace."

"Last time, you said that entering the palace required the Prophet's decree?" Qi Leren asked.

Celia nodded. "I also wrote about you in the second request, and I will have an answer next week. Until then... I don't have the power to make such a big decision."

Although Celia was in charge of all the Village of Dusk’s affairs in the Underground Ant City, after all, she only acted on the orders of the Prophet. When it came to the Dragon Ant Queen, who was also a field-level master, she had no right to make decisions.

Qi Leren didn't know about the delicate relationship between field-level masters. He didn't even know how many field-level masters there were in the whole Nightmare World—he vaguely remembered that had Su He mentioned it in those days, but now he wouldn't even believe even Su He’s punctuation marks.

"The Dragon Ant Queen, what news is there?" Ning Zhou suddenly asked.

Celia hesitated and shook her head gently. "There is no news... I'm afraid this is the best news. She’s now in the stage of rebirth, and after this... "

It meant that the queen who had dominated the Underground Ant City for more than 20 years would die and give her authority to the new queen.

What kind of attitude would the new queen hold towards humans and demons? Was it closer to the side of humans or demons? Would she expand the Underground Ant City’s sphere of influence, or would she pay more attention to stability and peace in her own field? Which Devil King would she follow? All these were related to the existence of the Underground Ant City in the next ten or twenty years, and people living here were greatly concerned about this problem.

Among the successive Dragon Ant Queens, a few were friendly to human beings. During those times, human beings gained a high status, but most of the time, the Dragon Ant Queens were not friendly to human beings—she would tolerate human beings living in her sphere of influence, but that's all.

"What method is the Dragon Ant Queen’s field passed down through? Is there any idea?" Qi Leren asked curiously. He had learned some things from the intelligence materials, but the method of inheritance was a complete secret.

Celia shook her head. "Most fields decline with the death of their owners, and they will die out in a few decades. There’s a special inheritance method in the Holy See, where the Pope’s field has been perfectly passed down through the ages."

Was the Pope's field Neverland? Qi Leren secretly took a look at Ning Zhou and was caught red-handed.

"The method of condensation is different," Ning Zhou said.

Qi Leren seemed to understand. He knew that Ning Zhou once condensed more than a half-field with the Holy See’s method, but the half-field had been very fragile, and it was broken before it condensed into a field. But now...

He should have condensed the field again, as evidenced by what had happened in the underground casino yesterday.

He would look for an opportunity to talk about this problem in depth with Ning Zhou. He really cared too much about his own force. This evil force brewing destruction meant endless pain for him.

"Oh, as well, I’ve investigated the things that you asked me to, but there are some questions..." Celia took a sip of coffee and explained the matter.

Ashley, Mrs Kathleen's subordinate, had been missing for a month. She could still feel that her subordinate existed, but she couldn't feel where he was. A surprisingly evil force cut off her connection to him.

"She also said that she had once met someone who looked like Ashley. At that time, he was fighting fiercely with a man wielding a tangdao, but she couldn't see clearly because they were too far away. After they left, she took a look at the scene, and there were broken walls. Therefore, Kathleen thinks that she must have seen wrong. Although her subordinate is clever and considerate, his strength is average and it would be impossible for him to fight with such a powerful master," Celia said.

Qi Leren didn't quite agree: "Didn't she say that her subordinate was controlled by an evil force? Maybe it's something like a seed of slaughter?"

"This is also possible, but according to Kathleen's tone, the level of those two people was more than that of someone who’s been parasitized. Moreover, so many days have passed, and there probably aren’t many valuable clues left there, " said Celia.

"Is there anything we can do for you now?" Qi Leren asked.

"With the matters of the Illusionist, we can only wait for the Court’s reply. Other affairs are handled by special personnel. If you have time, you may wish to help us go to the place where Mrs. Kathleen mentioned that she thought she saw Ashley." Celia smiled and looked at them expectantly.

Qi Leren and Ning Zhou exchanged a look, silently reaching an agreement.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

20 notes · View notes

futurewriter2000 · 3 years

Text

Heartless - pt.20

A/N: Somehow... this turned out personal. God help me.

James couldn’t put his finger on the boy. He had never saw him on the school grounds. He would never remember a Slytherin like him. A Slytherin Mulciber would stand by all the time.

“Oi..” James leaned to Sirius and then looked at Remus and Peter in front, who both looked up at him. “Who’s that Slytherin always hanging out with Mulciber? Is he new?” he asked, dragging his hand to his chin and pointing at the Slytherin table.

Remus casually scratched the back of his head to turn around, meanwhile Peter was way too obvious at staring at the newly green-suited boy laughing with Mulciber and Avery at the far corner of the Slytherin table.

“I have no bloody idea.” Remus turned back to James, trying to get another look.

“I dunno.” Sirius squinted his eyes. “There’s oddly something familiar about him.” he added and James punched his shoulder in agreement.

“I know right!” he exclaimed as Sirius surprisingly looked at Remus. James haven’t done this in quite a long time.

Something was back in James. Something small but it was there. And as might as well be the new Slytherin who was the cause.

“I can’t put my finger on it.” James squinted his eyes as well, getting that curious uplift of his lips.

“Wanna prank him?” asked Remus, who had asked this sort of question in his whole Hogwarts years.

“Nah.” James brushed his hand. “I need to know a bit about him.”

“I think his name is Aco. Or that’s how I heard Mulciber calling him.” said Peter, causing Sirius to laugh.

He started chuckling to himself, unable to hold it in. “Imagine being cursed with a name like that.” he continued to chuckle.

“You get a baby and look down on it.” James started to chuckle as well. “His name is Aco.”

Sirius stared laughing a bit louder to the point he tapped James’ shoulder as James started laughing as well, tapping back Sirius arm. Both started wheezing for some unrealistic reason meanwhile Remus couldn’t help himself as well and chuckled as well.

And for that short moment something came back to James. Yellow. But only for a moment before he had realised that he was happy and that you were gone. He looked at “Aco” in the distance and he was giving him a familiar look he couldn’t quite label yet.

Guilt showered James like a storm and he had realised that he shouldn’t be happy. That if you weren’t here, he shouldn’t be happy. For what he did to you, he didn’t deserve happiness.

“You’re rather enjoying yourself.” Mulciber leaned to the boy. “I thought you wouldn’t use your abilities for him.”

“I only promised you I wouldn’t enter his dreams or anything.” he turned to Mulciber, lifting a corner of his dark, sharp eyebrows. “But a little guilt trip wouldn’t hurt him.”

“You’re a snake, (y/n).” he whispered and the boys eyes changed colour from bright green to your usual eye colour, only to sent him a wink.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

To Mulciber it was easier to smile. For him to not grieve after you because really, you weren’t truly gone. Nobody of the Potters knew what had happened that night when they left. None of them knew he appeared in your room, he held you, he suffered the consequences with you but he had also gained more than your trust. He gained your loyalty just as much as you gained his.

He had betaken it upon himself to take care of you that day. It seemed your heart has rather disappeared that night when your family had abandoned you just as he had foreseen. He truly wished you hadn’t experienced that. You had changed from this queer, lovely and innocent girl to a heartless, revenge driven woman. It was attractive and it had been everything he hoped for but there was something much more lighter in the cheery girl before. But he didn’t mind that because the two of you were meant to go through thick and thin. The two of you were meant to grow together and if he had known anything in your special connection is that you will always hold a special light for him. You’re not like the rest. You never will be. To him, you will always represent the hope of his future being more than what his family intended to make out of it. This new version of you... it seems heartless but he knew the depth of you. He could feel you getting excited over certain things as spring flowers or snowflakes in the winter, though you never expressed it. He could also feel the hot-ranged anger in your veins as you had seen James laugh with Sirius for the first time in two months. Relief but anger, a complexion of emotions.

Though it was a nice disguise, the boy you appeared to be, he had always prefered you in your own body.

“You seem brighter.” he said without even looking up from his book.

“I love being Alexi.” you said as you dried your hair with a towel and sat down beside him. “But God knows that I love having my hair and my eyes and my height.” you laughed, putting the towel on your lap as he looked up at you, watching you in admiration and giving you that look that only lasted a few seconds before it disappeared again. “I just wish I could be myself,... you know. Show the people here that I cannot be easily killed.”

He sat up in a criss-cross position and pulled your back to his chest. “Well, beautiful. You’ll surprise them with that news one day... just not today.”

He smelt so sweetly, felt like home when he was with you. Sometimes you wished he would make the first move; to kiss you or hold you so close, closer than anybody before. How you wished he could read the thoughts you had with him- thoughts you kept under lock and key from him to enter. He really didn’t have a clue about you and you always wondered about that. Does he feel the way you feel or is he just pretending? You admired this boy more than your heart could let you. You obsessed over him, over the idea of you. His eyes, his body, his built, his hair... you loved every feature of his, even the a little bit of crooked nose he despised but you adored. It seemed to fit his God-like aesthetic. Like a Greek god if he stood up, not the one with carved muscles and perfectly curly hair but the softness in the cheeks and the most natural, normal English man-like appereance. You would constantly kiss him, if he had permitted you to. To kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin and to run your fingers through his curls that were usually slicked back or rub your thumbs against his thick eyebrows. It wasn’t sexual to you, though sometimes you did think of thoughts like so as well but more than sexual, it felt romantic. The pull, the intesity... all you wanted to be with him is romantic. Just for him to hold you in your arms would be enough, to kiss his lips, to be caressed by him... It felt so much more beautiful to be with him than it has ever been with anybody you had known. Not with Marcus, nor with Sirius. But you were so afraid to tell him how you felt because you had no clue if he had ever felt the same. He gave you looks, signs that he did but sometimes he would act completely differently. So many mixed signals that kept you on holding yourself on the edge; to let go or to still hold. Every thought was about him. You saw a simple object and you would think of him. You’d try and eat, then think if he ever ate the same thing as you. Obsessive- that’s how it felt but if felt trapping as well. You just wished he would tell you or showed you... instead of always being so quiet.

But I guess you will never know.

#mulciber #mulciber x reader #mulciber imagine #mulciber imagines #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #james potter #james potter imagine

28 notes · View notes

chaotically-cas · 3 years

Text

The Wall by Pink Floyd x Ponyboy Curtis Essay (part 1 of 2)

Umm first off I would like to say I know how dumb all of this sounds & I know this is far from intelligent or anything close to a thought I can articulate, so before I get hate for this, I know it’s dumb. So hush.

Anyways.

Tw // talk of death, suicidal ideations/thoughts, trauma, (events from the book)

Like 2.1k words

Also I didn’t fully proof read this

- - -

One of my favorite albums of all time is The Wall by Pink Floyd. It is a two part album that tells the fictional story of a rock star named Pink, and his life and struggles. As it is my favorite album I couldn’t help myself but draw some very strong connections between the story of Pink, and Ponyboy. Pink and Pony both spent their lives building a metaphorical wall around them to help deal with the traumas of life. And I wanted to write this oddly formatted essay in connection with Pony and an analysis of most of the songs.

In The Flesh?: starts off right in the middle, the song is about someone mocking asking questions similar to ‘is this what you expected me to become’? I think this is about the time in Pony’s life when he is writing for his English class. In the song it says, “Tell me, is something eluding you, sunshine? Is this not what you expected to see?”. I think this is similar to Pony thinking about Johnny and symbolizing of how he is thinking to himself on how did this all happen to him and so quickly. Maybe even without his full knowledge. So I think the question the lyrics pose are just as much a genuine question to himself as a rhetorical one. Another lyric I think can show Pony’s reflection not only on the events of the past week but also him reflecting into himself is “If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes. You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise.” This shows how Pony feels himself aging and being changed but also wanting others to see himself for more than what’s in the newspaper. Pony talks a lot about only being seen as a greaser or a hood and maybe if people were to ‘claw through’ that disguise they could see what Cherry and Johnny saw.

The Thin Ice: this song is a flashback to the version of Pony before the events of that Sunday. Where he was not exactly innocent but wasn’t aged like he was after. The beginning of the song talks about a mother and fathers love for their child which is slowly being seen as less of a reality. This is the death of Pony’s parents. “Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice. Appears under your feet. You slip out of your depth and out of your mind.”, this can explain how Pony felt ripped to shreds and like the ice of his innocence has been broken from underneath him. The ice both represents his parents love and life, as well as his life before knowing death the way he does now.

Another Brick In The Wall (part1): I think this one is the most obvious. The first brick being placed in the wall. The wall being a metaphor of how Pony begins to mentally distance himself from others by building a metaphorical wall around himself, and him using different events in his life as ‘bricks’ to build it. The first ‘brick’ and event being the death of his parents, especially in a very traumatic way. “Daddy's flown across the ocean. Leaving just a memory” is quite literally about the death of a parent, making the connection to Pony’s situation go without being said. Additionally, I think the line “Daddy, what else did you leave for me?” can show Pony’s confusion with his life and him beginning to question who he is and what his place in it all is.

Another Brick In The Wall (part 2): something notable and worth mentioning in this part two of ABITW is how it says “youre” another brick in the wall. Instead of “its”. So we already know it is referring to a person, which in Pony’s case is Bob. It’s a bit of a jump from his parents dying but the death of Bob is what truly kick started the whole events of Pony’s story and the book. I think it is also worth mentioning that Johnny could also be the new brick in Pony’s wall. Seeing a kid like Johnny, only a few years older than him but being aged dramatically by his trauma, relating with Pony too now. So it is totally possible that Pony finding himself relating to the trauma and actions of Johnny, being another brick in the wall he is building around himself. Especially in the line “We don't need no education”, as it shows how Pony is starting to feel himself unwittingly starting to fit into the whole ‘greaser’ stereotype that has been placed on him.

Mother: Now this song is definitely in symbolism to his relationship with Darry. I think it is shown through many lines but especially in the overall meaning of the song. The song is about an overprotective mother figure that tries to dominate the life of the singer. Which is very similar to the way Darry begins to treat Pony after the death of their parents. The song starts off with the singer asking their mother all these questions and advice, which I think would be very similar to the dynamic of Pony and Darry shortly after the funeral. With Pony being lost in life and asking Darry for help. But as the song goes on the singer sees how toxic and overpowering the relationship has come in dominating his life. But before that point of view can be fully expressed, the mother takes over and is telling the son about how to feel once again. I think this is exactly how the dynamic between the Curtis brothers has shifted around the day of Bob’s death. Especially with Darry finally pushing Pony, and that being the last straw of Pony realizing the control he no longer wants Darry to have. Most importantly with the lines about the mother pushing her fears onto her child, which seems to be exactly what Darry is doing to Pony. Because Darry sees the same potential in Pony that he had. There are too many lines for me to analyze but I think the most important one has to be the very last line, “Mother, did it need to be so high?”. This is where Pony would be asking Darry why he needed to be and act the way he did, especially to him, and truly beginning the deeper questioning of everything.

Goodbye Blue Sky: this song starts out by a reflection of childhood innocence by the line “Look mummy, there's an aeroplane up in the sky”. This to me is when Pony is running away with Johnny, before going to the park. When his head is too cloudy and juvenile perhaps to think rationally. But then the song fades into questions about ‘frightened ones’ and ‘falling bombs’ which is Pony telling Johnny about how Darry had hit him and in a way he felt like this whole life had been starting to fall apart. The song even states a specific line about running for shelter, which is exactly what Pony does to Johnny. Another obvious connection is the ‘goodbye’ aspect of it. Where Pony and Johnny are running away, in a literal goodbye from Tulsa and their problems. “Goodbye blue sky” can be seen as them saying goodbye to the blue skies of life before the skies turned grey, in a metaphorical sense.

Empty Spaces: this song is by far one of the shortest from the album but I still think the connections are intense. A very powerful start off with “What shall we use. To fill the empty spaces. Where we used to talk?” which I think can be connected to the silence between Johnny and Pony right after Johnny kills Bob. Because Johnny and Pony used to have the best and most honest conversations, but not in this moment there is nothing but empty and painful silence between them as they realize what has just happened. And then the next line is more of Pony’s internal dialogue in my opinion, “How shall I fill. The final places? How should I complete the wall?”. I see it as him asking himself if this was the final event he needed to completely run away and distance himself from this life. From the pressure of ‘greaser life’ to the challenges at home and in his own head. He is asking himself if he wants this to be the final ‘brick’ in the wall of his life.

Young Lust: Now this song is when it is really starting to be expressed that Pony has almost completely lost himself from who he was just hours ago. “I am just a new boy. Stranger in this town. Where are all the good times? Who's gonna show this stranger around?”, is very indicative of Pony feeling completely lost and besides himself. Like a stranger in his own head, and one who feels in bad need of assistance because of how lost he feels. Especially without the guidance and overwhelming protection of Darry. In a sort of broken way of beginning to feel free.

One Of My Turns: In this song is can be connected to the conversation Cherry and Pony were having earlier, which Cherry eluded to the idea of the separate groups of Socs and Greasers not being so fundamentally different. In the line, “Day after day, love turns grey. Like the skin of a dying man” it can be seen as talking about Bob’s death. While it is quite literally referencing the skin of a dying man, I think it could also be metaphoric of how Bob’s death was like the beginning of a bigger thing. In a sort of, death brings even more tragedy than one body, sort of ideal. Also, “And night after night, we pretend it's all right. But I have grown older. And you have grown colder. And nothing is very much fun anymore” I think this is about Pony and Johnny. Pony feels like he has aged tremendously in one night, and seeing Johnny grow into a completely different and more ‘cold’ version of his best friend. The song goes on to discuss the singers feelings of numbness, regret, and horror in a series of metaphors and questions. Maybe in reference to possible suicidal ideations, much like the thoughts Johnny expressed earlier in the day.

Don’t Leave Me Now: I think don’t leave me now isnt as important of a song to the story line the rest but still worth mentioning because I see it as a conversation between Pony and himself. He is asking himself to not run away and telling himself that it doesn't have to be the end of the road, when deep down he knows that just isn’t true. He is conflicted about running away and staying to face life, even though he knows the decision he already made.

Another Brick In The Wall (part 3): And Pony finally deciding to run away with Johnny, with help from Dally, is the last brick in his wall. “I don't need no arms around me. And I don't need no drugs to calm me.”, can show the true numbness of the situation and how Pony has already adjusted in a way to how different he knew his life was gonna be after this final event and decision. But in a way he is also unsure if exactly what was going to happen now. I think this is best shown through the use of ‘think’ in the line “Don't think I need anything at all”. It shows that while Pony is trying to figure out where to go from here, he still has a bit of that child like innocence in him where he isn’t completely sure of what needs to happen next, but he knows it won’t work out in his favor. Because he knows that back in Tulsa people are bound to figure out it was him and Johnny behind it all, which would make them “all just bricks in the wall”, to Ponyboy.

Goodbye Cruel World: there isn’t no extravagant connection to be made or discussed in detail about this song, as it is just even more of Pony saying goodbye to life as jr knew it and the innocent child like version of himself. “Goodbye all you people. There's nothing you can say. To make me change. My mind” is exactly what I think Pony would have going through his head as he fell asleep on the train, especially in thoughts about Soda and how he couldn’t even stay for him, because that meant changing the entire outcome of the night. And in his mind nothing could change the fact that he and Johnny needed to go.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders ponyboy

26 notes · View notes

lumau · 3 years

Text

beyond reach

Missing scene:

After the abrupt end of events in The Invisible Library, Vale is left behind.

Singh looked around at the destruction surrounding them, the ripped up flooring, the upturned furniture, the bodies… He had seen his fair share of catastrophes and scenes of crime in his time of service. The horrific state of this former office could still somehow be explained by- well, some sort of explosion, perhaps? And while it was not a big surprise to find the latest head of the Iron Brotherhood dead amongst this mess, it would be extremely difficult to explain why her remains were completely lacking of intestines, bones, blood or flesh.

The carcasses of silverfish that littered the floor were just as odd an occurrence as the previously reported stuffed animals that had sprung to life at the Museum just about an hour ago. Not even to mention the sightings of what witnesses described as a dragon circling in the sky above the British Library.

And he was actually not at all surprised that his friend Vale stood in the middle of the debris, dusty, ruffled and bloody, with an uncharacteristic distant look on his usually sharp face. The Vale he knew was in his element when faced with a scene of crime – the more inexplicable, the better. This detective did not seem to feel inspired to search the room, crawl around on his knees to fish for shrapnel in the dust or snap at careless officers who might wander across possible tracks. When faced with strange events, he had rarely seem him so clearly lacking sprite and almost… defeated? Maybe that.

He touched his friend’s elbow, and thereby snapped him out of his staring blankly ahead.

“Mr. Vale. You told me, the problem was resolved? That the, ehm… perpetrator behind these occurrences has been defeated?”

Vale straightened his shoulders, regaining some of his usually grand air.

“Indeed, that’s what I said. And yes, the criminal has been fought off, sadly he disappeared before an arrest could be attempted. My understanding is that he will have left our... domain for good. As apart from this unfortunate explosion you can’t hold any charges against him, an overall success, one might say.”

Singh frowned. None of this made sense, neither the destruction to the room, the lack of a body of the criminal nor the absolute absence of their strange… visitors. And Vale’s whole demeanour and tone did not match his words. Whatever had happened here, there must be more to it than his friend could convey right now, apparently, in front of the other officers and panicked library director.

“Very well, I thank you for promptly alerting me about this event. I have to ask you to meet me later, to give a full report of the event you witnessed. You may leave for now.”

They shared a brief look of silent understanding, Vale nodded, and strode off, debris and insects crunching underneath his soles. Singh’s gaze followed him, before focussing back to the matters at hand.

Right. To work.

It went without saying, that they would meet in their currently agreed upon meeting spot, where they came together in disguise whenever they had to discuss secret or private matters.

The pub was already brimming when Singh entered, and after a stop at the bar he found his way to the corner table that Vale occupied, bend low over his beer and newspaper.

A few moments passed until they could be sure to have fallen off anyone’s radar and blended into the general atmosphere of the room.

“Now? What in heaven’s name went on here today?” Singh leaned slightly forward across the table. He had had a long day and his head was still swimming when he thought of the potential cover stories he had mapped out already. Being friends with London’s Great Detective had certainly always been useful and exciting, but never had they encountered such strange events before.

Vale stayed hunched over his drink without looking up, but began to tell Singh in a low voice all that had happened. It was no use to interrupt with questions, as there was no way the detective would leave out relevant facts. His recollection was fast, brisk and entirely sober, apart from a few small waves of emotions that showed in a little twitch in the others face or a tremor to his voice. To any outsider, they might simply discuss current news or politics.

When he had finished, Singh took his chance to inquire more in depth about some of the wilder parts- some Vale chose rather not to elaborate more on, especially in connection to that Zeppelin ride, and Singh knew better than to prod him. The whole tale was incredible enough.

“I can’t believe that they just left? Including Madame Bradamant,” Singh shook his head, and took a pretended sip from his beer, “She did not even return those stolen books, and we shall accept that she just went beyond our reach? Frustrating as it is, I can’t deny I am relieved this extremely peculiar business seems to be done with now.”

He did not get an answer, and looking up, he saw that Vale was brooding in a sombre manner that was heavily amplified by his faux grimy beard and make up. This was not the triumphant, exuberant, satisfied Vale he usually found after solving a case. A thought occurred to him.

“Listen, could it be that you are in distress about your new friends leaving?” he inquired tentatively.

Vale snorted. “Friends? Hardly. You should know me better than to think I would so easily care for casual acquaintances!”

Singh raised an eye brow, taken aback by the harsh reaction. He could not help but feel somewhat hurt by that statement himself. Vale must have noticed his reaction, and he seemed to tame his mood a bit.

“Good man, I did not mean to devalue our connection. You know I count you as one my most trusted allies.” He took another swig, and stared into his almost empty glass. “But tell me, how could I feel anything but antipathy towards total strangers who come into our city and bring with them a wave of illogical, supernatural occurrences and leave a trail of destruction, before simply vanishing with no sense of accountability for their actions?”

There was a passionate undertone to his voice, that did not match the detached attitude his former words wanted to convey. Maybe there was more behind this whole affair than he had thought, Singh mused.

“How can you even suggest that I might consider these people my friends, when all they clearly care about is their own dubious agenda? Strongrock is merely a young agent and following his orders, but did it seem to you that Miss Winters was acknowledging anything or anyone beyond the scope of her mission?”

“Listen, I am the first to condemn any stranger who brings their personal quarrels to our city, as I have to deal with the mess afterwards. So, if you ask me, good riddance!”

Singh pretended to take another sip of his drink. If this went on much longer, he’d have to find a way to let it vanish somehow to not attract suspicion. “But are you not a bit harsh in your judgement there? After all, they were the victims of a traitorous and highly dangerous criminal at large.”

Singh was used to being very honest with Vale, as far as his profession allowed. Anything but would not pass the detective’s sensors anyway. He now felt he was slowly sliding towards thin ice though. On the one hand, Vale was not a person to be generally open to discuss personal matters, and usually didn’t seem to have any reason why he might want to either. On the other hand, Singh had known Vale for long enough to know his mood swings and what they often entailed. The detective functioned best under a certain amount of stress and with enough mystery to occupy his ever active mind. In those querulous times between cases, or moments of general stagnation, he was prone to self-destructive patterns and had his ways to cope. Singh knew how he tended to deal with those phases, and he did not approve.

Just now, during these last days, he had seen his friend flourish after a longer, rather inactive time. He had already been worried that the detective might default to the morphine use again - when the ominous cat burglar case began and shortly after the two strangers turned up in his London.

These few days since their arrival had completely changed Vale’s state of sullen apathy, just the kind of riddle his mind needed to not run empty – and now, without a moments notice, they were gone from this world and beyond their reach. Singh could understand the detective’s frustration at having to accept an end to a case that left them without conviction, while it happened in their city, matters had been taken out of their hands. And Vale would even have to report back to his mother that he had been unable to retrieve the stolen manuscript.

A shadow of worry crossed Singh’s mind, as he wondered what this sudden turn of events might do to Vale, and although it was against his usual better judgement, he found a softer tone and decided to push further.

“After all that you went through with Miss Winters and Mr. Strongrock, don’t you feel you deserve better than a brief farewell? I would not blame you for feeling bothered by how this whole affair ended.”

Vale seemed to consider, then emptied his glass in one last swig.

“I must admit to some resentment. Not towards Miss Winters or Mr Strongrock, but myself. All the evidence was there, I had to know that they would finish their matters in the way suitable to their agenda, and then leave for… that Library, without looking back.”

With a somewhat dramatic sigh, Vale stood up from his chair and looked down at the inspector.

“And yet, I have entertained some hope, that clouded my judgement. You see, even I am a fool sometimes.”

“Honestly, I’d rather forget what we learned about those other worlds and that Library and all… Who knows, what else might enter London? I don’t like any of this. Not at all.”

Singh shook his head and rose as well, and with a nod, Vale let him pass to lead the way towards the exit. The implications of potential new threats did worry him, yes, just like the strangely afflicted state of mind his friend was showing. He would keep an eye on him, and, although this was not a very suitable thought for a policeman, he hoped that a new case would come up soon, one even more enthralling, to occupy his mind and distract him from his dark temper.

#the invisible library #fanfiction #missing scene #peregrine vale #inspector singh

14 notes · View notes

drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Letters of Love and Longing (3)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce x f!MC (Aisha Khurrana)

Letters of love and Longing Masterlist

Requested by @anotherbeingsworld- #47, #54, #90

Year: 1942 Location: HMS Carlisle, A convoy in the Atlantic Ocean bound to Britain

Ever Dearest Aisha,

I hope you are well when this letter finds you. Though it has been a mere month since our last meeting, it feels as if I have been absent from you too long. It particularly bewilders me how much my affections for you keep on growing to unfathomable depths. I hope that you feel the same way.

As I board this ship my thoughts keep on going back to our first meeting. I am aware that I was unconscious at death’s door when they rolled me into the hospital after that brutal attack at Pearl Harbour. It took us as a surprise and it was too late to retaliate. We lost so many good men… I lost many of my friends who I mourn to this day.

I was certain that I was going to die.

But then you happened. You brought me back to life as if you were my guardian angel was not ready to have me leave this world so soon hence, he sent you- a blessing in disguise. You nursed me back to health and healed me with such tender affection that not even my mother nor my father has shown me. All my life I had waited for that; then, when one had sacrificed so many human affections, it happened. It was a gift from the gods. Though you may never know, I ought to be contented.

Now you probably know why I call you “Angel”. A blessing in disguise.

In the past seven months, we have grown to be closer… more than acquaintances or dare I say, friends. You are the person for me. From the jesting around to the dancing in the rain to the shared kisses and to the nights, we made love… You are someone I would like to spend entire eternity with. You mean more to me than anyone in the world, yet I have never seen your handwriting. That brings home to me vividly how much we are strangers.

But time means nothing when there is a true connection of the souls. I know you feel it too… I see it in your earthy brown hues every time you are in my arms. We never felt the need to exchange letters since we were always living close. This is perhaps the first time I have written a letter addressed to you. I just wanted this to be a letter to just brief you but, this letter feels more like a love declaration.

Everything I do is a love letter addressed to you.

As you are aware, I am right now aboard one of the convoys bound to Britain to deliver food and goods along with some immigrants. It might be a while till I meet you again and it hurts that I won’t be able to kiss your lips every morning or hear your tinkling laugh. Did you know that I act like a jokester just to hear the most favourite sound in my world?

I don’t think it is a good time to mention my trepidation. As you know from the papers, every convoy bound from the States to Britain has been sunk by the German U-boats. Hitler is trying to sink all the ships with goods and people so that Britain is isolated and dies from the rampant hunger and starvation. I swear if I were to meet this rat-faced man, we would have a nice talk which mainly includes me using my fists.

But, I am terrified, Aisha… I don’t want to die so soon when I just met you. I have never been afraid to die for my country but everything has changed since I met you. Hence, the love letter so that there are no regrets on the words unsaid.

I love you as a man loves only once, and I may have but a few hours.

I don’t want to alarm you unnecessarily. I have plenty of fight left in me and a man who could survive the bombing in Pearl Harbour and survive anything.

I will live for you and our future. You should be aware that when I am back I am going to ask for your hand in marriage.

I love you, Angel. You are in my thoughts every waking moment of my day and in every sweet dream at night. Take care and write soon.

All my heart,

Bryce ♥

I recently watched The Imitation game so I thought why don't I flex a bit on the entire convoy and all 😅

In reality, HMS Carlisle was bombed by the Germans and there weren’t many survivors BUT Bryce survived the bombing and shortly resigned from his positions. The man was caught in the Pearl harbour bombing too for fuck’s sake and let him live in peace with Aisha 😩

Lol look at me rambling away lol anyways, I hope you liked it and reblog, comment and share your thoughts.

Permanent taglist: @bellcat2010 @choices-fangirl-yeet @chaotic-ramsay-queen @ramseysno1rookie @chasingrobbie @kimmiedoo5 @chaotic-pixie @akshara16 @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj @bratzlahela @ac27dj @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile @monsoonblooms12 @maurine07 @choices-love-affair @kaavyaethanramsey @drariellevalentine @agent-breakdance @justanotherrookie @mvalentine @greenbean-kylie @choices-addict @trappedinfanfiction @colossalpainintheass @jamespotterthefirst @queencarb @starrystarrytrouble @mrsdrakewalkerblog @lilypills @dr-ramseys-rookie @arcticlumineer @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @anonymously-cool @choicesstan1 @nooruleman

#anushka writes #open heart #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #aisha khurrana

46 notes · View notes

jjoutermaybanks · 4 years

Text

Electric Love || JJ Maybank x Reader

part one part two part three

summary: you’re the newest member of the pogues, a girl living with one foot in the rich life and one foot in the risky life. you fit right in with the crew, especially the charismatic, annoyingly attractive JJ. how will a drunken night of deep conversation and a dreaded summer party change your friendship forever?

word count: 6k

warnings: time to get ~smutty~

(also rubber up kids no glove no love don’t do it like Y/N and JJ)

*not my gif, credit to owner*

PART THREE

The end of the party finally came, after what felt like an eternity of waiting and avoiding JJ. Sarah had to go home with her dad and Rose to celebrate whatever award he’d received, but she swore to meet up with you all tomorrow. Pope claimed the same thing; his dad had wanted him to work the event, not attend, so he felt obligated to spend the night at his own house. Kiara didn’t mind doing whatever, and John B. looked to me to see what I wanted.

“Want to come back to the Chateau with us?” he asked softly, and Kiara nodded in support.

“We can watch a movie and raid John. B’s snack stash.” Her brown eyes were warm and hopeful, and you knew what they were trying to do. By now everyone had heard--or seen, more likely--what JJ had done. He’d flaunted the brunette all night, at one point blatantly making out with her in the middle of the party. Kie had tried to make you feel better by calling him an asshole and swearing she’d kick his ass, but this didn’t really help. You didn’t hate JJ; quite the opposite, in fact. Calling him an asshole didn’t soften the pain, because it only made you remember all the times he wasn’t an asshole. Like when he carried you home after you split your foot open on a rock, or the time when you were miserable after a fight with your mom and he stayed up half the night at the Chateau cracking jokes just to make you smile.

“That sounds amazing,” you conceded, taking a deep breath before adding, “but I can’t. My mom is gonna want to hear all about my night, and more importantly gossip about hers, so...I’ll see you guys later.” Your smile was forced, but after John B. gave you a hug it became more natural. No matter how rocky your relationship was with JJ right now, you knew you had true friends in the other Pogues.

As you made your way through the dwindling crowd, a familiar blonde appeared in front of you. At first JJ didn’t see you, looking around for someone else. And then his eyes landed on you, taking in your broken expression and sagging shoulders. You noticed his undone bow tie, hanging limply by his neck despite the expert job you’d done on it earlier. His hair was messy, and his shirt was almost entirely untucked. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why he looked like this, and your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

His jaw set, eyes steeling as they met yours. “Going to find Rafe?” His tone was clipped, a slight smirk twisting his pink lips that dug into your heart like a knife.

You attempted to appear unaffected by him, raising your chin with a blank look. “No, I’m not, actually. Not that you’d believe me either way.” Your fists clenched by your sides as you stood your ground. JJ raised his eyebrows, disguising his reaction with a smirk.

For a second, his lips parted as if to say something. Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a slender hand snaking around his waist, belonging to the brunette. She was even prettier up close, in a fake tan, perfect teeth kind of way. She gave you a calculating look, causing heat to rise in your cheeks.

JJ cleared his throat, throwing an arm loosely around her shoulder as they breezed right by you. Just as he passed, you caught JJ’s eye; the look he gave you was chilling, his eyes icy and distant. Goosebumps raised on your skin at the sheer frigidity of his demeanor, but you had to push this aside. It didn’t matter, you shouldn’t care so much.

You repeated this mantra all the way home, until you closed the front door behind you and collapsed against the wall. You could hear your mother bustling in the kitchen, surely on cloud nine after tonight. Working up all the energy you had to talk to her, you trudged into the kitchen.

“Y/N! Finally! Wasn’t that just splendid?” Your mother had taken off her gaudy dress and was now in a robe, but still had her hair and makeup done. She looked like a clown, and you knew if JJ were here you two would be laughing about it.

“It was...fine,” you said simply. Honestly, you didn’t even pay attention to the party itself, your thoughts too preoccupied by something else. This didn’t please your mother, however, who then launched into a lecture about how ungrateful you were and that you should show more appreciation for her hard work.

“Look, Mom,” you interrupted after letting her rant and rave for five minutes. “I’m exhausted. Can we fight about this later?” It was no point trying to end the argument; you two were always in a constant combative state. If it wasn’t about the party, it would be about your reckless friends, or your laziness, or the fact that you were never home.

Your mother scoffed. “Fine, avoid confrontation, take the easy way out like you always do. One day you’ll have to take responsibility, you know!” she called after you, but you’d stopped paying attention and slammed the door to your room before she even finished.

The next day you reconvened with the Pogues as planned. Almost all of the Pogues, that is. JJ didn’t show up to your usual meeting place at the dock, and no one had heard from him.

“I wonder where he could be,” Sarah fretted. It wasn’t like JJ to just ghost on you.

Pope rubbed his arm uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes. You could sense he had something to say, and sighed. “Spit it out, Pope.”

He nodded. “It’s just...I think he’s probably with that girl from the party. If I had to take a guess, that is. I could be totally wrong--” He rambled on, trying to soften the blow of an idea you’d already thought of. You knew Pope was probably right. JJ had most likely spent the night with the girl, and he wasn’t the type of guy to just skip out on someone the next morning. You were almost irritated at how chivalrous he was.

“It’s fine, you guys,” you stated, hating how your stupid feelings were affecting the group. “Let’s just move on, alright? What do we have planned for today?”

And it actually was fine, for the most part. Pope needed help fixing his dad’s boat, and so the day was spent working out mechanics and laying around in the sun. Sarah relayed all of the Kook gossip to you and Kie, and it was pretty entertaining hearing about the problems of Outer Banks princesses. Even when the day was winding to a close with no word from JJ, you already felt slightly better. The pain always subsided, it just took a little time. And with the added distance JJ had apparently decided to put between you two, the process would be even easier.

However, after a third day without seeing JJ, you started to worry. Even the other Pogues had started to wonder what had happened to him. It wasn’t like JJ to skip out on all of you, and you knew he valued friendship over everything else. No girl could have changed him this much, no matter how pretty she was.

“At what point do we file a missing person’s report?” you questioned on the fourth afternoon, sitting on the dock beside Pope as he worked on the finishing touches of his dad’s boat. It was just the two of you, so you felt comfortable enough to voice your fears.

Adjusting his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes, Pope cast you a doubtful glance. “I don’t think the cops around here would care too much if we said he was missing,” Pope admitted. “I mean, it’s JJ. He’s gotten in so much trouble before they might even be happy he’s AWOL.”

Hearing the harsh words stung your heart, but you knew they were true. Sensing your grimace, Pope sighed, setting down his tools to sit beside you. “I’m sorry, that was mean.”

“Not mean,” you murmured. “Just true.”

Pope was quiet for a while, and you both watched your hazy reflections in the water before you. Your feet swished in the murky depths as thoughts swam around your mind. After a few minutes, he spoke up again. “What exactly went down between you and JJ? Other than the kiss thing with Rafe.” Pope’s question was innocent, and you knew you owed him an explanation. The only problem was you didn’t even know how to explain it to yourself.

Inhaling deeply, you shrugged. “With JJ it’s always been...different. We’re best friends, of course, but sometimes it felt like more. The way he talked to me, the way he looked at me...I knew he wanted something else, but I was too scared to give it to him.”

“Why?” Pope asked you. “This is just me guessing, but I feel like you maybe liked him too.”

You smiled. “It was that obvious, huh?” Your thoughts drifted to JJ, and for the first time in a while you let your true emotions speak. You remembered his bright blue eyes, how you felt when they connected with your gaze. You remembered his charming smile, how it always managed to banish the darkness. Frowning slightly, you responded, “I don’t know why I was scared...maybe because I’ve never had anything serious with anyone before? Maybe I was too worried about ruining our friendship. I had a lot of excuses, but none of them were good enough to ever get rid of the feelings fully.”

Pope nodded along as you spoke, understanding as ever. “That’s how I feel about Kiara,” he told you, surprising you with his honesty. “I’m crazy about her, but I’d hate to ruin what we have now.”

You nudged his shoulder. “You can’t live in fear, Pope. You have to make a move or you’ll never know.” You also knew Kiara would be thrilled if he actually confessed his feelings.

He smiled at you, eyes full of amusement. “Exactly, and that’s what you should do too.” Rolling your eyes at his reverse logic, you chuckled and shook your head.

“You’re right, obviously. I just need to get over myself.” You knew this was the answer all along, but talking with Pope made it that much clearer. The next time you saw JJ, you would confront him, and whatever happened would be worth it because at least you tried.

But you didn’t know when you’d see him next. He’d been gone for so long, it was anybody’s guess when he’d be back. You didn’t know how long you could wait before all of this newfound bravery was gone.

Getting to your feet quickly, you grinned at Pope. “You know what? That’s just what I’m going to do. I’m going to find JJ.”

Standing up as well, Pope furrowed his brows. “Uh, how? No one’s seen him for days.”

Waving your car keys in the air, you said, “I’ll drive around the whole damn island before I give up. He has to be somewhere around here, right?” You let this brief optimism fuel you as you climbed into your car, firing up the engine and rolling down the window to hear Pope.

He leaned his forearms on the door, peering into the car with a skeptical glance. “Look, Y/N, I’m all for you shooting your shot and following your heart. But...if it leads you nowhere, try not to be too devastated, okay?”

You nodded, hoping your smile was convincing enough to soothe Pope’s worries. You heard what he was saying and took it to heart; for all you knew JJ would laugh in your face when you told him how you felt. But you had to try, or you’d live the rest of your life regretting it.

For the next few hours, you drove around the whole island, searching all the usual spots for JJ. He wasn’t anywhere near the docks, he wasn’t hanging out in The Wreck. You drove through The Cut to no avail, even getting out to ask a few locals if they’d seen him. Refusing to give up, you tried Figure 8 next, thinking that maybe he’d been spending his days terrorizing Kooks. But he wasn’t there either, and once you’d searched everywhere imaginable you slowed to a stop on the side of the road, smacking the wheel out of frustration.

Where the hell are you, JJ? Biting your lip and peering out at the empty street, you wracked your brain for any place you’d overlooked. After a minute of thinking, only one place came to mind. It was so obvious you’d figured he would never go there. You also didn’t think he’d want to set foot anywhere near it.

His house.

You’d only been there once, but with all the Pogues there with you. JJ had needed to get something from inside, and the tension in the air when John B. pulled the van up to the run-down shack was suffocating. Your heart had never beat harder than when you were waiting for JJ to reemerge, hopefully unscathed. After a painful twenty minutes, he’d finally come out, but with a few bruises and scratches to show for it.

When he’d slid into the seat beside you, he said nothing about what had happened inside. And you hadn’t asked, either, knowing that wasn’t what he wanted. So you simply leaned your head against his shoulder, praying that he knew you were there for him. His only reaction to this had been to kiss the top of your head, and that was all you needed to know he understood.

Now, the thought of going back there terrified you. It was truly the last possible option, and you knew you had to check it before giving up on your mission. But the thought of going to that place where so much hurt had occurred...you almost prayed not to find JJ, because that meant he was safe from his father.

Hands shaking as you drove, you tried to compose your breathing. It was a short drive, too short for the amount of mental preparation needed. You parked the car and turned it off, staring out at the seemingly quiet exterior of the house. Appearances were deceiving, though; you knew the horrors that took place behind those walls.

Sucking in a breath, you forced the door open and began to walk towards the house. No point in dawdling, you had a job to do. But as you came closer and closer, you began to hear something. It was a sound you’d seldom heard before, but one that haunted your sleep for weeks on end.

It was the sound of JJ screaming.

Automatically you froze, your entire body immobilized by his voice. Along with his voice was another, a man’s, yelling just as loud. There was a harsh crack, followed by a deep thump that made you flinch. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, and terror overtook your body.

All of a sudden the front door flung open. The shouts were clearer now, and you glimpsed JJ wrestling out of someone’s grip. His blonde hair was stained with something, his ripped tank top smeared as well. Your heart sank when you realized it was fresh red blood.

JJ’s grunts echoed in your ears as he fought, and the sound of a fist cracking against someone’s face made your eyes shut tight. But they quickly reopened when his father hollered angrily, and you saw JJ rushing towards you.

“Y/N?!” he cried, completely stupefied that you were here. Struggling to form words, you felt your eyes well with tears. But JJ didn’t stop to console you, instead grabbed your arm and ripped you back. It was then you saw his father barreling out the door as well, pure malice in his black eyes.

Slamming into your car, you fumbled with the door and held your breath as JJ collapsed into the passenger seat. “Fucking drive!” he snapped, and you didn’t hesitate before flooring the gas and sending the car jerking into motion. JJ’s father stumbled to the ground, and you watched his figure recede in the rearview mirror.

Gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles were white, you swallowed hard before risking a glance at JJ. If you were stunned before, this was a whole new level of shock. Not only was his shirt and hair stained with blood, but it was dripping from a deep gash in his forehead and cut in his lip. Purple bruises dotted his face, and one of his eyes was a gruesome black color.

You took a shaky breath, swerving accidentally as your shell shock distracted you. JJ immediately lunged to grab the wheel, and the car lurched violently as you hit the brakes.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, eyes hooded with anger as he glared at you. “Can you drive?”

You couldn’t speak, your heart hammering too loudly to think straight. JJ saw the pure fear in your eyes, and instantly softened, his tense shoulders slackening as he pushed his matted hair off his face.

“Shit,” he muttered, staring out at the road in front of you. “What the fuck were you doing at my house?” His tone was a mixture of anger and genuine concern, and it took everything in you not to cry.

“I-I was looking for you,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “You disappeared, and I...I missed you.”

JJ’s face flashed with anguish for a brief second, before he heaved a sigh. “You know the shit that happens at my house,” he said quietly. “What if you’d...what if you got hurt?”

Sniffling, you twisted in the seat to face him. “I don’t care, I had to see you--”

“I care, dammit! I fucking care if you get hurt or not,” he retorted angrily. You shrank back at the hostility in his tone, and when he saw your reaction JJ pressed a hand to his face. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to yell, it’s just...” His glazed over, as if with tears. “If anything had happened to you back there, if my dad had even laid a hand on you--”

Reaching out to touch his shoulder, you shook your head quickly. “But he didn’t, I’m fine.” When he didn’t look at you, you leaned closer and tried to meet his gaze. Finally he conceded, and watery blue eyes met yours. “Let me take you somewhere,” you begged. “You need to be cleaned up, see if you should go to the hospital.”

JJ tensed. “I’m not going to any damn hospital, Y/N.”

Worried he’d get angry again, you rubbed his arm soothingly and smiled. “Okay, no hospital. Just please let me take care of you?” JJ leaned back against the seat, struggling to breathe normally. After a second, he finally nodded, and you started up the car.

Thankfully your mother had chosen this week to go out of town. It had been nice having the house to yourself, and now especially you were grateful to be alone when you walked through the front door. Holding JJ’s hand, you led him upstairs into the bathroom and had him lean against the counter.

Finding what little first-aid materials you had, you joined him in the bathroom and shut the door. Rifling through the box you found only a couple band-aids and some disinfectant. Biting your lip, you grabbed a washcloth and wet it in the sink. JJ watched your actions closely, arms folded in a guarded position to protect himself. Your heart ached at the thought of him in pain, and you had to force tears out of your eyes a few times.

“Look at me,” you instructed softly, trying to compose yourself when his blue eyes turned to you. You focused on his cuts, gently touching the wet washcloth to the wounds. JJ winced when you made contact, and you placed a hand on his thigh to calm him down. Working slowly and methodically, you cleared off most of the blood from his face, still horrified by the purple bruises that remained on the skin.

A particularly deep cut on his eyebrow refused to stop bleeding, and you moved to press the washcloth to the wound. But JJ resisted, ducking away from you.

“You don’t need to clean me up like a child, Y/N,” he growled, making you press your lips together in a thin line.

“I’m not,” you answered plainly. “Please, just hold still.” He complied, and you pressed the cloth to his eyebrow. JJ hissed at the pain, and you held back a grimace. The thought of you hurting him devastated you, but you also knew he needed to be cleaned up.

JJ was refusing to meet your eyes at this point, anger practically rolling off of him. It was hard to breathe in such a small space, and you found yourself getting lightheaded after a while. When JJ’s eyebrow stopped bleeding, you decided it was time to move on.

“Okay, take your shirt off.” You needed to inspect the bruises there to make sure he didn’t have a broken rib or internal bleed.

But JJ wasn’t having it, and he jumped off the counter. “No way, we’re done here. I’ve got shit to do.” He went to leave, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Wait, please!” He stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Please, JJ. Let me help you. I just...I want to know what happened, and what I can do to make it better.”

Finally he faced you again. A thousand emotions sparked behind his eyes, and he clenched his teeth to fight off emotion. “Why? Why do you care?”

Parting your lips, you said, “Because you’re my best friend.”

He winced, and panic flared in your chest. “Best friends,” he echoed, sounding hollow and uncaring.

Panic flared in your chest, and you grabbed his hands. “More than best friends, JJ. I--” You didn’t know how to finish that statement. You knew how you felt, but you didn’t know if you could handle rejection right now. JJ’s expression changed when he heard you start speaking, but when you stuttered his brow lowered over his eyes.

“You kissed Rafe, Y/N,” he reminded you, causing you to sigh.

“I didn’t,” you forced, hoping he actually understood. “I know what it looked like, but I promise you, I did not want to kiss him.”

A few seconds passed, his expression still furious. “You mean that bastard kissed you without permission?” At your slight nod, he huffed. “I’m gonna kill him with my bare hands--”

“No, no, JJ!” you quickly interrupted, stepping closer so you could press your hands to his chest. “Don’t kill anyone, not for me.”

Gazing down at you, he lifted a hand to rest on the side of your neck, igniting sparks where his fingers fell. “For you, I’d do anything,” he whispered, and your heart flipped.

But then you frowned. “What about the girl from the party? The Kook?” It hurt just to mention her, and the guilt that flashed across JJ’s face only hurt you more.

“She was...nothing. She meant nothing,” he explained, willing you to understand with his eyes. “I don’t even know what I was thinking.” His hand on your neck moved up to wipe a stray tear off your cheek. “The whole time I was with her I was...thinking of someone else.”

Your heart stopped beating. “S-someone else?” There was no oxygen left in the room at this point.

JJ brought another hand over so he was cradling your face, looking deeper into your eyes than he ever had before.

“You.”

Once the word left his mouth that was it. You grabbed his neck and pulled him down to meet your lips, kissing him with all the fervor you’d had stored up in you for weeks.

After imagining this very moment for so long, you couldn’t believe how good it felt. JJ’s lips fit yours like a glove, and the taste was something you would never get over. He was warm and firm in all the right places, and his body reacted to yours like you’d been in sync for your whole life.

You were careful to avoid his injuries, your hands gentle on his chest and your mouth light by his busted lip. Despite how delicate he was in this moment, JJ didn’t let this inhibit his passion as he kissed you with a wild vigor.

His fingers wound through your hair, tugging slightly and eliciting a moan from your throat. The sound must have turned him on, because JJ exhaled deeply. His teeth grazed your lower lip, biting down gently as his hands pulled at your hair again. His back was up against the door, and your hand slithered out to grab the handle.

A smirk played across his mouth as you stumbled into the hallway. “Going somewhere?” he murmured into your ear, breath washing over the shell causing you to shiver.

“Trying to find a bed,” you purred, and his eyes darkened at the words. You pushed him towards your bedroom, closing the door behind you as he fell back onto the bed. You wasted no time in straddling his hips, legs on either side of his thighs as you kissed his lips fervently.

Disconnecting your mouths for a brief second, you pulled your shit over your head, tossing it onto the floor and gazing down at JJ as he took in your bare chest. His hands slowly slid up your torso, igniting fire where his fingers touched, until he reached your breasts and you sucked in a breath. He kneaded your breasts, thumb swiping over your hardening nipples. JJ leaned up to press his lips to your skin, swirling his tongue around your nipple and making more moans of pleasure echo through the room.

“JJ,” you whined as you felt his teeth on your sensitive bud, hands wrapped in his blond locks. As he focused on your chest you expertly slid off your shorts, panties going along with them, and settled with your exposed core on his thigh. He felt your heat there and growled, the sound low and sexy in his throat. You kissed up his neck until you found a sweet spot that had his hips bucking, and as you nibbled at his sensitive skin you began to grind against his thigh.

“Holy shit--” he stuttered, hand skimming down your naked back to guide your hips. You giggled into his collarbone, swiping your tongue across his glistening skin.

Tired of the layers still shielding his body from you, you sat back and started lifting his shirt. Once the fabric was tossed onto the floor, you glanced down and gasped at what you saw.

If the bruises on his face were bad, the ones on his body were a hundred times worse. They were huge and the deepest purple color you’d ever seen, littering his ribcage and abdomen. You could practically feel them aching just by looking at them, and suddenly you were afraid to touch him.

JJ sensed the horror you felt, and shifted so he was leaning back on his elbows. “Y/N,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I’m fine, please don’t cry.” But you couldn’t help the tears flowing in your eyes. You couldn’t imagine how someone--how his own father--could do this. How could one person inflict so much damage, and on someone so pure and good? Your entire body ached for JJ, and for the little boy who never knew love from his own dad.

You felt his hand on your cheek, and you melted into his touch. Sniffling, your lower lip trembled as you slowly came forward, hovering above his torso. And then, with the lightest of touches, you kissed his bruises. Your lips were feather-light against his damaged skin, careful not to hurt him as you moved across his ribs. JJ’s breathing was shaky as your fingers ghosted across the bruises, trying to heal him with your loving touch.

Once you’d finished kissing each one, you brought your lips to his. This kiss was different than the one before; it was soft, and full of so much emotion you could barely contain it. JJ held you close to him despite the bruises, and you craved his touch just the same.

Foreheads tilting together, your eyes met in the darkness. “Y/N,” he began, threading through your hair and stroking down your neck. Anticipation for his next words nearly killed you as you held his gaze.

“I love you.”

A tearful smile breaking out across your face, you chuckled and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I love you too, JJ.”

That was all it took to reignite the heated passion from before. All gentleness from your moment with his bruises was gone, replaced by an intense desire for one another. JJ flipped you over so he was on top of you, and you bit your lip as you watched him slide off his shorts. His cock sprang free from the restrictions of his boxers, hard and stiff as it slid against your thigh.

Reaching a hand out, you gripped his shaft and earned a hiss from JJ. When your hand started moving up and down, his breathing all but stopped, eyes shutting as he let the pleasure take over. Your hand worked slowly but expertly, fingers working his swollen tip and collecting the precum there. Your thumb circled his slit, and this caused JJ to jerk in your hand.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, giving you a sloppy kiss. “You better stop doing that or this is gonna be over real quick.” Smiling devilishly, you met his lips in a feverish kiss and let go off his cock. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and surely leaving marks.

JJ’s hand drifted down your abdomen, nearing the place you were desperately aching for him. When his index finger dragged up your core, you suppressed a moan and rolled your eyes back, feeling bliss explode in your stomach. He traced your entrance carefully, teasing your folds in a way that made your thighs shake.

Sensing you were holding back, JJ kissed your neck and instructed, “Moan for me, baby.” His seductive tone was too much for you, and a string of moans left your lips. His finger finally dipped into you, curling against your walls and spreading heat through your body. JJ’s movements were intoxicating, and he knew just where to touch you and how to do it. His thumb pressed against your clit, making you cry out, and then he circled the bundle of nerves. The stimulation was overwhelming, and your hands fisted the sheets to try to hold you to reality.

JJ added another finger inside of you, pumping faster now. In combination with his thumb on your clit, you knew you were done for when the tight ball in your abdomen exploded into a million sparks. Your orgasm fizzled through your nerves, and your cries became louder as they pierced the quiet air.

“God, JJ,” you breathed, gripping his shoulder for support. He grinned above you, shifting his hips so they aligned with yours. You felt the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, sliding through the slick folds and running over your clit.

“Are you ready?” he asked you quietly, hand affectionately running through your hair before resting on your cheek. You leaned into him, nodding with the smallest of smiles on your face.

“I’m ready.”

He didn’t hesitate. With one swift motion, JJ pushed inside of you. The initial stretch nearly took your breath away, and it took a minute to adjust to his size. He filled you up entirely, hitting every sensitive spot you had. The stretch was deliciously searing, and as he began to move inside of you the feeling only intensified.

“You’re so tight,” JJ moaned, his thrusts slow and controlled. His hair fell over his eyes, lips parted in concentration. He looked strikingly beautiful in this moment, and you couldn’t believe he was actually yours.

You rested your hands above your head, and felt JJ wrap his fingers between yours. It was an intimate gesture that made your heart swoon, and you molded your lips against his with every emotion flooding between you.

His thrusts eventually picked up, and he hit even deeper inside of you. “JJ,” you cried out, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He grunted, using one hand to massage your breast. “Say my name again, Y/N,” he ordered, and you were glad to comply.

“JJ,” you moaned, arching your back while his hips rolled into you. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Fuck,” JJ swore, falling on top of you a little. He only had one arm to support his weight, and he used all of his energy to quicken his pace. His cock slammed deeper and deeper until you felt his balls slap against your skin, and when he hit a particularly good spot you saw stars dance across your vision.

“I’m close,” you panted, bringing a hand down to rub your clit. JJ let out a series of curses at this, clearly frenzied by your self-pleasuring. Your finger played with your clit as he pushed into you, lips brushing yours in a lazy kiss as the euphoria began to take over.

Your second orgasm was building to the breaking point, and with one last stroke you were done for. A second round of fireworks went off inside of you, and your walls instinctively clenched around JJ’s cock. He let out a loud groan at this, clearly close to finishing as well. He thrust a few more times before finally pulling out, a spurt of white liquid flying out onto your stomach.

Senses blurred by pleasure, you reached out to grab his cock and work him down from his high. JJ’s moans echoed in your ears, his voice like a beautiful symphony you’d replay over and over. When you could finally breathe steadily again, you placed your hands above your head, just soaking in the euphoric after-effects of the orgasm.

JJ reached out onto the floor and grabbed his shirt, using it to clean up your skin. He smiled down at you, blue eyes sparkling with residual lust and something else. Love.

Collapsing beside you, JJ pulled the blankets up to cover your naked bodies, cocooning you in warmth and privacy. In this moment, you were the only two people on earth. When he looked at you, it was like nothing else in the universe existed. You shifted forward until your foreheads were pressed together, breathing in each other’s scent.

JJ’s fingers lazily brushed across your cheek, and you pursed your lips to kiss the tip of his nose. He smiled at this, throwing a hand over your waist to haul your body into his. Now you were pressed together in every way, chest to chest and heart to heart.

He studied your eyes, looking straight into your soul. “I love you,” he said again, almost like a reminder. As if you could ever forget he said those amazing words.

“I love you,” you answered, grinning softly. JJ chuckled, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He said it again, making you laugh. So you said it again, and again and again. You would never stop telling him you loved him, and neither would he.

He was yours and you were his; finally.

#outer banks #obx #pope outer banks #pope obx #john b #john b outer banks #john b obx #kiara outer banks #kiara obx #sarah outer banks #sarah obx #jj maybank #jj outer banks #jj obx #jj one shot #jj mayback x reader #jj smut #obx smut #outer banks smut

216 notes · View notes

a-secret-bolton-vampire · 3 years

Text

Young Griff, Part 1: The Pisswater Prince

So, I know I haven't done a super deep dive in a while. I kinda got stuck, then binged Sense8, The OA, The Americans, and Dark. It just got hard to write, and I feel into a bit of depression. But I finally managed to complete this, something I've wanted to write about for a very long time. This is part of the Daenerys essays, but the main focus is not on her, but rather the enigmatic Young Griff who appears in ADWD. As he was never seen on the TV show, we have little to no idea of what his future holds. Personally, of all the characters cut from the show, I most wish they kept Young Griff, because his presence is quite interesting. The fandom (and the in-world characters) are highly skeptical of his identity, and think he is destined for major things in the future of the story.

There is no doubt his existence is tied heavily to Daenerys's storyline, although perhaps not the way that is often recognized. This was originally going to just be one long essay, but I uncovered more and more that I found compelling enough to write, and so it became split into two parts. The first part will be about Aegon's role in the story; his identity, what he represents, why he is here. The second part will be about Aegon's future; his next moves in the Stormlands, possible allies, and how he might meet his end.

The Dubious Prince

What's curious is that apparently, Aegon's return has been considered by GRRM for quite a while. A mere 2 days before the publishing of ASOS, in 2000, GRRM was asked a question by a fan:

Fan: I was wondering if you could answer (or take the "fifth") one teeny little question I've been dying to ask for the past year: Are Aegon and Rhaenys, Elia's children, well and truly dead? GRRM: All I have to say is that there is absolutely no doubt that little Princess Rhaenys was dragged from beneath her father's bed and slain.

And then when ADWD is published in 2011, it is revealed that in fact, Aegon isn't dead, but secretly alive. This is something that was actually rumoured in Westeros, according to this entry of Aegon VI in A World of Ice and Fire app:

Rumors persist, however, that it was not truly Aegon who was killed, but some other infant, and that Aegon has been taken away to safety.

Aegon literally tells Tyrion the story of how he was whisked away to safety:

"That was not me. I told you. That was some tanner's son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died birthing him. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of Arbor gold. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys gave the Pisswater boy to my lady mother and carried me away."

It's certainly a great story, that Aegon return from the dead, living in Essos waiting for the chance to take back his birthright. The fact Aegon is still alive is truly a miracle... but is he? Is this young boy who purports to be Aegon really Prince Aegon, son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia? One of the most pervasive fan theories is that Aegon isn't a Targaryen at all, but secretly a Blackfyre, descended from the Targaryen bastard Daemon Blackfyre who rebelled and tried to become king (the Blackfyres are still Targaryens but don't tell them that).

It's such a popular theory that it is considered all but canon, as much as R+L=J is. Now, time for me to commit heresy: I do not buy this theory at all.

For those not in the know, some have pointed out potential circumstantial evidence of Aegon being a Blackfyre; he's supported by the Golden Company, a sellsword company that was made for the Blackfyres and ruled by them until Maelys died on the Stepstones. Dany sees a vision of a cloth dragon swaying on a pole in the House of the Undying, as the Undying call her the "slayer of lies". There is mention of Maelys being the end of male line of House Blackfyre, but no mention of what happened to the female line. There is a story about an inn that had a black dragon made of iron symbolizing the Blackfyres, and after Lord Darry (a Targaryen supporter in the Blackfyre rebellions) took it off, cut it apart, and threw it into the river, one piece showed up years later on the Quiet Isle, having reddened with rust (potentially symbolizing a Blackfyre returning disguised as a Targaryen). Illyrio is oddly emotional when talking about Aegon. Plus the entirety of the Pisswater Prince story sounds really out there and unlikely.

At first glance, I found this theory really compelling. There is all this subtext and reading behind the lines that you didn't see before, and on some level it makes some sense. Why introduce another secret Targaryen in book 5 out of 7 (8)? It also fits neatly with another theory I will talk about more in depth later. However, while it isn't a theory I think is necessarily 100% inaccurate and completely out there, I think it doesn't account for alternatives, and ultimately is an unnecessary plot twist.

The support of the Golden Company isn't all that suspect when you consider just what's been happening since Maelys died. The male line of House Blackfyre is over (who knows what happened to the female line), the Blackfyres no longer rule the Golden Company, they are gone. The Golden Company was also founded by Westerosi exiles who fled Westeros and supported the Blackfyres. The fact the Golden Company broke its contract with Myr and that "some contracts are writ in blood" more has to do with the fact that these people are mostly descendants of Westerosi exiles and want to return home. The idea of the Golden Company wasn't really to be a permanent thing, it was meant to be a means through which the Blackfyres had support when they invaded again, and when the Blackfyres were installed, those exiled lords would get their lost lands back.

With the Blackfyre cause gone, the only thing left for the Golden Company is home. And that's exactly what Aegon is giving them, regardless of him being Targaryen. The slayer of lies visions are implying Daenerys is going to be confronting people who are in some way not true. Stannis (who is the first vision) is not Azor Ahai. This probably means that the cloth dragon represents a fake Targaryen, and in comes Aegon, out of nowhere! The first issue I have is that the vision has to be literal. Prophecies are very tricky, and the House of the Undying prophecies are extremely finicky. What does slayer of lies mean? Does it mean she literally kills the lies? Is it more metaphorical that she exposes people to the truth? And if Aegon really is a true Targaryen, then why is he the mummer's dragon and considered a lie to slay?

Disregarding the fact Varys was a mummer and he is working for Aegon, even if Aegon is a Targaryen, it's very obvious that they need to do a lot to convince people he is one. He has to play the part of Rhaegar's son, because everyone thinks he is dead. Meanwhile, Daenerys has to do literally nothing of the sort, because she has dragons. She embodies what it means to be a Targaryen, she is about to embrace her house words. As Illyrio tells Tyrion, Daenerys is a true Targaryen. But Aegon doesn't have dragons, so he needs to play up his Targness in some other way. Rhaegar was called the Last Dragon. Viserys called himself a Dragon. Aegon is about to try to take Rhaegar's place. But neither Rhaegar, Viserys, or Aegon are the Last Dragon; Daenerys is, and the lie is that he is the last dragon, and that Dany's existence itself is the way she slays the lie. As Dany thinks to herself after Viserys dies, "fire cannot kill a dragon".

Look at Aegon being someone piggybacking off words and looks for his claims. Meanwhile, Daenerys has all the proof one needs. I think the vision is much more esoteric than literal. While Varys's story is suspect and even Tyrion finds it unbelievable, it's not entirely impossible. Hell, Mance Rayder climbed the Wall and went to Winterfell in disguise as a bard twice. It makes sense for Varys to take away Aegon and replace him with another child during Robert's rebellion, when things were going badly for the Targaryens and plans had to be made in case the worst came to worst.

Another popular interpretation is that Illyrio and his wife Serra are Aegon's real son, but I find this to be incredibly flawed. Not only does Serra not really look much like a Targaryen (blue eyes instead of purple), but Illyrio's somewhat emotional confession that he can't see Aegon before he drops Tyrion off doesn't mean he is the boys father. The idea that you need to be someones parent in order to have a strong connection completely holds disregard for other kinds of relationships. Aegon is implied to have been raised for at least a bit in Pentos. Illyrio probably felt some affection for him and genuinely enjoyed his company.

To me, however, it's not really the alternative explanations for the evidence of a Blackfyre conspiracy that convince me Aegon is in fact Rhaegar's son. It's rather simple; what's the point of yet another secret identity plot twist? Consider how we meet Aegon. We meet him through Tyrion's POV in his third chapter, under the guise of the son of a sellsword named Griff, called Young Griff, his hair dyed blue in honour of his dead Tyroshi mother. Tyrion is immediately suspicious, but he's not entirely sure what's going on. We then get two more chapters of him aboard the Shy Maid, and during that time we are meant to be a little confused and unsure what is going on. It's a mystery of why Tyrion is on this boat and who these people are.

By the third chapter of Tyrion on the Shy Maid, the mystery is finally lifted, and all is revealed; Griff isn't Griff, he's Jon Connington, an exiled lord thought to have drunken himself to death. And Young Griff isn't his son; he's Prince Rhaegar's son Aegon, who was thought to have been killed by the Mountain in Robert's Rebellion. I think it's important to remember that it isn't just Aegon who is thought to be dead. JonCon is considered dead too! Two dead people aboard a boat plotting to retake Westeros. We already had a mystery handed to us, and the plot twist was already revealed. Another thing to consider is how thematically and symbolically important the journey down the Rhoyne is for Aegon. To me I think it makes a lot of sense for Rhaegar and Elia's son to be on the Rhoyne, especially since there is a lot of evidence that he and Dorne will eventually ally.

It's also important to remember that apart from a very few sly people, Aegon being secretly alive wasn't even a possibility on most peoples radar. It truly was something that came out of nowhere. While that can be used as a marker against him being Rhaegar's son, with the complaints of such a large character being revealed so late with seemingly no forewarning, I think that's honestly sort of the point.

Aegon's existence is already so large of a twist that it feels awkward to then put in another plot twist that he's actually a Blackfyre, something that really only has significance to the people who have read the Dunk & Egg novellas and know the history of Westeros very well. Although not entirely the same, it reminds me of "the Others are actually morally grey/the good guys" theories, which are in a similar vein of "George is always subversive and this is classic George". However, while the text does sort of lend credence to this theory being at the very most plausible, I feel it's ultimately an unnecessary plot twist built upon another seemingly unnecessary plot twist to try to justify his late entry and/or his significance (as can be noted, I detest calling him fAegon). The plot for Aegon isn't to be uncovered as this secret conspiracy of another ultra-double secret identity, it's about what his existence does to change the story.

Young Griff, Daenerys Stormborn, and Jon Snow

A large part of why the Blackfyre conspiracy theory is so popular is that it actually does have a compelling narrative link to the series. It's a simple progression; there are hints at a second Dance of the Dragons, vision of a mummer's dragon, a fake Targaryen, boom, Dany and Aegon fight. Dany thinks her claim is the best, but then someone appears who has an even better claim, and she fights thinking there's no possible way he could be real. It's an easy to follow trajectory. As always, people are welcome to disagree with my interpretation, but I think there is a far better reason for Aegon's role in the story; he's more foreshadowing for R+L=J.

For certain, there's more to him than just that, but I think this is something that simply cannot be ignored. He's another Targaryen. Yeah, it's kind of a meme to say X is a secret Targaryen, but I actually see the logic in why GRRM did this. Jon Snow is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, and most likely is a trueborn prince. He is the one destined to have an extremely significant relationship with Daenerys. I plan to eventually write an essay on how R+L=J effects the characters and story by itself, but for preface; I don't buy that R+L=J is there just to make Jon have an identity crisis. Something as significant as that is going to have a lot of consequences and reasons to be around, some more than others. I do think there will be people who will learn the truth and at the very least, some people will believe it.

This is where Aegon's appearance becomes more significant. Here is a Targaryen people had no idea even existed, let alone was still alive. It kinda opens the floodgates for the world to question what is known about Robert's Rebellion. It also serves as precedent for the reveal that Jon Snow reveal. One Targaryen we didn't know existed is suddenly here. Is there another nearby? You can't simplify such a complex plot quite that easily of course, but I think it's significant to think about how the Young Griff twist applies to the story as a whole, and specifically RLJ. George maybe thought of this as the initial purpose for Young Griff, but as per usual, he definitely has other reasons to exist.

In fact, Aegon is a perfect foil for Jon Snow. Both are the son of Rhaegar, both are disguised as someone else, both are thrusted into a leadership position at a young age. However, Jon is unaware of his true parentage, while Aegon is. Jon is reluctant to embrace his identity in general (especially as lord commander) while Aegon is embracing his identity to his fullest extent. In a way, Aegon represents what Jon's life could have become in a parallel world. Instead of being taken as Ned's bastard to Winterfell, he is educated and taught his role and origin in Essos as plotting begins for retaking Westeros. Aegon is literally parallel universe Jon Snow.

Aegon is also a foil for Daenerys (who in turn is a parallel to Jon Snow). Daenerys grew up poor, constantly visiting nobles in the Free Cities but never getting anything in return. She was sold as a marital slave to Drogo. Her brother resented and abused her, and anything she learned she learned from Viserys, who was very unreliable. Yet she climbs up and becomes an incredibly powerful figure, and is now one of the most powerful people in the world. In contrast, Aegon was always protected, given safety, care, education, train at arms. In fact, it might be accurate to say that Aegon is actually spoiled. His interaction with Tyrion while playing cyvasse is a good indication of this. After Tyrion defeats Aegon when he follows the bad advice he gave him (making a point to not always trust people), this happens;

Young Griff jerked to his feet and kicked over the board. Cyvasse pieces flew in all directions, bouncing and rolling across the deck of the Shy Maid. "Pick those up," the boy commanded.

This is quite an extreme reaction. It even reminds Tyrion of Joffrey, and I have to agree this is a very petulant, Joffrey-like outburst. I don't believe Aegon is really anything like Joffrey, but both kids were pretty spoiled and given so much safety and care that when things don't go their way they get upset. Aegon is used to having everything given to him, and Tyrion is the first to show that he won't always win. In contrast, Daenerys has suffered some pretty severe losses; Rhaego, Drogo's khalasar, Drogo, Jorah's betrayal, etc. I have a hard time seeing Daenerys react so badly to this the way Aegon did. It also casts doubt on the speech Varys gave to Kevan as he dies that Aegon was molded to be this perfect king. He may have been raised to be that way, but the opposite might be true instead.

In fact, this might really be the true crux and core of Aegon's storyline. He's touted as the rightful king, this perfect prince who has been taught everything he needs, ready to be this hero who returns to Westeros to reclaim the throne. But Aegon is a deconstruction of that trope. He seems to have everything going for him, and is touted as this great king, but the truth is he remains relatively untested. All the privilege he has been given has only made him spoiled. The game of cyvasse he and Tyrion play is a lot more significant than I think it is given credit for, but that will be saved for part two when I go in depth about his future.

Of course, there has been a lot of pushback against the idea that Aegon is spoiled and that he's no different from Jon and Dany and that it should be expected he react like that to losing cyvasse at his age. While the cyvasse outburst doesn't mean he is going to be evil or anything, I think the context about this is important, and there is a lot more stuff I think hints that Aegon is not really the prince Varys believes him to be. Again, this will be saved for part two.

The Dragons Will Dance Again

In 2003, a fan asked George:

Hi, short question. Will we find out more about the Dance of the Dragons in future books? GRRM: The first dance or the second? The second will be the subject of a book. The first will be mentioned from time to time, I'm sure.

This is further supported by a quote by Teora Toland in the first Arianne sample chapter for TWOW:

"It is dragons." "Dragons?" said her mother. "Teora, don't be mad." "I'm not. They're coming." "How could you possibly know that?" her sister asked, with a note of scorn in her voice. "One of your little dreams?" Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died."

The use of the language of dragons dancing is very noteworthy, and when connected with the SSM show in-text hints that a second Dance is indeed going to happen. Various theories include that this refers to Jon vs. Dany, Dany vs. Euron, Dany vs. Aegon, or Jon vs. Aegon. The most common theory in the fandom is Dany vs. Aegon, with Dany believing Aegon to be a fake Targaryen and refusing to acknowledge his claim to the throne. Instead of facing Cersei as in the show, Daenerys will face Aegon.

The extension of this theory is that Dorne will ally with Aegon, with an ambitious Arianne marrying Aegon, and a burnt toast Quentyn showing Daenerys's rejection, turning Dorne against Daenerys. When Daenerys invades Westeros, Aegon is to be the perfect prince while Dany plays the role of the evil Mad King's daughter. In retaliation of Dorne siding with a false Targaryen instead of a true Targaryen, Dany will burn the Water Gardens. On a narrative level it kinda does make a lot of sense. In the first Areo chapter, Doran mentions that the blood oranges are well past ripe. He has waited for his vengeance for 17 years, because he's so careful about the cost, but in the end all that waiting will do him in and the second Daenerys will burn the Water Gardens that were built for the first Daenerys.

There is just a slight problem... someone talked about the theory that Daenerys will burn the Water Gardens in the comment section of a NotABlog post, and GRRM very quickly shut it down by saying "the Water Gardens bit... uh no". Not that we needed GRRM to debunk this tired theory, it didn't make much sense in the first place since the Water Gardens hold no strategic value and burning it would mean Daenerys has to do it for no reason other than needless cruelty.

The bigger issue I have is that of Dany and Aegon even fighting in the first place. Despite everything, what a "second Dance of the Dragons" even means is incredibly vague. A Targaryen succession crisis? A Targ succession crisis leading to war? A Targaryen man fighting a Targaryen woman? Does it need to be on the same scale as the original Dance? We have no context other than this and it could mean literally anything. What's more, there is a very often overlooked SSM that kinda puts the dampers on this theory a bit;

The second Dance of Dragons does not have to mean Dany's invasion. Geroge stopped himself short and said he shouldn't say anymore. The response came because of my question of whether the dance would take place in ADWD because AFFC and ADWD parallel.

We will definitely see more of Aegon in TWOW, and we'll probably get to know him better. I'm not going to argue that Aegon appearing in book 5 of 7 is bad writing, because I don't think it necessarily is. Perhaps he won't be as major a character as the fandom believes him to be. However, if Daenerys and Aegon are going to clash, there needs to be time for the characters to interact and establish any sort of relationship. I think the idea that Dany hears of Aegon's existence and immediately thinks he is a fake and goes to war with him completely disregards both Dany's character and how you establish a tragic event like this.

The first Dance of the Dragons was not something that happened on a whim. It was the result of decades of hatred built towards two factions. They weren't always antagonistic to each other, but as the years passed, the blacks and the greens grew to hate each other more and more and more until it took the death of the king that kept them at bay to start a devastating war. Dany declaring Aegon a fake without ever having met him and going to war with him is incredibly simplistic. Also, think about it from Dany's perspective.

Viserys was an abusive asshole to her, yet she still thinks about him and even feels lonely. It's natural to want to have a family and someone to feel close with. Dany is warned about the mummer's dragon, yes, but she is also lonely and thinks all her family is dead, that she is alone in the world. So what would really happen if she learned Aegon existed? For sure there would be intense skepticism, but I think there is a part of her that will at the very least want to believe it to be true. Daenerys is very ambitious yes, but I don't think she would simply refuse to believe someone is her nephew because that means he has a better claim to the throne.

Besides, kinslaying is a huge taboo, and killing someone who claims to be her nephew without being sure is definitely going to not be the best option in her mind. And also, Aegon hasn't done anything yet to earn Dany's resentment, unlike Viserys. There might be some anger at Illyrio, some serious shock, denial even, but at the end of the day, this is one more family member she didn't know she even had. The show portrayed Jon's parentage as being a bad thing for her since he would have a better claim, but I doubt that will be the first thing on Dany's mind. In fact, she thinks to herself what would happen if Aegon was alive:

Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper's dogs had murdered her brother's son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him.

There is a good chance that the emotions she feels when learning about Aegon will be a precursor to the R+L=J reveal with Jon Snow. Just more reason Aegon is a big step towards R+L=J being confirmed.

Although Daenerys is quite ready to leave Slaver's Bay for Westeros at the end of ADWD, Aegon's existence might motivate her to leave even more quickly and solidify her goal to get the Iron Throne. However, I don't think that Aegon is going to become a new main character. His appearance and his actions I feel are more important than his actual character. And hey, maybe the second Dance will involved Daenerys and Aegon, but I think there is enough reason to doubt it.

Next up; the Golden Company landing, Dorne, and Aegon's game of cyvasse, detailed.

#asoiaf meta #young griff #daenerys targaryen #second dance of the dragons #house targaryen #r+l=j #aegon vi targaryen #house blackfyre #golden company #jon snow #asoiaf parallels

6 notes · View notes

fanfictiondreamscape · 4 years

Text

Watching Hedgehogs Forming an Army

Title: Watching Hedgehogs Forming an Army

Genre: C O M E D Y. (seriously, that is what it mostly is. I could write something romantic in this, but the title is just-)

Pairing: Izaya/Shizuo/Masaomi/Mikado x reader (all separate)

Notes: Okay, so before you start reading, do note that this whole idea is coming from a random thing I sent out to my friends on Snapchat. (Remind me to proceed with caution if I ever decide to do this again.)

Otherwise, I had been wanting to write something for DRRR for a while, and this gave me the most in depth idea for the specific characters and just- ugH, IDEA GOLD.

Below the cut!

Izaya Orihara

the fact that you and him got together was a mystery to the whole of Shinjuku and Ikebukuro.

seriously, this man is notorious for playing with people’s emotions and desires

so how the hell did he snag someone as nice as you?

no clue, but what they didn’t know is that you played with him

turn the game on its head, y’know?

that said, you two rarely ever went out on dates that weren’t at more upscale places.

one date? five star restaurant, VIP room. managed to snag free drinks for the both of you while he was at it.

another one? laying low at one of your homes, though there was a plethora of gourmet foods that he had shipped from out of country

(by some damn magic - you didn’t know, and didn’t care to ask)

otherwise, when things as simple as this happened, things came easy to the both of you

some ice cream for you, a black coffee for him, and the two of you skipping through the park happily.

this particular day, though, you saw something very sus

there was an outrageous amount of hedgehogs gathered.

no reason, no purpose whatsoever, just gathering in a corner of the park.

izaya didn’t notice the meetup until he noticed that you weren’t beside him.

with his eyebrows raised, shocked

he then saw you, slack-jawed, watching a hoard of hedgehogs

the general image just drove him to laugh, but you heard him

and you jumped to stop him.

“shut up, don’t say a single word.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, but now that you mention it-”

cue you shoving a hand over his mouth to stop him from doing anything

you both just watched the group

nothing more, nothing less.

there was the odd sip of coffee or spoonful of ice cream, but otherwise?

just staring.

“do you think they’re getting ready to fight someone?”

“i don’t know, s/o, are they?”

“no seriously! are they teaming up to go to a fight, or are they doing this to defend their nest or something?”

“again, i don’t know, s/o. but that is a good question.”

...silence...

“maybe they’re trying to climb on top of each other and form a mega-bot or something.”

“i highly doubt that.”

yeah, there wasn’t much else to look at.

your theories were brushed over in favor of watching the group gather closer.

people stopped to stare at you two

they even tossed the idea that you two were oddly placed statues

but they recognized izaya

they knew that no, these are not, in fact, statues, but people standing scarily still

watching something intently.

they just walked off, eventually, but the thought never left.

and yes, you two were still staring when shizuo spotted the sight while looking for someone to pay off their debts.

and, of course, at the sight of izaya, he flipped his shit and screamed.

that was the cue to leave before you both got crushed.

luckily, after being with izaya for some time, you got used to the chase and were able to evade the tall blonde

you both made it to your apartment, and had jumped to conclusions

“they were trying to fight someone by forming a gigantic robot-like figure!”

“no, they were forming an army to fight back!”

“or maybe they were doing that to defend their den!”

“or they were gathering together to have an or-”

“don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

the ideas kept getting thrown back and forth

though what you two didn’t know was that they were gathering for a ritual

calling upon their hedgehog gods and completing their personal little summoning

(it went well, for anyone wondering).

Shizuo Heiwajima

you and him?

you’ve gotta be shitting me.

you, an outgoing and happy smol bean (who was actually lacking any instinct to care about someone)

and him, the big angry tol bean that could care less about anyone (though that was a lie)?

yeah, can’t happen

unless...

so, this was a date.

normally, they stayed in the realm of indoors.

eating dinner together? at his kitchen table.

movie night? on your couch, in your apartment.

seriously, you both rarely had dates outside of the comfort of your homes.

so this date was a blessing in disguise.

it was nearing noon,

shizuo had come by your apartment around 11:30 that morning

a cup of coffee in his hand for you, a blush on his face

from there on, you two had spent the day relaxing together (though it was a fairly short time)

you two were walking past a park around this time

and you were watching the sunlight peek through the trees with wonder

of course, a few people waved to you and you waved back,

but when you spotted something odd, everything just seemed to freeze.

hedgehogs, gathered beside a bush, almost climbing on top of the other

almost as if to fight for something among each other.

your gasp is what drew shizuo out of the euphoric state he was in just by watching your eyes light up.

straight outta the gate, he would probably be visibly confused.

and pissed.

but he’d let it slide.

maybe.

it wasn’t until you exclaimed that there were more that he had an outburst.

“the hell’d you say?”

“there are more going to the bush, shizuo.”

silence, upon silence, upon silence.

until one of the children in the park shout at you to say hi.

you responded of course, but it still annoyed you

but it annoyed the blonde beside you even more.

“hey, leave her be!”

“dammit, shizuo - ignore him, have a nice day, you two!”

the child’s mother laughed and brushed it off.

you pulled shizuo back and went back to watching the hedgehogs.

though he was initially bothered, the sight was interesting to watch.

you two had been theorizing why they were gathering

“maybe they’re watching over one of their children.”

“or, maybe they are trying to build their den there.”

“well, yeah. but they’re climbing on top of each other.”

“good point, babe.”

(yay pet names! coming from him, that meant a lot!)

this continued for around fifteen minutes before they up and left.

you two went about the rest of your days nicely, dropping the topic

but it did come up when you were talking to your friend over lunch the next day

and also when shizuo was at work - tom was trying to figure out the reason as well.

otherwise, it was ignored.

the whole story, though:

the hedgehogs were gathering for something private

something that the humans would call a ‘meme’.

a fight club.

and the first rule of fight club?

you don’t talk about fight club.

Masaomi Kida

you and him?

that was expected.

for this long?

that was not expected.

people thought that you two would just call it a fling, and you’d be done

not the case, and you two were ready to wreak havoc all over school grounds if the time called for it.

but otherwise, you two were pretty tame with each other

also very flirty

but that was a different story.

otherwise, dates with him were very much everywhere

if you wanted to get some food, you two would go to russian sushi and then more

a movie? great, let’s hit up the bowling alley afterwards!

dates like this one were both odd and normal

it was expected that you’d do something following the first part (breakfast and gaming videos with him)

but doing something as simple as walking through a park was almost unheard of unless there was a big event going on

but you weren’t complaining

sometimes you just need some calm, and that is exactly what was going on

until, in a fit of giggles, masaomi had spotted a large group of hedgehogs in a secluded corner of the park

“whoa, look at that, s/o!”

“huh, what do you-”

you saw them.

you also noticed that they were almost expressing something.

whether that was anger, simple frustration, or whateverthehell, you didn’t know

but you noticed it and brought it up.

“kida, they’re moving. what do you think they’re doing?”

“a game plan? something to get food?”

“maybe they’re building something?”

“nope, they’re not holding anything.”

the whole situation, contrary to anything else that would have happened, came and went

after you two stared at the slowly growing crowd for almost fifteen minutes.

you sat down to do it, though!

(yay to less foot pain!)

either way, you two had started to toss back outlandish theories.

“trying to form a fight club?”

(haha funny-)

“or maybe a hedgehog ritual?”

(haha funny number 2-)

“possibly they could be having an or-”

(i wanna commit die for the amount of times i’ve pulled this shit istg-)

“kida.”

yeah, things got quiet after that.

you two were still watching the hedgehogs do whatever they and their expressions were doing,

but when you both hit a head and couldn’t conjure up anymore crazy ideas

you just shrugged it off and left the park.

it didn’t come up again, not even when kida dragged you from your shift at a nearby bookstore after it ended to do something in the city.

anything, really.

the night ended calmly, though.

the hedgehogs, though?

yeah, their night didn’t end that way.

that crowd of them that you two had seen was a hedgehog acting troupe, and thei performance schedule was outrageous.

the horror play’s lead was covered in a mess of honey, the comedy lead’s day was prolonged due to the original lead being sick, and the romantic lead had tried to avoid snapping the neck of her male co-lead.

yeah, clean-up for them didn’t go well.

Mikado Ryuugamine

you and mikado had been friends for a while

considering that you are kida’s (older) twin, you two got along fairly well

you and him were able to bond over dealing with your brother’s antics.

so the connection you two had grown to develop was easy to be expected.

and, seeing as you were the mature one of the twins, you attracted mikado very quickly.

otherwise, you both found over-the-top dates to be unnecessary.

so you both basked in the time that the both of you spent privately.

study dates were normal. get your work done, get some quick food, all was good.

sometimes you two would lay back and watch your current television obsession together.

so with things as simple and somewhat cliche as that, park dates were normal.

and since you both wanted some fresh air (and a break from your brother), you jumped at the chance to take a walk.

it was late afternoon, you had stopped by russian sushi and were finishing some dollar-drinks you picked up from a convenient store.

you two held hands, deciding to run the rest of the day through somewhat peacefully.

kida was out, though, so you were both on guard.

which also meant that when you two spotted him, you hid

you found a bench that was covered by trees and shadows, and decided to sit down

mikado was panting, you were still peeping and hoping that the dyed-blonde sibling of yours was gone

and he was, so you relaxed.

while you were watching, you noticed some movement from the corner of your eye.

it was slightly dull against green, so you found it a little hard to miss.

“hey, mikado, what’s going on in that corner?”

“huh? uh, i don’t- i don’t know.”

you got a closer look, and saw that they were hedgehogs.

there was two crowds of them, facing each other

your eyes may have been deceiving you, but you could have sworn that one of them was glaring at the frontman of the opposing group

and that their lackey was gracing an expression of calm

but hedgehogs don’t express emotions like that so you tossed that thought out the metaphorical window.

mikado, though, was trying not to let any of his wild ideas slip.

he had a filter, though, so he didn’t say anything.

you could notice when this happened, though.

“say it, mikado; you’re not good at hiding what you’re thinking around me, y’know.”

“well, what do you think they’re doing?”

silence

(yet again.)

“i...don’t know, actually.”

the silence hung high, but neither of you were willing to spill any odd theories you had.

some of the time that you were watching was spent theorizing, though.

just internally.

(seriously, if internal dialogue was going to be mentioned in depth, this portion of the post would be outrageous)

eventually, you just settled for watching them.

any conversation that you two had was about something other than what you were staring at, but that didn’t stop you.

soon enough, it started to get dark and you got a message from kida.

he was struggling with dinner, and since you didn’t want to burn down your living, the you had to hurry.

you had made it clear that you had to leave, took mikado’s empty drink and pitched it on your way back.

mikado left not long after you, eyeing the hedgehogs in confusion

but leaving nonetheless.

you brought the event up to kida (without mentioning that it was to hide from him, of course), and he made a huge deal out of it.

mikado brought the topic up to him over the phone as well.

but it was generally just left up in the air.

rarely ever came up between you and anyone else, but it still hung over your heads.

otherwise, the events between the hedgehogs was very new.

in fact, one side of the hedgehogs were squirrels in disguise.

they were having a conversation about how to invade and seize the squirrels’ home, and one of the disguised squirrels had said something to provoke the leader of the hedgehogs.

they were planning an attack on the other, and there would be blood not matter what.

it was a damn turf war, of course they would want their enemy’s heads on a platter.

69 notes · View notes

scriptaed · 4 years

Text

Ink Nemesis Finale

Genre: Angst/Fluff || paparazzi!au; fake dating!au;

Pairing: Reader x Yoongi

Length: 9.1k;

Synopsis: As an aspiring writer drowning under the public’s radar, a click of the pen is all you need to accept your supervisor’s offer to co-write an article for the SS - Secrets Spilled, a regular section of your company’s weekly tabloid; but fabricated stories and invasive details aren’t all that you write when you discover Min Yoongi’s dirty little secret.

A/N: First off, I want to thank everyone who read/reads this series. This may not be my most “popular” work, but it’s one that I will always be proud of. If it weren’t for you guys who always encouraged me to write whatever I wanted to write, I would most certainly not be here writing today. A whole two years since I started this series and there are still some of you patiently waiting for an update. I’m floored. This message and this finale are all that I can give you but I hope you know your care for me as a human and not a robot who happens to write means more to me than words can express. Whenever I feel myself straying from my real reasons for writing, I will recall this fic and all the messages of support you guys sent me... and for those who have no idea what I’m saying: the feelings the mc goes through in this fic is a reflection of my own. Words were my only way of spilling my heart when I went through a hard time last year, so this series is my form of an open book that explains why I took a break. If you still have no idea what I’m saying: enjoy the finale! c:

Life has its own twisted ways with irony. One minute, allies would swear allegiance to your fickle heart; and in another minute, you would be trembling in horror, for your arch nemesis had infiltrated your walls under their own wicked disguise. For better or for worse, the most betraying and hard-hitting realization dawns upon you one storm too late… maybe, and just perhaps maybe, friends and foes are merely two sides of the same coin, plotting and pulling the strings behind the scenes that would prove to be your final downfall; and if there’s anything you’ve despised the most in life, it would be the eerily identical lessons both your greatest allies and enemies have incessantly and irrevocably ingrained within you.

One, time can heal even the deepest of wounds and the nastiest of scars.

...but they don’t know the depth and length of which your gaping wounds run. Enemies don’t know the scars that transcend through time and the way it lurks at every corner and creeps into your veins, until the time when you finally notice is one epiphany too late and the trauma has already rooted itself into your daily life for perpetuity. No one but you can really gauge how long it would take for you to recover from your falls—or if you ever would, that is. Because right now, sitting here with a flesh wound in a gaping heart, you could only attest to this: pain ages like fine wine.

Two, people can recognize their mistakes and change for the better.

…or at least that’s what optimists like to tell themselves; but the reality is, in your cold albeit truthful experience, people can only change to an extent. You were still bitter, you were still self-serving, you were still every bit of that wicked woman whom had spoiled your relationships and woken you with cold sweat in the middle of your nightmares-come-reality. Surely, the woman had been forcefully tranquilized under your hands, but her tracks remain like crimson stains on the purest of snowfalls. You can feel it every so often. From time to time, you can feel her peeping one of those bewitched, scarlet eyes of hers, threatening to awaken if it weren’t for your honed abilities to quell the scorching fire. She remains in you, an innate and inevitable part of you, but your chains around her neck keep her tethered and you from another episode.

So how exactly, you would like to inquire from both friends and foes, have you changed?

Evidently not much—that, you can answer, for your days of woe remain painfully prevalent even as you sit here, one year into a nightmare that you just can’t seem to awake from, mulling over how differently things would have played out between you and him, wondering what he was doing and what he had immersed himself into this time around, and pondering for days over whether he ever sat down in a chair and stared off into the distance as you do now, wondering over you?

Because you can still see the glaring television screen reflecting off your bloodshot, strained eyes in the midst of the pitch black bedroom, even as your head rolls back onto the chair and your stare meets the grotesque white-blue lights lining the office ceiling. You can still feel your heart wince—once at the sight of him and twice at the mention of his name. His cold hands that once brushed against yours and the serenity of his dark eyes that once gazed into your soul still manage to warm you, even from this distance, even after all this time. His absence is like a gaping wound, looming over you like vengeful apparitions that taunt you throughout the day. The ache in your chest is sheer proof of the truth you’ve always denied but can’t seem to let go.

Recently, you’ve found yourself dubious over the disguise of your next enemy. The twisting pain you had once suffered had long submerged into a pool of longing, a bittersweet melody that has you reminiscing over the past that you could never relive. He made you face your deepest fears. He was the aftermath of your own reflection, a living proof that you could survive the hellish consequences that came with the search and capture of success. He assumed the guardian he wished he could have had during his own struggles, shielding you from paths that would lead to dead ends amidst the forks in the road. His curt methods were burdensome and grueling to your heart, but in retrospect and even during that moment in time, something in you knew he meant well. He always did.

Because even through all the struggle he had put you through, be it unwanted fame, attention, and self-reflection, you could only remember the magical days when sparks flew between you two and your heart raced itself into trouble as you swore to yourself he was the one. Because even now, you still long for his touch, for his voice, for anything that could convey to you that he was still here.

Even if he isn’t.

In the mean time, Solji has been the sole remaining connection you’ve had to the outside world. Only a week had passed after your downfall, when you were so sure no one would return and no one cared enough for your wellbeing, when your self-proclaimed friends proved to be merely colleagues by obligation and your short-lived rocky friendship with Xiao Lin became one beyond salvation, when your heart crushed and your soul shattered in the silence of the one whomst should have been the one brewing the loudest storms, the one you had once declared your lover, Solji was the one to demolish the locks to your gates, even as you so incessantly refused to comply.

Weeks into the aftermath, Solji brought you food and water, but most crucially, a shoulder to cry on. You had initially denied her aiding hand out of utter shame. Who were you to ask for help from the very person whose trust you had broken? Who were you, after pointing an accusing finger at for betraying your trust, to accept her help? Solji was the last person you should have questioned. Moreover, she never should have been in the list in the first place and her unconditional loyalty, even as you lifelessly watched her clean your room as you lay in your stench of a bed, was clear proof to that attestment—and that glaring truth only humiliates you further.

It took weeks, nearly two months, for you to willingly begin recuperation. The process was slow and damn difficult. Your motivation was lacking, because at that point you figured what was the point when everyone hated you including yourself? But the one person who held the last glimmer of hope in a time when you could no longer see the end of the tunnel was Solji.

Day by day, you found one more reason to get up in the morning. Week by week, you found yourself longing for self-indulgence, whether it be channeled through food or hobbies. It took well over two months for the time to arrive when you finally find yourself seated at your desk, staring at your favorite fountain pen and piles of paper that you recognize the reflection in the mirror.

A writer—your identity, your passion, your reason for being.

But even if you longed for the day when you could write to your heart’s desire, when you relish in the strikes and crosses and strokes of the pen scraping with certainty and conviction against the paper, and when you could heave a sigh of content at the universe you created in the palms of your head after hours upon hours of concentration whilst in an unbreakable zone, you could no longer relive those days without the clouds that loomed over your conscience.

Guilt—writing was your ally turned foe, what had once been your media for self expression had manifested into a ruthless weapon for retaliation against those who wronged you.

Fear—writing brought you the highest joys, but the thought of having to relive the experience of its loss once again freezes your soul.

Shame—writing was your knife, words were your blades, and before you knew it, you were the villain of your greatest tales, sneering in satisfaction at your beloved’s blood that stains your hands and salivating wickedly at the gaping hole left in his heart as he gazes at you in utter betrayal under the hands of his own love.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to write anymore.

You just couldn’t write anymore.

Solji had suggested fleeing the barred prison that was your apartment, where every corner laid a fragment of a cherished memory that only furthered your pain, and taking refuge elsewhere. As expected in hindsight and surprisingly in your previously hazed mindset, Solji’s advice was just one more step toward recovery. Nine months away from home were enough for your getaway where you would no longer clutch your chest at every reminder and thought of the incident. Nine months away were enough for you to finally reflect on your mistakes head on. Nine months were enough for you to lock yourself in your apartment and dive head-first into your long-lived passion for the remainder of the year.

...but even after all the trials and tribulations, nine months weren’t enough to forget him.

Drowned by your recollection of the whirlwind that was last year, your mind finally shrieks for help as you rise to the water’s surface only to find yourself twirling around and around in a dizzying cycle. The cold white lights of the office was blinding, freezing even. The soul of every living being in the room must have been drained to power these accursed lights, you surmise so surely, willing to bet your life on it… not that it’s exactly a bad thing.

For one, at least you could revel in the fact that you were no longer subject to the torture that your fake colleagues are at the moment. And for another, said colleagues had left you unscathed as you had ventured into the depths of the building. Maybe they had forgotten you. Maybe they never really cared for you unless they could instigate some reaction from you that they once so cruelly found amusement in. Or maybe you just didn’t give enough of a damn anymore to care what they thought—that… that brings a smile to your face.

Just one more fucking sign of liberation.

Heels come tapping against the floor and you whip upright to face your beloved friend. You hadn’t seen Solji in over a month since you had last locked yourself in your room in the name of literature. Blood rushes from your head under the hands of gravity and a sense of queasy twirls descend into your stomach.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re here,” Solji coos, smiling as she spins you around on her chair, “how are you doing? And yes, I already know your answer after all these years of witnessing your bad writing habits, but I’m still going to ask out of courtesy. Are you eating well? Sleeping enough?”

“Well, as you know, I’m somewhat sleep deprived, somewhat self-gratified, not nearly satisfied, but… at the very least I’m alive, even if my eyes burn and my lips chap,” you pause after the two of you share a short-lived laugh, eyes sinking to the floor before you muster the courage to point a thumb over your shoulder and at the computer screen behind you, “so, um, what’s this about?”

An uncomfortable silence stills the air when Solji arches a brow only to let in an inaudible gasp as she peers at the computer screen behind you.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I called you over to tell you properly, but I guess you beat me to the chase,” Solji prims lopsidedly.

Her hesitation to proceed manifests in the hitch of her intaking breaths, probably mulling over her next words as she observes every emotion that flickers across your face—a tinge of betrayal, mostly disappointment, perhaps even a bit belligerent, but most of all, hopeful. A puff of air leaves her when she notices the light at the end of your tunnel vision eyes, eyes widening as she crosses her chest. That being said, it still amuses you how often she’d tip-toe around the incident last year, for fear of catalyzing another mental breakdown.

“You see, after seeing how much... negativity the SS brought you last year… and after realizing how far this site has strayed from my initial intentions of supporting an upcoming boy group and how it’s turned into this monster of a toxic tabloid, just hunting down these poor boys like they’re animals at a zoo, I made the final decision to close it down.”

After you had treated Yoongi like an animal for your own gain—the thought still stings you with guilt. Solji had advised you that time would heal the pain just a month in the aftermath of the storm, but now that you’re finally here, one year later, you find yourself caged in the eye of the storm.

“Oh, no. It’s toxic, no doubt about that,” you nod absentmindedly just as you’ve always done, disregarding the split second of a wince. Numbness has been the only effective coping mechanism since he left. “It was a good decision.”

This is your fault. Solji’s first piece of work, first treasures she had the gratification of grooming and growing into prized jewels envied by all, like the children that were your every written work, now put to eternal slumber because of your mishandled outbreak.

“This decision was inevitable, Y/N,” she speaks softly but firmly, reminding you like she has dozens of times in the past year, “the SS is innately toxic and I’m going to put an end to it. It’s not your fault. Remember that, Y/N.”

Blinking blankly at her, you take a deep breath and sigh heavily—but the weights on your shoulder remain ever the more prevalent. “It’s hard to tell myself that when the person I need to hear it from the most despises my guts, but yeah, I’ll try.”

“Don’t say that…” Solji murmurs, swiftly striding forward to take your hands into her own soft ones. Squatting down, she meets you at eye-level. “Has—” she hesitates in the midst of her tracks “—he, not contacted you at all?”

She avoids his name at all costs but that only makes you more aware of the pain that gnaws at your chest.

“Who? Oh, Yoongi? No, he’s probably too busy doing what celebrities do, you know? TV appearances, award ceremonies, and all that... ” you feign nonchalance that elicits a look of concern from your motherly friend. Shaking your head, you shrug; but just as quickly as your shoulders rise, your shoulders descend, seemingly monumentally heavier, as dejection dawns upon every inch of you. A familiar feeling of despair returns and all purpose to compose yourself leaks from the fading smile stitched to your lips… because what’s the point of pretending anymore? Swallowing the smidge of pride you had left, you let your eyes fall to the floor just as your spirit has. Your words come out meekly—you’re not even sure if you were speaking, for all you could sense is the slight slur of your tongue and tips of your grazing lips. “No… he hasn’t, no.”

“He hasn’t called you since he left? Or even texted you?”

Her voice crescendos under the hands of her wrath; but to you, her anger is an afterthought, a shadow to her deduction, because hearing her put your worst realizations into words, as if forcing you to acknowledge the harsh reality, hurts you the most. You don’t want to give up. It’s foolish. You don’t even deserve this privilege. But still. You don’t want to let go.

After all, despite all the harassment and bombardment from feverish fans and news outlets, isn’t that the reason why you begrudgingly kept your phone number? Foolishly and helplessly waiting for his and his name to light up your screen someday?

Clutching your phone tightly in your grips until it turns a numbish white, it takes all the strength in you to shake your head, “no, I haven’t heard anything from him since.”

You knew this would happen. What else did you deserve after betraying him. He already had trouble expressing himself outside the music realm; and yet, after he had so faithfully entrusted you with his secrets and vulnerability, you reminded him of all the reasons why he had hid from the world in the first place. This is what you deserve: radio silence.

But you just don’t think you can voice it out to Solji.

Not without cracking your voice and tumbling into an unstable mess, that is.

Observing your slow descent, Solji hastily squeezes your hand with a voice that rings of the only cheer you’ve heard in months. “Hey, what about that message we worked on putting together?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “I’m too scared to check.”

“...Y/N, I’m sure he’ll come around,” she finally manages to say after a long pause.

The more she says that, the harder it becomes to believe. At this point, you find no resolve to refute her utterly gullible implications. Pressing your lips into a thin line and routinely nodding your head, you look off into the distance beside you, waiting uncomfortably for her to untether you from her vigilance. As a seasoned professional around you, your lack of eye contact speaks volumes to her and the looming clouds seemingly spread its wings onto your friend. How cruel is it that happiness is limited, yet guilt seems to be boundless? You know you’re being a drag to your friend, so why does she even bother? It only makes you guiltier.

Her smile, on the other hand, has other plans, as it shoos the gray shadows away and out of her cubicle just as her hand on your shoulder brings light to your vision—and suddenly, as you peer up to find those vibrant, orange locks and cheek-raised smile of hers, it’s almost as if someone had swapped your icy cold, blue filters for a warmer, more welcoming gold. It’s relieving, really, to have someone there for you unconditionally.

“And if he doesn’t, then I guess it’s his loss and my gain. I get to have you all to myself!” she chimes likened to a kid with her favorite toy, and before you know it, she has you by the hands and pulls you to your feet as wind is knocked from your lungs. “C’mon, let’s go get something from your favorite coffee shop down the street, yeah?”

Your mind runs blank for a second but your lips return her smile, as if by second nature.

“...yeah,” you hum as she guides you through the labyrinth of cubicles and a gust of wind refreshes your hazy state.

The familiar irking honks and running engines blast you back into reality, a reality in which you had once lived on the daily just a year ago. Writing was your hobby, your everything, and yet, it crippled you, pained you, betrayed you. Sometimes the things you hold closest are the most dangerous of all and you learned that the hard way; but as Solji squeezes your hand and tosses her head back to check that you were in fact still present and somewhat well, her hair twirling in the wind and her eyes forming crescents, your heart welcomes you home once again. If holding her close would endanger you to further heartbreak down the road, you know she’s worth every ache.

“Hey, Solji?”

“Hm?” she twirls around once you two reach the crosswalk and await for the green light. After noticing the glimmer in your softened eyes that watch her with utter admiration, she shudders with a scoff. “What now? You want me to pay for you drink, too?”

“No,” you pout, hooking your arms to her own crossed ones and swaying her side to side. “I just wanted to thank you.”

“What is this about?” you can feel her cringing through her titters. “Why are you suddenly acting like this? I thought you were still in the dumps!”

“I am! But not as much now that you’re with me,” you coo, clearly amused enough by her reaction that you almost convince yourself to rub a cheek against her face; but instead, you choose to cradle your head into the crook of her neck.

“You silly girl,” she scolds, slapping the top of your head before settling into a soothing pat. “I’ll always be there for you.”

“Really?” you lift your head like a pleasantly surprised child and she frowns amusedly at the smile on your face. “You promise?”

“Promise? I need to promise you?” she gapes, baffled enough to slap you once again on the head. “Who else stayed by your side even after you abandoned them? Huh? I don’t see anyone! Tell me where—”

“—oh, there is one!” you exclaim and Solji whips her neck only to find you pointing at her right between her eyes. “She’s right here!”

Your usual antics elicits a groan and a roll of the eyes from her. The lights turn green and you nearly trip over your feet trying to catch up to her sudden acceleration as she attempts to flee your side, ironically contrary to her latest proclamations. “Well,” she scolds lightly akin to a lecturing friend who worries over you like a mother, striding confidently and pridefully through the streets with your arms hooked around hers, “as long as you know who’s really there for you and who’s not.”

“I know, I know,” your remarks exude of sheer blissful gratitude as you lay your head against her shoulders and smile giddily to yourself. “Looove you, mom.”

“Ugh,” she scrunches her shoulders, “please don’t do that ever again.”

Hands buried in your pocket and bare face exposed to the cold winds of winter, the thumps of your fuzzied heart is enough for you to acknowledge that you are alive.

“Do what?” you quip. “Love you?”

Arm in arm with the widest smile that stretches from ear to ear, you swear your heart has at long last awakened once again; for at this very moment, you can finally feel.

“Stop!”

Perhaps you aren’t completely well.

But you are alive and you know you still will be far down the road.

And for now?

That’s more than enough.

The stirring of the alcohol settles in the back of your throat, your mind still slightly hazed as your friend plops you onto the couch and you could do nothing but flash a goofy grin at her frown.

“Soljiii, let’s get another drink,” you drawl. “You promised we would go bar hopping!”

“Yes, you somehow convinced stupid me into taking you to a bar instead of a cafe, we bought you one drink, and now we hopped back to your apartment! See? Bar hopping,” she perks both hands up like a bunny, laughing at the scowl on your face. “You’re finally starting to feel better. I don’t want you to drink too much too soon. Ease your way back into it, alright?”

“I-I’m not even,” you pause because what exactly were you trying to say again—oh, right, “I’m not even that tipsy.”

Your friend narrows her eyes at you as she gathers her purse and coat. “...uhuh, well I prepped a bottle of water for you in the kitchen just in case. I’m almost late for my meeting, so I gotta go now. Call me if you need anything!” she shuffles to your door, throwing one last glance over her shoulder before departing. “And don’t go out on your own until you feel better, okay?”

“Psh—” the door slams “—what am I? A baby?”

Perhaps it’s the alcohol that runs through your veins or perhaps it’s the adrenaline after the first girl’s night out in a year, but nothing in you agrees to being locked within the confines of your cramped apartment. You need to distract yourself from wallowing in the dark, especially in your apartment, otherwise you’d face an all-too-predictable spiral into an abyss of self-pity. Jumping to your feet and stumbling toward the door, you hum a familiar tune that soothes the heart which aches in the wake of a high stuck in the deafening silence. You haven’t been able to pinpoint the origins of the tune that had pulled you through the sleepless nights and nightmarish days, but as you draw the door closed until just a crack between your doorframe and its lock remains, just enough for you to peak through at the disarranged sheets of your bed, and just long enough for you to gaze longingly at the two figures that lay in your bed eye-to-eye and arm-in-arm in a comfortable silence, an answer arrives and your heart is left with an unsettling stir.

The melancholic stain remains deeply rooted in tonight’s atmosphere and its intention to stay cements throughout the torturously lengthy night. You don’t realize it until you enter your elevator and press for the first floor that you notice the wall you had braced your heart with at every corner of your life. At some point in the last year, you had subconsciously defended yourself from the doleful memories that would reign your next few weeping nights.

Because as you stand here in the elevator, eyes stuck to the closed gray doors and thoughts feigned to be preoccupied elsewhere, it’s impossible not to notice the couple that had once stood by you. With your hands tangled in his hair and his arms wrapped over your waist, pushing you against the wall before pressing for the doors to close and returning his hands to slide to the small of your back, you can still feel his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. The electricity that sparked like fire between his lips and yours, the hastiness of his every touch that begged for the privacy of your room, and the worrying ache over spotting the daughter of a CEO that was drowned out by the waves of yearning and buried into the back of your mind like an extended dynamite persists to haunt you to this day.

Because as you make your way out of the apartment and down the streets of the neighborhood, the gray hues of a sky shrouded by gloomy clouds on a winter evening seeps into the backdrop, fading into nonexistence just as quickly as speckles of sapphire blue bedazzled by gleaming stars paint night as day. There, just a block down from your apartment, the steps of your foot patter against the sidewalk, slowly and reluctantly, as if to prolong a moment beyond time’s capabilities. Your surroundings whirl around you in a blur and before you could desperately grasp for a break, you’re brought back into a fragment in time when he had taken initiative and held your hands in his for the first time, intertwining your fingers and guiding you home. Silently under the starry night, he declared his love for you. Electrified by the spur of the magical moment, you had confessed your greatest epiphany of falling in love.

Because as you pass by your neighborhood and night returns to day, you can’t help but stare through the windows of a closed restaurant where Yoongi had once taken you on that one revisited night. You can still remember how he had insisted on taking you out, despite its risks and the potential dent in his career that you had ultimately caused in the end. You can recall staring at his hands on the table and hesitating to touch them but remaining curious nonetheless. There, next to that specific table in the corner of the store, he had lowered his walls and entrusted you with his heart. Music was his passion just as ink was your companion, but on that one fateful night, he was willing to share his greatest friend likened to handing the ultimate weapon to who would turn out to be his greatest foe—you.

It seems as though the omnipotent universe finds amusement in your pain, for every corner down the street, you find it screaming at you to remember… to reminisce… to wallow in the pain that incessantly evolves and somehow paves its way into existence once again, just as you had nearly ridden yourself of the parasite.

“Hey, isn’t that Y/N?”

You’re snapped back into reality when you hear someone whispering about.

“Y/N, who?”

“You know,” a pair of girls point at you with masks over their lips, joining a frenzied crowd down the street, “the girl who dated Yoongi right before news broke out over him and that CEO’s daughter!”

The girl’s next reply is like a punch to the gut, “they broke up though, right?”

“Oh,” her friend scoffs, hooking an arm over the other and pulling her toward the havoc that was the crowd, “definitely.”

Right, you recall to yourself as you pull the neckline of your sweater over your nose, this was why you never walked outside anymore. The spotlight Yoongi’s fame had put on you never seemed to fade after all these months. You aren’t exactly surprised, though; because as a black car pulls up the sidewalk and the crowd descends into chaos, time slows, air stills, and you’re warped back in another episode of deja vu. Watching people scream by the grand entry of the boys, standing afar off to the side of the mayhem with a garment to conceal your identity, it’s almost as if you’re just another character in a tape put on replay.

Not all fans are what they claim to be.

They don’t care for your well-being. They only care if your actions served them under the right conditions set by their own selfish demands.

One day, you could be their whole world.

Another day, you could be no one.

His fans are no exception, a fact all too evident as you stare off into the distance where people collided and thrashed violently against one another all in hopes of screaming incomprehensible strings of words at the glamorous idols that suffered from the chaos that ensues. Cameras flashing, questions flying, and microphones shoved into their personal space, the scene is all too familiar to the night when you first met Yoongi and the news of your dating scandal shook the entire universe.

“Whoa!” a girl yelps and you whip your head up only to find yourself collapsing onto the floor. Wind knocks out of your lungs and you heave for air, wincing at the stinging pain that vibrates from your bottom up. The girl, standing above you, spits, “hey, can you stand here in the middle of everything? You’re blocking our way.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re—”

“—oh, it’s you,” the girl gasps and a group of surrounding girls turn to stare at you in bewilderment. “Why are you here? Didn’t Yoongi dump your ass years ago? Or are you here to beg for him back?”

“Wha—

—it’s okay, take a deep breath, you tell yourself even as you can feel yourself gradually descending into relapse. The darkness that settles into your grim composure and the bitterness that looms over you escapes your grasp as the enemy in you broke free. You have to control yourself. You can’t cause a commotion after all the trouble you’ve brought to Yoongi. The media had seemed to have finally forgotten his scandal between you and him, despite the numerous times his agency refuted the claims. How much unwanted attention would your presence here divert from what truly matters: his music?

You’re ashamed of your actions. You’re ashamed of your feelings. Really, you’re ashamed of you.

Head hanging low and teeth gritting tight, you keep your glare to the ground and out of sight. The girls only snicker at you as others looked back with pity written over their faces before turning their backs on you once again and actively choosing to ignore the situation. One breath in, one breath out. It’s almost as if you have to remind yourself the simplest things, otherwise you’d freeze in motion and cause unnecessary attention.

But is it too late?

A series of gasps ripple throughout the crowd just as you dust the rubble off your hands. A hushed silence befalls your surroundings, as if by the crafts of magic. A familiar pace of footsteps echo in your riveting heart.

One step. Thump. Don’t walk toward me.

Hesitantly lifting your inspecting eyes form the red scratches against your palm, your heart stills by the boy who makes his way toward you.

Another step. Thump. Don’t save me.

Akin to flowers that bloom along a wizard’s path, the crowd parts amidst the silence as he walks with confident, swift strides, head down, and eyes locked on you. The power of his gaze is enough to fade the stinging pain and your liberated heart feels as light as the clouds of which your mind remains hazed by. No one mattered at this point, for tunnel vision had overtaken the both of you and everyone except you and him was but a blur.

One final step. Thump. I don’t deserve to be saved.

And it’s at this moment that an epiphany dawns upon you. You still long for his enigmatic mien, a stark contrast to his delicate touch and his gentle words that he had so curtly and unabashedly spoken with truth. He had always known what was best for you, for he, too, had undergone the lowest of the lows and the highest of the highs. You always knew that, even if you denied his help and went through the effort to voice your refusal in an attempt to aggravate the man. And despite all your tantrums and flails and screams, he remains here, patient and forgiving and understanding, waiting for the day you realize he was indeed nothing but a loyal friend betrothed to your heart.

Because here you are, wounded and tossed aside. Having hurt and been hurt, this was nothing but fair play. You deserve this… but justice isn’t a matter of concern to him. You were his utmost concern. You hurt him, more so than anyone else in this crowd, but the look in those ocean-like eyes that painted more words than those who would simply undermine it as apathetic told you his love is unconditional.

You were ashamed of yourself.

He should have been ashamed of you.

Yet here he is, holding his hand out for you and you only; and before you know it, you’re grasping onto the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Y/N, are you—”

“—sorry,” you blurt, yanking your hand back and hastily turning around. Shuffling forward, the ruckus that ensues behind you drowns underwater. You’re not even sure if Yoongi hears you mumble, “I have to go.”

“Y/N! Wait, Y/N!” you hear Yoongi call out several times but your feet remain persistent on its trek elsewhere, that is, until your heart melts at the familiar touch of a cold hand that clutches your wrist. Freezing in your tracks, you gulp. He pants in between his words, “Y/N, where are you going?”

“What are you doing?” you ask with your back on him.

“Following my heart,” he answers plainly. “What else have I ever done—”

“—I mean,” you cut, biting your bottom lip, “I mean, why are you here? Why did you do that in front of all your fans? What’re they going to say?”

“They can say whatever they want.”

Shutting your eyes, you take a shaky breath in and retract your hands from his, though not too roughly as to retain your frail heartstrings. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this.”

“You know damn well why,” he deadpans. “Y/N, please, at least look at me.”

You can hear the hissing crowd encroaching from afar.

“I don’t want to—”

“—I’ve missed you damn it.”

You wish he wouldn’t say that, it only makes it harder on you.

“Well,” you muster the courage to utter, even if your heart shatters as you do so, “I don’t.”

Every step forward plucks at your strings. Every distance furthered between you and him subtracted from the ticking bomb within you. It’s only a matter of time until you could no longer uphold your lie. So you make a run for it.

Forward, you chant to yourself, keep running until he’s forced to give up and return to the world where he truly belongs… and that’s exactly what you do. You run and you run and eventually you find yourself falling into yet another inevitable trap of the universe. Standing in front of the doors to a concert hall, a place you used to call home before the memories of the night shared between you and him haunted its every corner, you scan around for any passersby.

You should return home. It’s your safest bet. Plus, did the janitor really not change the lock after all these years?

Click.

The key slides perfectly into the lock; and even through all the protests your defense mechanism puts on, it’s only inevitable that your heart overtakes your body and you’re already slipping through the slit and leaving the world shut outside behind you.

Alas, the rows upon rows of burgundy velvet chairs, balconies upon balconies that line the walls, and the dim lighting across the room that plays a stark contrast to the golden lights focused on the stage, everything screams home to you. Even if you can still see him sitting down beside you on the front row, turning to smile that damn half-smile of his, your heart is content over a dream nearly turned reality just minutes prior. The boy of the past beckons for you and you follow him up the stage with a smile on your face. His ghost leads you before the piano, seating yourself onto a cushioned black bench and a set of white keys streaked with black.

Here, on the stage, the lights are blinding. The audience is blacked out and you can no longer see too far off into the distance. From here, you figure you must appear dazzling—perfect, even; but you know you’re flawed, maybe the golden glow that reflects against the polished wooden floor and onto you makes it hard to believe, but you know you’re human. Up here, the grand piano is the only thing that keeps you focused on the task at hand.

Is this the sight Yoongi faces every day?

Is this the mundane sight he faced on that night? Or did he see you watching him with those sparkles in your eyes that reflected the star on stage? Did he smile that night, performing whilst observing his sole audience member with utter adoration and a heart on his sleeves?

The sparks of that night makes its grand entrance, even as an unsettling realization dawns upon you—because the thing is, you don’t remember, you can’t remember if you were busy taking advantage of his vulnerability.

Three notes—you play the familiar notes that had lulled you to sleep throughout the trying year. The tune brings a bittersweet smile to your lips that tugs at your chest. The truth is, you miss him. You didn’t want to turn him away but you couldn’t be selfish any longer. Even so, you miss him. You want to hold him right here, right now.

“I see you still remember that little performance I put on for you.”

Whipping around, your eyes widen when you find him standing before you. Decked out in a classic black and white suit, with a loosened tie, tousled hair, and hands buried in his pockets, as if he wasn’t sprinting just a minute before, he approaches you slowly.

“I don’t,” you mumble a lie, turning your back on him and lowering your eyes to the keys in shame, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi chuckles and you can feel his vibrations against your back as he leans forward to hold your hands in a delicate grasp. “I see you’re also still not very honest with yourself,” he muses when you relax under his touch. His hands guide you to the keys—and you don’t know why, but you let him.

With his fingertips over yours and the top of your hands grazing against his rough palms, the complete song is like an entire symphony compared to the three notes you played earlier. Everything is almost a carbon copy of that magical night, except here he is, holding you in his arms, and here you are, head against his chest as you count the rhythm of his quickening heart. The tune, too, has evolved from the melancholic melody from before.

“...is this the same song?” you can barely utter.

“Oh, so you do remember,” he remarks and you can practically hear him smirk. “The song I played for you was supposed to be the hook for one of my tracks.”

“It sounds different though. It sounds… happier.”

“Does it?” he chortles, still gliding your hands across the piano. “I revised it after that night. I wanted it to be an accurate reflection of me. Simply put, it was too sad, too lonesome. This is more fitting.”

And now…? How is this an accurate reflection of him? If anything, your betrayal should have been the most lonesome act of all… unless he found someone new.

The thought has something gnawing in you as your hands fall from the keys and back into your lap. The music stops and silence follows. The deafening confessions exchanged between his heart and yours are all you can hear echoing in the vast room.

“...why are you still treating me so well?” you finally mutter. His silence only spurs you further into an unexplained fury as you raise your voice. “Don’t you hate me...? Don’t you hate me for lying to you, for taking advantage of you, for breaking your trust when you had so meticulously told me not to?!”

Even in a time like this, Yoongi remains composed as he always does, silently putting his thoughts into words that would eventually quell your fire.

“I didn’t hate you. I was mad and it hurt like hell for months on end, but I don’t hate you,” he states firmly. “You know I’ve never been one with words, but hell, Y/N, I’ve missed you.”

“Why did your company tell everyone we were through without giving me a single warning, then?” you shake your head in a fruitless attempt to still your racing heart. “Why didn’t you text me back? Why didn’t you call?”

“I did text,” he confesses and you freeze. “I didn’t text you, but I told Solji to take care of you. That’s the most I could do while retaining our break. It was for the better... but if you were waiting for my call, then why didn’t you call?”

“Well,” you pause, taken aback, “you said you wanted a break. I knew I hurt you too much. I couldn’t just be selfish again and force you to be reminded of me after you had requested me not to.”

“...is that why you never told anyone Ink Nemesis was really just an aspiring writer in disguise?”

Silence.

How does he know that?

No one would have arrived at that conclusion. It just doesn’t make sense.

How does he always read right through you?

“No,” you shake your head profusely. “That doesn’t even make sense. I’m a selfish person, you know that. I didn’t tell anyone so that I wouldn’t tarnish my reputation. I could still go out in public if no one knew I was the one who released those photos. I could still establish my career as a writer if no one knew I was Ink Nemesis—”

“—because you were selfless and because you changed after recognizing how much you hurt me, you decided your confession would only tarnish my reputation,” he surmises a little too accurately, “even if that meant you would have to be plagued with guilt that you’re still trying to carry to your grave.”

Bulls-eye.

“It… it doesn’t matter anymore,” you bite your bottom lip, hoping anything would stop you from speaking the truth. “Everything happened so long ago. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good. I don’t want it to hurt anymore,” he places both hands on you and you comply as he turns you around to face him. Bangs hanging over his eyes as he leans downwards, your heart jumps at the soft edges of his that you had so yearned to see in flesh again. He speaks lowly but surely, “but isn’t there anything still left from back then?”

You still love him.

Meekly answering, you utter, “...no.”

“Really? I’m the only one reliving this hellish nightmare on replay, reminiscing over our undeniable chemistry because—and I swear on my life—I would never be able to find someone who understood me like you?” he lays his heart out on the table. “Am I really the only one who feels these sparks?”

Peering up at him to meet his gaze, you can make out the sincerity of his face where the shadows of the blinding lights above falls gracefully. The surrealism of it all takes you out of the race. Even if you were to lie, he would see right through you.

“...no,” you gulp, lowering your head to conceal the waterworks that make its way to your eyes, “no, you’re not.”

“I never trusted anyone more than you, Y/N. You know I gave you my entire heart, right?” he speaks sternly. “So is there anything else you want to say to me?”

“I’m... sorry, Yoongi. I never wanted to hurt you—” the words you’ve been wanting to say come to you naturally, as if rehearsed thousands of times “—I know it doesn’t matter now, but I won’t ever hurt you again. Ever.”

“Why?” he utters, fingers on your chin and tilting your head back until your gaze meets his. Yoongi’s eyes soften for a second at the sight of the warm tears streaming down your cheeks, lifting another hand to gently wipe the drops away. His touch is electricity against your bare skin.

“Because I love you.”

Yoongi smiles that lopsided smile of his, fruitlessly stifling the chortles that escape before uttering one last time “then it does matter, love” and locking his lips with yours.

That, in itself, is enough to tell you he’s forgiven you.

And now, you can finally forgive yourself.

“First of all,” you clear your throat hesitantly, leaning forward into the microphone that squeaks, “I would like to thank you all for coming to this press conference. Although Yoongi and I have already settled things privately, I would like to publicly apologize for my malicious actions against Min Yoongi of BTS. Two years ago I was in an unstable position and I was willing to accept any job just to make a living and persist to chase my goals as an aspiring writer. I know me coming out as Ink Nemesis is not enough of a rectification for my actions, and I understand why certain networks have refused to attend tonight’s press conference, so I want to take this time to thank those who have. I promise I will do my best to answer any question with utmost truth.”

Dozens of cameras flash in the room filled with reporters and previous fans of the works on your blog. Surprisingly, you can’t even count the number of heads in the cramped room, even if certain fans, both his and yours, had boycotted the press for your first upcoming novel. It takes everything in you not to squint at the blinding lights, because if there’s anything your relationship with Min Yoongi has taught you in the past year, it would be that the media tears you apart over the most trifling matters.

“So, um…” you mumble, shifting in your seat, “we can begin the Q&A.”

No one speaks but the flashes and clicks persist throughout the silence. Your eyes flicker across the crowd only to find Yoongi’s intent gaze under the rim of his bucket hat with ease. His eyes widen slightly at your call for help before he blinks blankly, looks around, and kicks the chair of the closest reporter to him.

“Oh!” the bespectacled man raises his hand, jumping at the sudden vibration.

You lean into the microphone, “yes?”

“Seeing as you have mentioned your humble beginnings as a blog writer, could you explain why you took pleasure in writing via a blog and not through an agency?”

“Ah, that’s a good question,” you purse your lips. “Actually, I think there are many perks to writing on a blog that many don’t consider, both readers and writers alike. Through a blog, readers can comment on any part of a chapter. Specific feedback, especially the ones that quote certain excerpts of my work, can be really helpful in my progression as a writer. Not to mention, their reception helps motivate me as I write later chapters in the series. I think it’s pretty cool that readers can send messages to their favorite writers and writers can have a personal connection with the very people who support their livelihood.”

Another man raises his hand, “and what about the cons to running an online blog?”

“Hm, where do I start?” you laugh along with the crowd. “First off, I have to figure out how to even run a blog. I have to design my website, I have to edit my own work, I have to create a cover that looks somewhat presentable, and most of all, I don’t even get paid! The algorithm always changes, so the attention your works receive might not be an accurate representation of its quality.”

“Can you elaborate on how to assess the quality of your work?”

“Well, that’s a difficult one to answer. Sometimes numbers such as likes, reblogs, and comments are a good indication of how many people have read your work, but not everyone leaves any notes. Sometimes people are busy on the days you post and sometimes people just don’t see or aren’t interested in your cover or synopsis.”

“How does it feel when your work is not received well in terms of numbers and what do you do to proceed? Does the reception change the direction of your work?”

“Honestly, it’s pretty dejecting when you spend hours on something and no one responds. That’s how it is in life, though,” you shrug. “In fact, there was a time on my blog when one of my works received all the attention, whereas another one of my works went completely under the radar. It was pretty despairing to see the stark contrast.”

“And why is that?”

“Why?” you pause. “Well, I have to say I’m a very competitive person. I’ve always wanted to be the best at what I do and I hated that my own work was stifling my growth. I wanted to grow as a writer, and somewhere along the way, numbers became my definition of success and quality. When I noticed that the numbers were falling on something that I was so proud of, I was disappointed. Relying on numbers is a realistic but grave mistake. Nowadays, I could care less about the numbers. Of course, a part of me still cares and I still would love a reasonable amount of notes—” you laugh “—but getting over the misconception that numbers are equivalent to quality helped me in my return to fiction. Honestly, people who rely on numbers are missing out on a lot of amazing works. Trust me.”

“What would you tell your past self right before you shut down your blog?”

“I guess,” you have to pause and think, “I guess I would tell her to go ahead and do it. I would tell her she had so much to live, so much that she was missing out on life because she gave so much of her time and heart on her blog. I would tell her that when the time comes, inevitably, she would write again because she wants to and not because of anything else.”

“Why did you really take down your works?”

“Ah—” how should you go about this topic that even you want to avoid “—it has to do with my reasoning before. I’m a competitive person and I was disappointed in myself. Certain readers only responded when I updated one of my works, some people even unfollowed me whenever I posted something else, but they were never there when I voiced my struggles or needed help from public disputes. I know it sounds silly and I really shouldn’t hold it against them, but it felt like no one cared about me until I served them. My creativity was stifled. Everything added up and I just didn’t want to have anything to do with my blog. Honestly, I was putting too much pressure on myself. I was conceited and it was dumb of me to have such a toxic perspective. Other writers wrote beautiful works, regardless of whether they had higher and lower number of notes, but I couldn’t help comparing myself to them. It’s embarrassing to say this out loud now, really, but that’s the truth. I think it’s a truth that echoes with many online writers.”

The crowd nods their heads and people start scribbling onto their notepad. Several hands raised in the crowd but you can barely see anyone amidst the flashes, so you toss a finger up somewhere in the air.

“How are you and Yoongi doing right now and how did he respond when you posted the picture of him on his affair?”

An audible gasp echoes in the room as you frown, brows furrowed and mouth hung agape at the unrelated question. The reporters stiffen, because surely, it’s a question they’ve all thought of asking but had the decency to refrain from. Trying your best to retain Yoongi’s hidden spot amongst the crowd, you keep your eyes on the reporter.

“I’m sorry but that’s something only him and I should be concerned over. Him and I are doing just fine, thank you,” you smile when you spot Yoongi giving you a nod with an affirmative smile that says that’s my girl.

A loud series of coughs saves the tense silence that follows. Everyone’s eyes dart to the very front right row, and when a light focuses on the reporter and their identity is revealed amidst the blackened platform below your stage, you can’t help but smile fondly at her.

After years of silence, it seems the grudge has finally been settled by her attendance, and thereby support, of your first press conference.

“Moving onto more important and relevant topics,” Xiao Lin settles the notepad into her lap, devoting all of her attention to you with a grin, “will you ever return to your writing blog? In other words, will you post your old works again?”

“Well, I have returned to my writing blog every once in a while,” you hum. “I’m no longer the same person as I was before, but I’m also not ashamed of who I was and the works that I wrote in the past. When I return, I will return on my own accord and my own terms. I’ll leave you with that.”

“And…” she scribbles something onto her notepad before looking up, “what will be the name of your upcoming novel?”

A stagnant silence floods the room that waits with bated breath as you lean into the desk and prolong the suspension. Smiling to Yoongi, head lifted and chin high, you speak proudly into the microphone. Alas, when the answer leaves your lips, a hushed gasp intermixed with a collective plaudit arises, for your proclamation is merely the first signal for the end of a beginning.

“Ink Nemesis.”

are you ready for it?

461 notes · View notes