#I don’t like his shoes either I just have to completely redo them and I don’t feels like it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cryptidofthekeys · 2 years

Text

Addison OC

I uh remade the sona I once had into a full OC and I like the redo SO much better than the old version like holy shit gkjfld;jkgfds is this a new comfort OC that Imma love and cherish for awhile? It is, it 100% is

anyways meet Purp, Purps, Addy, or Dison- whatever you wanna call him (...I was thinking of an ACTUAL name aside from just nicknames but I literally got NOTHING whatsoever)

---------------------------------------

| Name: Purple Addison

| Nicknames: Purp/Purps, Addy, or Dison

| Gender: Trans FTM (He/Him)

| Age: I’d say… Mid 30s to 40s

| Height: 6’3” but technically speaking he has sizeshifting powers, they are just completely out of his control, the limit for shrinking is 5 inches tall, the limit for growing is 100ft

| Species/Race: Addison which- is p obvious I suppose

| Eye Color: Royal Purple

| Hair Color: Light pastel lavender purple (he usually keeps his hair up in a man bun)

--------------------------------------------

| Fur Color/Body Type: The same as his hair p much lmao (he’s got very plush fur, so soft that if you push your hand on him you’ll sink into him lmao) and he’s fat- Fat, wide, and tall! (he can be a bit insecure about how wide he is though, not being fat- I need to be VERY clear on that, he’s not insecure about his weight it’s just the width- he’s worried he’ll accidentally bump something or someone over)

-----------------------------------------------------

| Appearance: His main outfit (I don’t mind the Addisons’ main attire but I wanna do something different for Dison) but it's a sleeveless black turtleneck with a boob window (he has a rather large tuft of fur sticking out and honestly? It’s shaped into a heart thanks to the boob window) he wears a long dark purple trench coat (not leather) but he usually keeps the sleeves on it rolled up to his elbows (he rarely ever buttons the coat either), he wears green pants (not the green ones the actual Addisons wear, it's like a darker green tbh) and then finally he wears some simple black slip on shoes.

---------------------------------------------------------

He doesn’t have claws (it’d be really hard to make miniatures if he did) but he does have fangs, both on top and bottom- (god I hate describing his head shape bc the Addisons are all so… weirdly shaped jkgljfgdls) Imma just leave it as Octagon shaped so yeah, its wide n big enough to fit tbh- he doesn’t have a beard as he’s just got plush fur all over, he has a pointed nose like all the other Addisons, and the only other detail I can think to add is literally just his top surgery scars (the only scars he’s got actually)

---------------------------------------------------------

| Personality: Dison is literally super sweet, kind, polite, caring, and loving as can be- He isn’t like the other Addisons in a lot of ways tbh, seeing as he won’t just try to push his products and sell them all the time like he’ll ACTUALLY have a decent conversation with you, now don’t get him wrong he DOES still advertise his miniatures, he IS still an Addison …Or well he thinks he is? …H…He’s not sure what else he could be? He’s shaped like them n shit like that-

------------------------------------------------------------

He does get disappointed if you show no interest in his crafts but he’ll accept it and move on, he won’t try to push or force you into anything like that, after all you must have no need or no place to put something like these, he knows it’s… Very different from the other Addisons- but it’s something he’s actually passionate about and he figures if he’s going to advertise something he wants to actually like doing it and have fun.

------------------------------------------------------------

He’s kinda like a dad friend tbh, he’s very caring and can be concerned about others, whether it be Darkners or Lightners, he’ll make sure you’re doing okay and if you need to talk about something then come to him, he’ll help out in anyway he can- (if someone’s bothering you? Go ahead, tell him, he’ll sort it out) …Not with violence I should say, he HATES violence, honestly terrified because he can’t fight to save his life so he wouldn’t be very good in a situation like that (he’s a true pacifist, prefers to talk his way out of situations) …BUT… If he’s pushed to his breaking point he’s not just gonna let himself or the others he cares about die ya know?

---------------------------------------------------

Is the type if he joins your adventures, like I said- VERY much a dad friend, brings plenty of healing items, definitely carries snacks in a lil fanny pack and mm various other items tbh (probs a good amount of comfort items like plushies, blankets, stress toys, etc) he literally just wants to make sure you’re alright in the end.

--------------------------------------------------

Despite not knowing how to truly fight and sucking ass at it, he is actually fairly strong! …Which is why 1: He has to be extra careful when making his miniatures (has broken a l o t in the past with carelessness) and then 2: He gives BIG bear hugs, like he’ll wrap his arms fully around you and then just kinda twist side to side (you will be enveloped with the plush fur …just don’t sink too far) …He’d be devastated if he actually crushed someone with a hug and never forgive himself.

--------------------------------------------------

Due to his size already in more ways than one, other Darkners are often intimidated by him and he absolutely hates it, the only time he actually loves being intimidating is when it comes to protecting those he cares about (he can be very overprotective)

----------------------------------------------------

Despite asking and making sure everyone else is okay n shit like that, he’s… Not very good at that himself, making sure HE’S okay, he’s got dark circles under his eyes (he stays up too late sometimes working on miniatures and mm for... OTHER reasons...) he’s definitely got his anxieties and fears and VERY MUCH unlike the other Addisons he won’t deny, he does have a bit of social anxiety and he can be kinda awkward …But he tries to be as nice and polite as he can!

-------------------------------------------------------

| Side Facts: Alright I’ve mentioned the others SOOO very much, I have to state something- …Purps actually has no fucking clue what the other Addisons are like LMAO, he’s never personally met them, just saw them selling things and going about their business in the city but he’s never met them personally, honestly? Despite them probs thinking he’s intimidating bc of his size, he’s actually more intimidated of them than they are of him.

-----------------------------------------------------

Addy has no clue what the other Addisons are like but he has seen the products they sell…

----------------------------------------------

They sell much more… Normal things than he has so he wonders if he’s being too particular about this, he does want to fit in so badly, even though he’s never actually properly interacted with the other Addisons, he wants to be like them, he wants to fit in because if he’s NOT like them …Then is he just… a defective Addison? …He sometimes worries about that, that he’s not doing what he should be doing, that he’s going too far outside of the box by making minis and selling them.

----------------------------------------------

Sometimes he wonders if he should just give that up and sell something a bit more, in the norm… And even start being more advertise-y …and pushing his products more, etc- It seems like they all do that from what he’s seen anyways, he worries about that a lot because he really would like to properly meet them one day, but he’s worried they’ll see him as just merely some kinda glitch or flaw of an Addison because of what he sells AND the fact he’s not as pushy or anything with his products.

------------------------------------------------

And not even to MENTION the whole size shifting problem, that’s caused him to lose business before multiple times and still continues to do so as well, that’s also why he’s afraid to meet the Addisons bc if they see that well then it just proves that he really is a glitch, a flaw so to speak- …And plus another thing, being suddenly overwhelmingly tiny? Around now a giant place and giant people? …Not fun and even when he’s the one that’s giant? ABSOLUTELY NOT FUN- It’s just completely distressing and he literally freezes in place until the size shifting ability decides to fuck off.

---------------------------------------------------

…I uh haven’t got the situation fully planned out as to why he does that but I’ll have something later on gfjkldkfgdf;s that’s not the main focus anyways- just,, trust the process- Likewise, all my ocs/sonas have the very tiny fine print that you need to zoom in to read! All things are subject to change in the long run (mostly that goes for personality wise and anything in the side facts, not really description wise)

---------------------------------------------------------

The one Addison he thought was strange was that one little guy, he was a White Addison and well, Purp hadn’t really seen him before- it’s like he just kinda appeared one day …Or maybe he just didn’t come out that much, either way, likewise- he didn’t know him personally but he knew that very same Addison went onto become the biggest name in all of Cyber City, his name was… Spamton, yeah- that’s it- It’s hard to NOT know about that guy, even now with him… Well, gone pretty much-

------------------------------------------------------

He used to see commercials, ads obviously, etc all the t i m e about this dude, he just suddenly blew up one day it seemed- …While Dison never interacted with him (not in pre-big shot era or actua big shot era) he was happy for the lil fella nonetheless …He did notice the other Addisons seemed tense during that time period and even now, even though he still doesn’t know them personally and hasn’t interacted with him, there’s a certain energy, a certain… Tense aura in the air still surrounding those remaining four.

---------------------------------------------------------

…Bc I can say so, imma be honest- literally the most intimidating Addison of all the ones for Dison would be Pink, hands down- I can say that with confidence bc well, I mean he IS my OC- ...Also bc for reasons I won’t be explaining, I think it’s funny as hell that Pink would be the most intimidating for him.

---------------------------------------------------------

Lmao the Pink one would scare him the most. But ahem- aside from all that, back to the size shifting ability- if Dison could control it? He would actually fucking LOVE it! He did always wonder what it’d be like to actually be, well, miniature (way more so than a giant, he does not like being a giant period, his width and height already makes him nervous, he always feels like he’s one step closer to hurting someone)

------------------------------------------------------

…He supposes even though he CAN’T control it, when he does become tiny or giant, the ONE singular pro of the both of them together is that it gives him s o much more perspective than what he once had, which definitely caused an increase in quality in his miniature sets.

----------------------------------------------------

(btw I should say I do actually know how he’d feel/what he’d think of all the Addisons, plus Spamton, both pre-big shot and big shot era …And even n o w, I got that in my head) but the final bits I can think to add is just, when he’s not working on miniatures, he likes to relax with some calming music (most of it is instrumental music imma be honest) and or just go for a nice walk …Even though the City can kinda be a pain in the- …ahem- anyways, he has a deep voice + a southern accent (despite being in a city, sh-shut up, just let him have this) but is usually soft spoken (never raises nor wants to raise his voice) and finally…

---------------------------------------

Dison is Pansexual and Polyamorous.

#deltarune oc #deltarune #deltarune addisons #deltarune addison oc #i fucking hate describing the head shape but I want him to have a funky lookin head shape like the others #so just- o C T A G O N-#oc #original character #i gave him a bit more... Depth if you will #and redid some of the way I phrased or said things #...also yeah yeah- I love large characters ..a l o t- large n tall

5 notes · View notes

bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Nothing wrong with nail polish

When Jiang Cheng gets out of the car he briefly wonders if he shouldn’t just turn back around and drive back home. Nie Mingjue did say that he didn’t want to meet because he was looking forward to a relaxing evening, but he also said that Jiang Cheng can come over whenever.

The indecision makes Jiang Cheng hesitate for a long, moment but in the end he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks towards the house.

He brought his own work. He and Nie Mingjue don’t even have to talk; they can just quietly work on their own stuff, or watch TV or something. It’s not like Jiang Cheng expects or needs much, but he has missed Nie Mingjue this past week and he just wants to see him.

So he lets himself into the house like he usually does but he doesn’t call out for Nie Mingjue because he doesn’t want to startle him. A quiet evening, Nie Mingjue has said. Jiang Cheng can give him that, even with being present.

He just hopes he isn’t overstepping here.

Jiang Cheng puts his bag down by the door, toes off his shoes and then makes his way towards the kitchen first. Nie Mingjue does like to cook, so maybe Jiang Cheng will find him there, but when he enters the room, he finds dinner already packed away so clearly Nie Mingjue is done with that part of the evening.

The living-room it is then, Jiang Cheng decides.

He makes his way further into the house, briefly wondering about the fact that Nie Mingjue doesn’t even seem to be watching anything on the TV but by then he’s already stepping into the living-room. And what he sees makes him freeze in the doorway long before Nie Mingjue even notices him.

Nie Mingjue is seated on the couch, but he’s hunched over the table, one hand on top of it, while he applies nail polish with the other.

It’s not the first time Jiang Cheng has seen Nie Mingjue with nail polish, but usually it’s Nie Huaisang who applies it, claiming that he needs a test dummy to practice a new technique or something so this comes as quite the surprise to Jiang Cheng.

He’s not sure what alerts Nie Mingjue to his presence, but his head flies up, his eyes wide when he notices Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng is surprised to see the panic in his eyes.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, the nail polish forgotten in his hand and smearing carelessly onto his nails and Jiang Cheng shakes himself out of his surprise.

“You need to take better care,” he chides Nie Mingjue as he takes a Kleenex and quickly wipes the nail polish off the ruined nail.

It didn’t dry too much, so Nie Mingjue can simply redo it, he thinks.

“Hi,” he then belatedly says and presses a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s hand, thinking that Nie Mingjue still seems a little bit too shocked to receive a kiss to the lips.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Mingjue asks, still completely unmoving where he sits, the small brush remaining in his hand.

“Gimme that,” Jiang Cheng mutters and gently takes it from him, putting it back in the bottle and sealing it up. “I’m sorry for barging in like this, but I missed you,” Jiang Cheng then honestly tells him, still confused by the utter look of panic on Nie Mingjue’s face.

“I probably shouldn’t have come by, huh?” Jiang Cheng lowly asks with a regretful smile when Nie Mingjue stays silent and Nie Mingjue abruptly stands up.

“I said you were always welcome,” he gives back but he can’t quite meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes and Jiang Cheng can’t shake the feeling that he did something wrong.

That he messed up somehow.

“But not today, huh?” Jiang Cheng tries for a light voice, but he knows he misses the mark when Nie Mingjue frowns at him.

“I’m not—you weren’t supposed to see that,” Nie Mingjue says after a long moment, and belatedly hides his hand behind his back as if the nail polish bottle on the table alone wouldn’t have clued Jiang Cheng in on what he had been doing.

“Why not?” Jiang Cheng asks, because this hardly is the first time he sees Nie Mingjue like this, but something about it is clearly different than normally. “Huaisang put nail polish on you multiple times, didn’t he?” he asks, because he remembers the last time Nie Huaisang did it.

Nie Mingjue came to him with sparkling nails, rolling his eyes good naturedly when he told him Nie Huaisang was trying something new yet again.

Nie Mingjue clenches his jaw at the question and he turns away from Jiang Cheng, his shoulders hunched up.

“I said I wanted to be alone this evening,” Nie Mingjue snaps at him instead of answering the question and a year ago Jiang Cheng would have bristled and been hurt by his tone, letting all the insecurities back into his life, but he likes to think that he grew as a person.

He likes to think that he grew as Nie Mingjue’s boyfriend.

“You said you wanted a relaxing evening,” Jiang Cheng counters, though he keeps his voice even. “You did not tell me to stay away, and I thought we could be relaxing together. I’m sorry for assuming.”

It takes Nie Mingjue a few deep breaths before his shoulders finally come down from where he had them all drawn up.

“Don’t be. I should have been clear,” Nie Mingjue mutters and drags a hand over his face.

“What’s going on, my soul?” Jiang Cheng dares to ask, now that Nie Mingjue seems a bit more relaxed and he walks over to Nie Mingjue.

He slings his arms around his middle and presses his forehead to Nie Mingjue’s back between his shoulder blades and just feels Nie Mingjue breathe for a few moments.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Nie Mingjue says again and it makes just as much sense as it did the first time.

“Why not?” Jiang Cheng also repeats and Nie Mingjue slumps in his arms.

“It’s not always Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue whispers, and some of the tension seeps back into his form. “Applying the nail polish, I mean,” Nie Mingjue finishes when Jiang Cheng waits him out, and Jiang Cheng frowns.

“So?” he wants to know, because he still doesn’t understand where the problem is here.

“It’s not—why are you so calm?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and he breaks out of Jiang Cheng’s arms to pace the length of the living-room.

“I have seen you with nail polish before,” Jiang Cheng reminds him, very confused about what’s upsetting Nie Mingjue like this.

“Yeah, but it was Huaisang who put it on me, because he needed to practice,” Nie Mingjue shoots back and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“So? Apparently he doesn’t always practice on you and you sometimes do it yourself. I don’t understand why that is such a big deal!”

“I like wearing nail polish!” Nie Mingjue almost yells at him and he throws his hands in the air. “I know I shouldn’t but I do, okay? And Huaisang only applies it for me half of the time at best, because mostly I do it on my own. It’s just—a convenient excuse,” Nie Mingjue confesses, but he doesn’t seem relieved to say it out loud.

Jiang Cheng mulls that over for a bit before he turns around and goes back to his bag.

He’s pretty sure he brought it with him, he thinks as he rummages around in it, but it takes him a good while to find it. Long enough for Nie Mingjue to show up in the doorway, his face pale and unhappy as he watches Jiang Cheng.

“What are you doing?” he asks when Jiang Cheng clearly takes too long looking for it, and when Jiang Cheng turns to look at him, he looks scared.

As if Jiang Cheng would leave him for something as silly as this.

“I’m looking for some—aha,” he triumphantly says when his fingers close around the small bottle and he keeps it hidden in his fist as he walks back to Nie Mingjue.

“I was going to give this to Huaisang with a subtle suggestion that maybe he should try this on his favourite test subject, but it seems like I don’t have to anymore,” Jiang Cheng says and takes Nie Mingjue’s hand in his to put the little bottle into his hand.

Nie Mingjue’s eyes get big when he sees that it’s a nail polish and he blinks twice before he turns his gaze back to Jiang Cheng.

“I think this colour would look very good on you,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug and drags Nie Mingjue back into the living-room. “You don’t have to use it, obviously, if you don’t like the colour, but I just thought—well, why not, right?” Jiang Cheng goes on when Nie Mingjue stays silent for too long.

“You don’t—mind?” Nie Mingjue carefully asks. “That I want to wear nail polish?”

“Why would I?” Jiang Cheng gives back.

“It’s not what men should do?” Nie Mingjue shoots back and Jiang Cheng laughs.

“Yeah, well, according to some people men shouldn’t be dating either and that never stopped you,” he gives back with a teasing smile and he feels accomplished when Nie Mingjue smiles back at him.

“But that’s something you do as well,” Nie Mingjue still argues back as if Jiang Cheng would truly, honestly mind that Nie Mingjue does something he likes.

“You’re an idiot,” Jiang Cheng says and rolls his eyes. “For all that I care you could be wearing skirts and dresses and I would still love you. Hell, I hope you don’t mind that I sometimes wear make-up when we I go clubbing with A-Ying. The eyeliner does make my glares more cutting and I like it that way,” Jiang Cheng easily gives back and it’s not even a lie.

“But doesn’t Wei Wuxian apply that for you?”

“He used to, but not as a test dummy. He did it for me, because I wanted to. But I actually learned how to do it myself a while back, so I’m no longer reliant on the most unreliable person on the planet,” Jiang Cheng tells him.

It seems like Nie Mingjue wants to say something else, but Jiang Cheng is tired of hearing him worry about something this silly, so he takes Nie Mingjue’s face in his hands.

“My soul, listen. I don’t care. If you like wearing nail polish then by the gods, wear nail polish, no scheme needed, okay? If you want to learn how to do a mean eye-liner I can show you, and if you want to do anything else that’s not considered masculine I’ll support you, because it’s a stupid concept anyway. But I don’t mind, and I love you just as much as I did before.”

“I love you, too,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back, but Jiang Cheng knows him well enough to see the relief on his face.

He was honestly worried that Jiang Cheng would be upset over this and Jiang Cheng cannot let this stand.

“I bought this nail polish with the explicit thought of you wearing it, my soul. If you don’t like the colour, that’s fine, but this is how much I mind that you want to wear nail polish. I’m gonna buy you all the nail polish if you really want,” Jiang Cheng promises and thinks back to the sparkling silver one he also saw.

He might have to buy that one next.

“I love you,” Nie Mingjue says again, but this time he sounds much firmer and way more settled and Jiang Cheng smiles at him.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng nods. “Now, did you really not want to see me or is it okay if I stay and we do our respective thing or whatever?” he asks, looking down at the abandoned nail polish on the table, the one Nie Mingjue was applying before Jiang Cheng barged in.

“I would like it if you stayed,” Nie Mingjue says and leans forward to kiss Jiang Cheng. “Hi, by the way.”

“Hi,” Jiang Cheng breathes out when they part, a silly smile on his face that drops when Nie Mingjue gets up. “Where are you going? I was just getting started,” he complaints and makes grabby hands at Nie Mingjue.

“Be a good boy, I need to get some remover for this,” Nie Mingjue says with a laugh and wriggles his fingers at Jiang Cheng.

“What? Why? I thought we established that it’s okay! I didn’t make you mess it all up, did I?” he asks, reaching out for Nie Mingjue’s hand to inspect his nails personally.

It seems like most of the polish dried without a problem so he doesn’t understand why Nie Mingjue would want to remove it again.

“You didn’t,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and bends down to kiss Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “But you brought me a colour that is so much nicer than what I have here and I want to try it immediately,” Nie Mingjue then tells him and Jiang Cheng sighs out in relief.

“Alright then,” he allows. “That’s the only reason I will let pass.”

“How generous of you,” Nie Mingjue throws over his shoulder as he walks into the bathroom.

Jiang Cheng makes himself comfortable on the couch and it’s not long before Nie Mingjue is back. He gets to work almost immediately, and Jiang Cheng is very content simply watching him meticulously cleaning the old polish off his nails, before he leaves again to wash the remaining remover off.

Jiang Cheng tries to hold very still when Nie Mingjue applies the new colour, not wanting him to mess anything up, and when he’s done Jiang Cheng carefully takes one of his hands to admire the new colour.

“I knew this colour would look amazing on you,” he breathes out and kisses the back of Nie Mingjue’s hand, before he slides under his arm and snuggles into his side, still mindful of the wet polish.

“Thank you for thinking of me when you saw it,” Nie Mingjue whispers back and hugs Jiang Cheng close.

“I’m always thinking of you,” Jiang Cheng tells him. “It’s a problem, honestly.”

“I don’t think so,” Nie Mingjue chuckles. “I’m thinking of you all the time, too.”

“As you should,” Jiang Cheng decides and then reaches for the remote for the TV.

They spend the rest of the evening snuggled together, almost not speaking at all, but Jiang Cheng can see the satisfied and happy look on Nie Mingjue’s face when he can’t stop ghosting his fingers over Nie Mingjue’s freshly painted nails.

It really is Nie Mingjue’s colour and Jiang Cheng vows to get him many more. Anything to see him this happy again, he decides.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #mingcheng #the untamed #mdzs #modern au #established relationship #insecurity #nail polish #hurt/comfort #fluff #cuddling and snuggling

162 notes · View notes

impulsive-astrophile · 3 years

Text

Heaven and Hell Were Words to Me

MSR | Gen | ~1.8k words

Post-“Monday”, Mulder and Scully try to heal from trauma they can’t really remember.

Tagging @today-in-fic.

Read it on ao3, or below the cut!

It starts on Tuesday.

Scully comes into the office to find Mulder already there - as had been usual until after Dreamland - looking as tired as she feels.

Despite having gotten 8 hours of sleep, Scully had woken that morning feeling exhausted. Fragments of nightmares she can’t quite remember left her stomach churning enough that she didn’t even have breakfast.

Seeing Mulder instantly calms her a little. Touching him is even better. Her hands stop shaking for the first time in hours when she finds a reason to cross the room and touch his shoulder to ask where a file is. But whenever he’s out of sight, a pit drops back into her stomach like a stone, her limbs becoming heavy with dread.

He’s gone for 5 minutes that afternoon to use that bathroom, and her hands start to shake again.

He’s gone for 30 minutes the next day to pick up lunch, and she can barely type, noting reluctantly that her resting heart rate climbs to almost double her regular resting rate and into tachycardia - hovering around 130.

It’s ridiculous, she tells herself. They’re both fully functional, independent adults who can operate without the other.

But Mulder seems reluctant to be away from her, as well; on Thursday, he proposes she go with him to get lunch (which he never does because she hates it - she gets line-rage, and he doesn’t mind picking it up for them), and she jumps at the opportunity. His hand is rooted to the small of her back the entire way there, and hers to his arm the whole way back.

When they get back, they definitely don’t clear off half of his desk and bring her chair over so they can eat right next to each other; no, they sit on opposite sides of the room at their respective desks like normal people.

But if, say, they both just so happen to regularly need to use the bathroom at the same time, coincidentally meaning they end up spending less time apart, then that’s definitely just a coincidence.

‘Intimacy through codependency’, Dana Scully’s ass.

So, when Scully asks Mulder to come with her after work on Friday, it’s for completely practical reasons.

“Mulder? Are you okay? Your neck is red because you’ve been rubbing it so much.” Scully’s voice startles Mulder out of continuing that same motion.

“What? Yeah.” He smiles sheepishly, resting the offending hand on the desk. “I guess I’m just getting old, Scully. Sleeping on the couch this week has really done a number on my neck.”

Scully nods sympathetically. “Why haven’t you bought a new mattress yet?”

“They’re still redoing some of the floor in my room,” Mulder says.

Scully frowns. “You told me they finished that on Wednesday.”

“...I just haven’t had the time?” He tries, caught. Doesn’t say, it’s not worth buying one if you’re not in it.

She lets him off the hook. “Okay. We’ll go shopping after work today.” You deserve comfort, and I’m going to see that you have it. Then, with a gleam in her eye, “after all, an old man should take better care of his body.”

Mulder shakes his head, solemn. “You’ll know how it feels when you’re my age, Scully.”

Scully scoffs, Mulder smirking to himself before feigning a return to his paperwork. She waits until it seems that he’s actually focused on it, then pulls a paper clip out of a container in front of her and takes aim.

When it hits him square in the forehead, the look on his face is worth the war it starts.

“24/7 MATTRESSES!” offered the kind of vibe you’d expect from stopping at a non-descript fast food joint in the middle of nowhere at 3 AM; lighting just a little too bright, music that seemed familiar yet was impossible to place, and a single employee who seemed to appear out of nowhere from otherwise deserted floorspace.

Still, they offered incredible deals on queen-size mattresses, even offering complimentary pillows and same-day delivery and installation within a mile. And, luckily, Mulder’s apartment was only a few blocks away. So, hairs on the backs of both their necks up the whole time, Scully helped Mulder choose a nice memory foam mattress, then watched his back as he paid, and was at his side as they fast-walked to the exit.

If they’d turned back, they would’ve seen that the employee vanished as soon as the door shut behind them.

By the time they get to Mulder’s apartment just 10 minutes later, they find the mattress neatly set in his bedframe, pillows on top, even though his front door had been locked.

“...remind me to file that place under ‘liminal spaces’, Scully,” Mulder says with an uneasy laugh.

Scully nods absently. Mulder can see the gears working in her head. Eventually, she settles on, “sheets?”

Mulder fetches them from the linen cupboard, and they get to work. Together, they wrestle the fitted sheet onto the bed. Mulder tries to help with tucking the flat sheet, but Scully gets frustrated with his sloppy corners and shoos him away to find pillowcases.

He chuckles when he returns to find the sheet tucked with military corners - he loves how much of a perfectionist she is - but shuts up when he gets a pillow to the face. Tossing Scully the other pillowcase, he makes quick work of his own, then places it on the bed and collapses.

He buries his face into the mattress with an exaggerated moan. “Oh, Scully, this thing is amazing,” he says, muffled by the foam.

Scully drops her pillow next to him with a chuckle, resting a hand on his back lightly. “Should I leave you two alone?”

Mulder heaves a deep sigh, rolling over onto his back and resting his head on a pillow. “She could never feel the same way about me,” he says, tone wistful. “No,” he puts a hand over his heart, looking downtrodden, “I’m afraid it could never be requited.”

“A shame,” Scully agrees, stifling a smile.

Mulder cranes his head up, mouth open to make a joke, but all that comes out is a pained groan. He grabs his neck as his head falls back against the pillow.

“Oh, I forgot about your neck.” Scully’s brow creases as she leans down a bit. “You okay, Mulder?”

Mulder nods, eyes shut tight.

“Well, that’s convincing.”

A few seconds later Mulder peers up at her, smiling but obviously not feeling as good as he wants her to think. Scully makes a decision.

“Mulder, let me give you a massage,” she says. When he opens his mouth to object, she continues, “my mom always used to get terrible pains in her neck from sleeping on the couch on nights where we waited for Dad to come home. I was the only one in the house she trusted to get the knots out.”

Mulder rubs his neck, considering, then nods gingerly. “Thank you,” he says gratefully.

“Any time,” Scully responds, slipping off her shoes. “If you were feeling better, I’d ask you to move. But since you’re not, I’ll come to you.”

She climbs onto the bed, kneeling behind his head.

“I’m going to support your neck with one hand, slip the pillow out from under you with the other, then rest your head flat on the mattress, okay?” She explains.

Mulder hums in agreement, wincing only minimally as she moves him around. Then, she rests her hands on either side of his neck, fingertips touching his clavicles, and begins gently applying sweeping pressure from his neck down to his shoulders.

“I’d normally use massage lotion,” Scully says, teasing, “but I doubt you keep any around the house.”

“Mm-mm,” comes Mulder’s quiet confirmation, mouth quirking with half a smile.

When she’s finished, she notices that Mulder is completely limp in her hands, apparently asleep. She smiles softly, reaching to comb the hair away from his forehead. Letting her fingers brush through his hair, she takes stock of herself.

For the first time this week, she feels steady. And it doesn’t escape her notice that it’s while she’s holding Mulder, either.

She knows she should go now that he’s asleep. But those nightmares... even just the flashes she does remember after a week of having them - cradling him in her arms, desperately trying to keep his life from leaking out from between her fingers, pleading for him - have her reluctant to leave him. To sleep, even for just one night, with him in her arms, where she could know he was safe--

Mulder fidgets in her hands, and she looks down to find him blinking up at her. “Whatever it is, you’re thinking too hard,” he teases sleepily.

“Sorry,” she says, “I was trying not to wake you.”

Scully extricates her hand from his hair delicately, moving to get up, but he grasps her wrist. “Wait. Please stay.” His voice is soft. “That was the first time all week I haven’t had any nightmares.”

Scully frowns. “Nightmares, Mulder? I’m sorry. Old ones or new ones?”

They’re both intimately familiar with each other’s nightmares, and with how to soothe one another after them. Sometimes, part of the soothing process was to talk about them - especially if they were new.

“New, I think. I remember being in pain and hearing you sound worried and scared, but being unable to help when I tried... and then nothing.”

Scully frowns once more, starting to stroke his hair again. “How can I help?”

“Stay?” He requests softly.

“Of course,” Scully says. They’d both held each other after nightmares before.

Scully scoots down the bed, settling herself on a pillow and pulling Mulder to her. Absently, she thinks that she’s glad that they’d stopped by her place before the mattress store so she could change into casual clothes.

Mulder wraps his arms around her back, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck.

They breathe each other in for a while before he speaks again. “You’ve been having nightmares too,” he deduces, sounding like he’s come to a realization, “and that’s why you’ve been tired and just as clingy as me this week.”

Scully sucks in a breath, nodding.

“Old ones or new ones?”

“New,” she confesses. “But this is supposed to be me comforting you, not the other way around.”

“We can do mutual comforting,” Mulder assures her. “How can I help?”

She holds him tighter, feeling the rise and fall of his torso between her arms and the soft huff of his breath across her neck. It’s enough to know he’s safe, alive, and well. She squeezes him briefly. “This is enough.”

#first thing I've written in 2 months #feels good #I hope y'all enjoy!#msr #The X-Files #fic #hurt/comfort #nightmares #cuddling #monday

123 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter One

Summary: You live in Bogotá in the ‘90s, and work odd hours. No, you’re not a DEA agent, but a nurse. These odd hours prompt odd habits, like working out at 2:03 A.M. after a shift. Odd hours attract odd people, and you have a chance encounter with one DEA agent by the name of Javier Peña. Warnings: language, blood and violence (both graphic), descriptions of death and gun violence Chapter 1 W/C: 2.3K A/N: you guys! I am so in love with this fic. I already have quite a bit more written and can’t wait for you to read it! I hope you love it as much as I do! Javi deserves some softness... but not too much. this can’t all be fluff when you’re Javier Peña. Okay, this is not super canon-fitting of Narcos, I’m just gonna be honest with y’all. This is between the time of Escobar’s escape from La Catedral and his final capture and death, but also… Connie’s still in Colombia. Additionally, I don’t really have a year in mind, it’s just somewhere in that period. Please note that this is not a very lighthearted story- it begins with a death, though not of a significant character. Javier and reader both have some trauma, so please check the warnings of each chapter before you start reading. If you’re continuing on, I hope you like it! For the most part, if I use italics here when someone is speaking, it’s indicating that it’s in Spanish. I’m okay at the language, but I don’t want to butcher anything, so… just imagine it. Otherwise, it’s just the way anyone would use italics I guess.

next chapter

Chapter One

You watched a woman you didn’t know die in your arms tonight.

She was beautiful, all dressed up to go out and party, her makeup running down her face with tears. Her lips were the painted the color of the blood that trickled from the side of them, eyes glazing over as she coughed and coughed and ruined the beautiful dress she wore. The nurses had asked what happened, and she had told them, through gurgles of blood: she had slept with one of Escobar’s men. She got too close, learned too much, and they tracked her down.

She flatlined not long after telling the nurses around you. You had stood in the corner, paralyzed at first. You were an experienced ER nurse, nothing was new. You had seen patients die, but something about her was different. Maybe it was the way she reached out to you right before her body went limp. You didn’t make it to her bedside in time to calm her, the panic holding you down, but you finally took her hand right as she took her last breath.

After she passed, you threw up in the bathroom, shaking and clutching the toilet. The night air had grown unbearably hot and humid, causing your scrubs to cling to your skin, and the sweat from the heaving of your stomach didn’t make things easier on you. Lorena, a fellow nurse and your best friend at work, had found you and comforted you, rubbing your back and bringing you water. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t reverse what had happened.

Now, you sit on a bench in the staff’s locker room, redoing the ponytail holding your hair from your damp face. Your shift ended a few minutes ago, but you don’t know what to do now. You don’t feel like drinking; that would only make the visions swimming in your head worse. You know you can’t go home, can’t attempt to find sleep tonight. You look up and spot a bag with tennis shoes and spare clothing and settle your mind on at least one thing: the gym could do you some good. You change into the clothes and put the blood-spattered scrubs in the laundry pile.

As you leave, you give Lorena a little wave goodbye and exit the building. You’re hyper-aware of your surroundings tonight, and you groan as you look at your watch and notice that it’s precisely 2:09 A.M. here in Bogotá. The walk to your fitness club is short, but your step is slightly extra hurried and your hand is on your pepper spray the entire time, extra vigilant to the fact that a hit went down somewhere around here just a few hours earlier. Surprisingly enough, no one catcalls or bugs you tonight.

The little gym is run-down and dilapidated, and there’s no working air conditioning, but it’s the only one near you. You paid the small monthly membership fee to gain access, and you were going to use it to get in shape, you’d decided. As you swipe in and enter, the tiny fitness center looks more depressing in the fluorescent lights, no daylight to sugarcoat the atrocities of the center. There are two of every machine, a punching bag and a speed bag, two weightlifting racks, and a couple of benches.

It’s nice that you get to work out alone tonight, you tell yourself. Even better is the fact that you now get to control the music. Desperate for a taste of home, you flip the large boombox in the corner on and begin scanning the airwaves with the dial. There’s a station in town that plays American music, and you need it more than anything tonight. You listen carefully and nearly start sobbing again as you hear Billy Joel’s voice through the speakers. With a sigh of relief, you lock your bag in the rusty lockers in the corner and head to the treadmill. It’s a beat up old thing, but this is the one you always use. It provides a little bit of comfort tonight, the familiarity of it. You turn it on low and start walking. A few moments later, you up it to a jog, mouthing along to the words of the familiar song.

As the song ends, you push the buttons enough to enter a running speed. Your feet slam into the treadmill harder than normal tonight, feeling as overwhelmed as when you left the hospital. Your body finally works up a sweat, the physical stress overwhelming the mental stress.

As the events of tonight replay in your head to some other song from the late 80’s, your eyes start to water. Everything was so overwhelming, and your mind is just starting to process it. You finally allow the tears to fall, mixing with the sweat coating your cheeks. It’s hard to tell which is causing more of the mess, but you let yourself cry it out as you run for the next few minutes.

The next song that comes on is Venus by Bananarama. You almost chuckle at the fact that it’s a few years old by now, but the song is comforting. It reminds you of home, of a time before you had issues like these. You slow down the treadmill a little, singing to the words aloud once you catch your breath enough. Daring to do a little spin on the rolling surface, you groove along to the music, chuckling a little

After the first chorus, you hear a creaking noise and whip around to find a man standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You shout before you can stop yourself, hopping off the treadmill and onto the non-moving one before you get flung off. Your heart is pounding from the running, only intensifying the adrenaline rush from the scare.

The man chuckles a little, but the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s tired- of course he is, it’s now 2:30 in the morning. “Lo siento,” you offer in Spanish, cringing at yourself and your reaction just now. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late,” you stutter, still panting from the running. He shakes his head lightly. “You’re American,” he says simply. In English, in a beautifully American accented voice.

Your sweaty brow furrows, a glimmer of hope sparking inside your chest as you notice that he speaks like an American himself. “So are you.”

He nods at that. “That I am,” he says as he puts his things in a locker, snapping it shut behind him. He looks at you for a moment. You’re not working at the Embassy, or he’d know you. It was rare to find an American down here that wasn’t working for the government somehow. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking at how tired he appears in the big mirrored wall. He’s curious, but he’s exhausted.

You look at him for a moment. “You going to explain anything, like, tell me about yourself? Or do I have to go first?” You ask, hands on your waist as you hop back on the slowly moving treadmill, back into moving. He doesn’t respond. “Fine. I know you’re government. I’m not an idiot.”

He chuckles and tugs on his t-shirt, moving to the treadmill next to you and getting on. It’s been ages since you’ve held a conversation in English, and you missed this, missed how easily your first language flows from your mouth. “And you’re not.”

“Correct,” you nod, turning up the speed a little on the machine until you’re at a light jog. “My bigger concern was going to be why you’re here at 2-fucking-30, but I’m guessing I know the answer. You get called in around here for the hit?” He nods, starting the treadmill up and walking on it.

“You don’t have to be so guarded, Jesus. I fucking hate Escobar, I’m on your side,” you scoff before turning up the machine until you’re running once more.

Javier shrugs. “Makes sense. How did you know-”

“She died,” you say quickly and firmly, keeping your eyes straight ahead and looking at the room around you. “Add that to your file.”

He nods, understanding a little more now. You knew her somehow. He doesn’t say a word either, cranking up the machine and heading into a jog too.

A few more minutes pass of the two of you silently running next to each other, the American music still playing throughout the gym. It’s a comfort to Javier too. Tonight was shit for the DEA- they had known Escobar’s men would be around here. They had the intel, they had everything ready, but the men somehow had escaped and left a victim in their wake.

The frustration of everything, of the man being something close to home for you yet being a brick wall, threatens your eyes with welling tears again. “I just wanted to talk with an American,” you sigh and cross your arms, moving back into the walking stage of a treadmill.

The man next to you gives a similar sigh, stopping his treadmill completely and offering you a hand. “Javier Peña.” You take it reluctantly, feeling the sweat of both of your hands mix, and tell him your name before retracting it and stopping the treadmill too. “So, what brings you to the gym at 2:30?” He asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the center part of the treadmill.

“I’m a nurse. I work the graveyard shift. Bad night, a patient died because she got fucking shot for having a boyfriend and not knowing he was a narco, I need to get something out, I come here,” you shrug, unconsciously mimicking him by folding your arms as well.

He nods at that. “I’m here for the same. Shitty stakeout, I’m pissed off, I come here.” He leaves out the part about his favorite call girl being taken, and how he needed another way to get the rage inside of him out. He walks off of the treadmill and to the weight rack, pulling a bench beneath the bar.

You turn again and turn the machine back on, slowly jogging. “I see. Odd hours to be here, that’s why I asked,” you say simply. “And to see another American at such a time. I haven’t interacted with one since I came here.”

Javier nods, adjusting the weights on the bar. “Yeah. Weird,” he nods. “And that you’re an American who isn’t working for the government and you’re down here. What, you got a husband who works for us?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard for a moment. “No, don’t have a husband in the first place,” you admit, adjusting the ponytail holding your hair up. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” he shrugs as he gets on the bench beneath the rack, looking at you in the mirrored wall. Even with the sweat and the stress of working out, he notices that you’re gorgeous. You have a nice body, and even your face is pretty while you’re working out.

You shake your head. “Fine, if you really want to hear it.”

“Might as well. It’s that or more of this fucking Wham! music, and I’m sick of George Michael.”

“First of all, first person here gets the music, so mind your manners.” This finally earns a chuckle from the man, and you want to smile but it just can’t come. “I came down here with a man. He’s a citizen here. We were going to get married, but he left me. That was a couple of months ago now,” you admit, the tears beading in the corner of your eye again. “My work visa was still valid, and I renewed it so I can keep working at the hospital. I don’t really have anyone down here except the girls I work with, but I like helping out. They need me.” He nods a little as he listens, breaking his focus as he starts his reps with the bar.

“And you’re government, so that explains everything I need to know about you,” you continue to babble. “One of the girls I work with has a husband who’s at the Embassy. Murphy,” you say offhandedly.

Javier’s attention is caught, and he sets the bar on the rack. “Murphy?” He asks, and you turn your head to look at him and give him a nod. “No shit. That’s my partner.”

You chuckle slightly and look back at him, stopping the treadmill. “So you know Connie?”

Javi nods. “Yeah, great gal. She could do better than Steve,” he says, sitting up.

You laugh softly at that. “From what I’ve heard of him, I agree. She’s a really great girl, you’re right,” you nod in agreement, looking back at him. “She’s never mentioned you. She says her husband’s in janitorial, but we all know that’s not true. What, you guys CIA? DEA?”

Javier nods again. “DEA.”

“I see,” you say, folding your arms and leaning against the machine. “Can’t make you many friends around here. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut about being a gringa. They can usually tell though.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles and cracks his back.

You bite your lip as you look at him, your voice watery when you can finally speak again, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion again. “It’s nice to talk to someone in English again,” you admit with a forced smile.

He can read your eyes easily. You’re a nurse, and you told him that the victim died. You saw it. “It is,” he nods, reading your pain and trying to show you he empathizes with it. Your eyes are beautiful, he notices as he looks into them. So much more hope and trust than anyone else he works with, but the pain in them is unbearable. He looks away, leaning back on the bench to lift again.

“So where you from in the States?” You finally ask when the silence is too long.

“Laredo, Texas,” he chuckles. “Yourself?”

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pascalpanic #narcos #narcos fanfic #blood sweat and tears

322 notes · View notes

orangepeelsyndrome · 3 years

Text

karasuno boys in the morning

DAICHI SAWAMURA ;

wakes up at 6 every morning

steaming hot cup of coffee to get through the day--literally the hottest cup of coffee you've ever seen like hOW do you not burn yourself siR

possibly goes for a run? at least does some sit-ups and push-ups

breakfast is a MUST for this man

takes the train to school and hypes himself up on the way with good music

SUGAWARA KOSHI;

tries to be a morning person--i mean he wants to be SO badly but absolutely cannot get up earlier than 7

does the cutest little yawn + stretch when he finally gets up

will whisper good morning to his plants like the sweet bean he is

breakfast is light but nutritious

i feel like he drinks tea ? but he definitely has a pumpkin spice latte when fall comes around

brings a journal with him on the train to school (he wants to use it to write poetry or short stories but he never knows how to finish them bc he can't find the proper words)

ASAHI AZUMANE ;

jolts himself awake kinda like how you would when your body thinks you're falling

gets up extra early to make a smoothie or acai bowl or some shit

also needs the extra time to do his hair (he definitely messes with it a lot and re-does it until it looks perfect you cannot convince me otherwise)

also his skin care routine is ✨immaculate✨

NISHINOYA YU ;

this is the mf who sets his alarm at 4:30 to finish last nite's homework but sleeps through it. every. single. damn. day.

def scrambles around to get all his shit packed and ready for the day

rolls out of bed with perfect bed head (the smexy kind tho dw) :)

somehow has time to put together a good breakfast

TANAKA RYUNOSUKE ;

also gets up super early to do his homework (like maybe 6) but still manages to either get it completely wrong or doesn't finish

doesn't need coffee (wbk tho) but always steals some if his sister is making it

packs a shit ton of snacks to eat sneakily in class

somehow always forgets something dumb like an eraser or pencils

blasts music on his way to school that everyone can definitely hear (but they're all bops so no one really minds)

ENNOSHITA CHIKARA ;

sets his alarm for 7:00 but doesn't actually get out of bed until like 7:30

why do i feel like he's a morning shower kind of guy

tbh his go-to breakfast is toast but some days he'll spice it up and add some avocados

tbh has a basic morning routine but don't ever let him hear you say that he will get self-conscious (sweet baby boy we love youuu)

sometimes gets up earlier just to re-write his homework if he thinks his writing is messy (it literally never is tho)

KAGEYAMA TOBIO ;

usually will sleep in but now has the habit of getting up early just so he can get to school before hinata

breakfasts are a chaotic mess like he'll just grab whatever junk food he finds first

gotta get that milk tho

one of them boys who rolls out of bed with clear skin and amazing hair without even trying sjdbjfjd how

sometimes has to sprint back home half-way to school because he forgot his whole ass bag

HINATA SHOYO ;

baby crow isn't a morning person in the slightest but needs to beat kageyama so his alarm is literally set for 5 am

meat buns for breakfastttt

will tie his sister's shoes before he leaves and she pats his head afterwards bc they're adorable

hypes himself up in the mirror and when his sister catches him she helps hype him up in the mirror too

will always accidentally put on an item of clothing incorrectly and has to rush to redo it

doesn't have any coffee in the morning bc let's be honest it would ruin his two braincells

it's canon but we all know he speed bikes to school

TSUKISHIMA KEI ;

either gets up at 6 or 20 minutes before school starts

was probably trolling people the nite before and forget to sleep so the eye bags are extreme

no breakfast bc he doesn't have the energy in the morning to function

morning routine is short and simple but i hc that he spends extra long taking care of his teeth or that dental hygiene is weirdly super important for him idk

like the man MUST floss before he leaves for school otherwise all hell breaks loose

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI ;

angel baby is not a morning person sorry

like if it weren't for tsukki sending him wake up texts/calls he would def sleep until noon

and then when he wakes up after the fourth text he always, always calls him to apologize

loves breakfast (i can so see him having a pinterest board of breakfasts he wants to make) but legit never wakes up in time to execute

washes his face in the morning and has the softest towel to dry afterwards

bought a dinosaur toothbrush to impress tsukki (lowkey it did but he'll never admit it) that he uses regularly now

bonus:

SHIMIZU KIYOKO ;

a queeeen with a badass morning routine

wakes up at 5:30 and does yoga while the sun rises

breakfasts are so important and they always turn out amazing somehow (pls teach me your waysss)

puts a lot of effort into her skin and hair routine (but only to keep it healthy and moisturized)

sometimes if she has time i so see her trying out little accessories that look ADORABLE on her but she lowkey would feel self-conscious wearing to school (like noo wear a beret to school plss i beg you)

HITOKA YACHI ;

an angel but not really a morning person

definitely sleeps with a stuffed animal that a close friend gave her

her breakfasts are actually the cutest things you will ever see and they smell amazing

brings a book to read on the train to school because the thought of small talk is terrifying (same lol)

like kiyoko she will also experiment with accessories but quickly gets too shy to wear them out of the house (again imagine yachi with like a pastel headband or scarf plsss im soft)

has started using the scented hand cream she saw kiyoko use and now she's lowkey obsessed with it

55 notes · View notes

tommodirection · 3 years

Text

Five Minutes

Niall Horan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, jealousy

Word count: 1.5k

Masterlist:

A/N: Heylo! This was requested! I don’t know if they want me to say their username, so I won’t, but yeah! I hope you enjoy!

—

“No, Niall! This isn’t fucking okay!” You hissed, annoyed with your boyfriend of three years.

“I’m not going to fucking enjoy either! I don’t have any fucking control over this!” He said, raising his voice as he paced.

“Yes, you fucking do! You can call them, and tell them you aren’t going to do it!” You yelled back, slamming your hand on the table.

“And lose my fucking job? You’re being unreasonable!” He collapsed on the couch, grumbling in frustration.

“Unreasonable?” You questioned, scoffin, “I’m sorry if I’m pissed that this is the fifth PR relationship they’ve wanted you to be in since we started dating! Sorry if I’m sick and tired of having to watch you go around a kiss other girls for months at a time and pretend to be in love with them! I hate having to have you come home smelling like their perfume! So don’t fucking start with unreasonable!” You had snapped.

You had never gotten into an argument over his career, and you had never gotten into an argument where both of you had yelled. This was a first.

You were just tired. You had been in a relationship for three fucking years now. At first, you had agreed to keep it a secret, wanting to live out the honeymoon phase in peace, but the first year passed, and Niall still wanted to keep it a secret. Then two, and now three. It had made you feel as though he was ashamed of you.

His management had started having him start public relationships, trying to avoid suspicion of him seeing someone. The first two, you hadn’t minded, both being in the first year of you dating, but the other two pushed you closer to the edge, this one shoved you off.

His face softened at your confession, he looked as though he was about to speak, but your ringtone cut him off. You grabbed it out of your purse, swearing under your breath. It was your boss. You let it continue ringing, and she had texted you immediately after.

Joana: Need you to come in today. Gina called in sick.

You let out a huff, feeling Niall’s eyes on you. You pinched the bridge of your nose, composing yourself quickly. You were already dressed, planning on going out with Niall, but that crashed and burned. You slipped on your tennis shoes, not caring about the dress code at the moment.

“Work needs me,” you grumbled, grabbing your purse before rushing out the shared apartment door, not letting Niall say anything.

You sped walked to your car, slamming the door when you got in.

As you drove, the previous relationships Niall had to be in, crossed through your head. First was Florence Pugh, a darling girl, but her management required obsessive amounts of PDA. Then, a girl that Niall had known since they were young, something that bugged you just because of jealousy, it was your deadly sin. After her, was an ex of his, his management wanted to stir up drama. You had protested, but Niall talked you down as he explained why it was necessary, but she still was too touchy. You hadn’t meant to be that possessive and jealous, you definitely didn’t let Niall know about that. The last one hurt you the most though. She was a girl you had grown up with, a toxic friendship that ended after five years. Madison Beer. She didn’t want to be in the relationship as much as Niall did, she had a boyfriend as well, but she had the strongest perfume. Niall’s clothes smelled like her for weeks after the relationship ended.

The one they wanted him to be in was insane to you. It didn’t make any sense logically, although there isn’t much logic in the fame game. They wanted him to start dating Bella Hadid.

You supposed it had something to do with Zayn just having a baby with her sister, but she was a fucking model. You couldn’t compare to her. It was the final straw for you. That’s when you snapped.

As you pulled into your work’s parking garage, you pulled down your mirror, noticing you had started crying on the drive over.

You reached into your console, searching for your makeup wipes, but there was nothing. You swore and reached over to look in the glove compartment, same results.

You bit your lip, and began smacking your hands against the steering wheel, swearing the whole time. Just fucking great.

Taking a deep breath, you tried a grounding exercise your therapist had taught you years ago. Five things four things three things two things one thing. You completed the exercise and let out a shaky breath. You kicked your thumb and began furiously scrubbing at the mascara marks running down your face.

After deciding you looked presentable, you made your way to your desk, hoping to see Max, a friend of yours from work, she gave the best hugs.

You plopped down in your chair, logging into your computer to start on your work for the day. You only had a little bit, so you’d finish your stuff, and stay for the duration of Gina’s shift, then you’d be done.

As you computer loaded, you decided to go make yourself some coffee, try and get caffeine to boost your spirit.

You stepped into the lunch room, making your way over to the machine. You grabbed a mug and went to press the start button. But a bright yellow sticky note was glaring back at you. Out of order.

You let out a frustrated sigh, placing the mug back and storming back to your desk. You flipped through a few of your files, trying to immerse yourself in work, but Niall kept popping up in your head. You had never seen him that angry. You had done that.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Joana slapped a large stack of files on your desk. Easily three times the size of your pile. “Thanks for coming in, Gina has some work she was going to catch up on today, but she’s sick, so you’re going to have to do it for her,” she walked off before you even got to protest. You let out a low groan, dragging the files over to you.

This day couldn’t have been going worse.

Kendra, the bitch who sat next to you, informed you that Max wasn’t here today, she had taken the day off. On top of that, your computer crashed and you had to redo six of your files.

You finished about three hours later than expected. You got stuck in traffic on the way back, frustrating you even more, almost to the point of crying.

The second you parked, you rushed into the building, a tear slipping past when the elevator took too long. You don’t know what had gotten into you, you normally weren’t this emotional.

You finally found your way into the apartment, stopping in your tracks when you saw Niall standing several feet in front of you, looking like he was about to speak.

“Niall, I’ve just had the shittiest day of my life, so can we please just put the fight on hold for five fucking minutes? Just so my boyfriend can hold me?” You asked, your voice cracking at the end.

Niall opened his arms, and you collapsed into him, clutching onto his shoulders with everything in you. He picked you up and brought you to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap. You buried your head in his neck, tears falling down your face and onto his shirt.

“I told them no,” he whispered.

You pulled away, furrowing your eyebrows, “What?” You asked, sniffling as he placed his hand on your waist.

“I told my management no, I wasn’t going to do another PR stunt. I even told them I was going to go public with my actual girlfriend,” he said softly.

You placed your hands on both sides of his face, “Niall, you didn’t have to…” you began.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist. “Yes, I did. My girlfriend was upset, and frustrated, and it was all because of me. I wasn’t about to have that. I care more about you than them,” he said, bringing your hand to his face and placing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

You pressed a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you, so much,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too, more than you’ll ever know,” he whispered, and you processed what he had said earlier.

“Did you say you wanted to go public? With us?” You asked gently, and he nodded.

“Course, I want the world to know that I’m in love with the most beautiful woman in the world,” he reached into his breast pocket, fumbling for a bit before pulling out a ring. “I have the perfect way to let them know too.”

You gasped, placing your hand over your mouth, “Niall…” you breathed out, looking between him and the ring. He looked at you expectantly, biting his lip lightly.

“So?” He asked.

“Of course! Of course Niall!” You exclaimed and he chuckled, placing the ring on your finger. You admired it for a moment, turning to look at your fiancé. You kissed him again, pulling away and giving him a hug.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“I can’t either.”

(If you want to be added just send in an ask!) Permanent Taglist: @everything-is-alrightt @kaiaduke @franchesca-791

#niall horan x you #niall horan x y/n #niall horan x reader #niall james horan #niall horan #solo niall #niall 1d #one direction x reader #one direction

228 notes · View notes

thefinalcinderella · 3 years

Text

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 6 - The Sound of a Shouting Soul (Part 3)

Wanted to get this out a lot sooner but life got in the way

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. So there’s like rankings for how much someone can hold their drink. Waku (which includes all of Chikusei-sou) are people who don’t get drunk no matter how much they drink. Zaru are people who only get a little bit drunk after drinking. Geko are people who can’t drink at all.

Previous | Next

They had to completely get rid of their summer fatigue and they had to rest their bodies gradually before the meet; they trained a lot during the fall, but they didn’t run as much as they did during the training camp. Even so, as expected, even Kakeru began to feel both physically and mentally tired.

It was from the pressure of thinking “What if we do all this and it doesn’t go well on the day of the meet and it ends up being all for nothing?”

Unlike the previous meets, the qualifiers were a one-round competition with no redos; if you didn’t get the time you wanted, you couldn’t just bet on the next one, and that tension weighed heavily on Kakeru’s mind and body.

The training regimen had become denser. Twenty kilometers was the norm for cross-country, and build-ups were introduced into track practice. For instance, if you ran seven thousand meters, you ran the first thousand meters at a pace of less than three minutes and ten seconds, and then worked your way up to two minutes and fifty seconds at the end.

As they ran long distances faster and faster, the pain was not negligible. The inability to breathe during the endurance runs and the violent palpitations of the heart after running as fast as you can assailed you at the same time. It was like playing water polo while drowning, and Prince and the others threw up many times. However, every time Kiyose would caution, “Endure as much as you can.”

“You’ll get into the habit of throwing up. Hold it in and run.”

“I can’t do it.”

“I’ll choke on my own vomit.”

Prince collapsed onto the grass next to the track, and the twins, who were trying to look after him, also threw up with him. It was a miserable situation.

However, sandwiching the proper amount of rest needed between training sessions, the residents of Chikusei-sou gradually became able to keep up with the build-ups and the twenty kilometer cross-country runs. They went to the Showa Memorial Park in Tachikawa, where the qualifiers would take place, and everyone did a trial run of the course.

One day, less than half a month before the qualifiers, Kiyose gathered everyone after they had finished a cross-country run. A chilly wind blew through the open field in the approaching sunset. The tips of the grass had lost their vigor, and there was no trace of summer left. The fruit on the swaying persimmon trees, which no one was picking, were the same color as the setting sun.

“It’s a battle of concentration from now until the qualifiers,” Kiyose said. “Focus and control yourselves so that you’ll be at your peak both physically and mentally on the day.”

“Well that’s easy to say.” Nico-chan sighed. The stress from the tension was giving him an unusually large appetite these days and he was having a hard time regulating himself.

“I feel like my delicate heart has already reached its peak.” King couldn’t help but get stomach cramps during training. “I wonder if I can last until the qualifiers.”

“Don’t be afraid.” Kiyose’s tone was calm, reassuring everyone. “You’ve all done more than enough training; all that’s left to do is use that pressure to hone yourselves. Envision yourself as a beautiful blade running in the qualifiers, and sharpen and polish it well.”

“What a poetic expression,” Yuki said.

“But I get it,” Prince said. “You don’t want to sharpen it too much or you’ll snap before the qualifiers, but if you keep it too dull, it will be useless if the blade still seems cloudy on the day of the competition. It’s something like that, right?”

“Exactly,” Kiyose nodded. “You can’t get there just by recklessly practicing; it’s a battle within yourself. I want you to listen closely to your mind and body, and sharpen yourselves carefully.”

I see, Kakeru thought. This might be one of the strengths that’s required for long-distance.

Long-distance didn’t require explosive power nor was it something that required extreme concentration during a competition to perform a technique—all you did was send forth your legs alternately and plainly moved forward. All you had to do was sustain the simple act of “running”, which most people had experienced, for a set distance. The stamina needed to sustain that was cultivated during daily training.

In spite of that, Kakeru had seen runners whose health broke down during or right before a competition many times: they ran well at first, but suddenly their pace was thrown into disorder; their bodies were in good shape, but three days before the race, their times during practice suddenly stalled; there were those that caught colds even though they were very careful, and ended up getting taken off the lineup on the day of the competition.

Kakeru couldn’t help but feel confused. Practice makes perfect. Why did people ruin themselves when all they had to do was run? Kakeru himself had gotten diarrhea at the last Inter-High he participated in. He hadn’t eaten anything cold or rotten, but his stomach suddenly took a bad turn. He was still able to run, so there were no problems, but he kept wondering, “Of all days, why did I get a stomach ache right before the race?”

He understood now. It was described as a “failure to adjust”. The reason for almost all of them was pressure; the anxiety of suddenly wondering “Is this enough?” no matter how much you trained; the fearful thought of “What if I still lose?” arising as soon as you were confident that it was enough. The more you sharpened your body and mind, the more fragile you became; you got colds and stomach pains more easily, like a precision instrument that breaks down abruptly from just a little bit of dust.

Honing yourself until you were sharp and smooth enough to overcome fear and anxiety and withstand any dust—that power was probably one aspect of the “strength” Kiyose talked about.

Kakeru understood all that, but there was still the question of whether or not he could put it into practice. The more serious you were about running, the less easily you were able to free yourself from pre-competition nerves, and confronting your own body and mind was a very lonely process. You always had to fight alone in the space between compromise and excess.

Kakeru eventually stopped thinking about everything. The more he thought about it, the more fear would arise, because he could only imagine bad things.

People were afraid of ghosts because they thought about and imagined them. Kakeru hated those sorts of ambiguous, vague things; he didn’t want to be bothered by the irritating dullness of “If I think it exists, it exists”, he wanted clarification on whether it was “there” or “not”. Just like being able to move forward if you simply moved your legs, one foot in front of the other.

Kakeru ran without thinking anything. He threw himself into training and repeated the act of “running” as he remembered it with his body. He didn’t know any other way to overcome pressure.

The other members of Chikusei-sou, unlike Kakeru, were inexperienced, so they hadn’t yet established a way to relieve tension. Some, like Kakeru, practiced harder and harder, some burned incense and slept, and some reread sports manga from beginning to end. Everyone was working hard to make their final adjustments for the qualifiers.

With two days to go before the qualifiers, Kakeru felt that his concentration was improving at a good pace.

Practice that day was light, as they shouldn’t be tired on the day of the competition. Of course, each person did their morning and evening jogs, but there was no real practice scheduled on the day before the qualifiers either. They had done everything they had to do, all that was left was relaxing their bodies while keeping an eye on their health while raising their fighting spirits and concentration.

“Let’s do one last finishing touch.”

At Jouji’s suggestion, everyone at Chikusei-sou decided to have a small drinking party two days before the qualifiers. For this group, drinking was the easiest way to relieve tension and solidify their bonds.

The landlord was invited as well, because he was more or less their coach, but there was a problem: the landlord had entrusted Kiyose with the money to fix the hole, but Kiyose had given that money to Shindou to put aside for the Hakone Ekiden; with the transportation and lodging costs, they never had enough money.

As the landlord stepped over the threshold of the front door, Jouta crossed in front of him while looking at the gravure page of a magazine. Distracted by the photo of a woman in a bathing suit, he took off his shoes without looking up at the ceiling and kept close to Jouta as they went upstairs. The tactic was a success. Kakeru and Jouji, watching the situation from the kitchen, gave each other a small high-five.

It was arranged for Prince to sit on top of the hole. You must not stand up as long as the landlord is here, not even if there’s an earthquake or you have to go to the bathroom. Given that strict order by Kiyose and Shindou, Prince obediently hid the hole while reading manga.

“Now, we would like a few words from our coach,” Kiyose said when the liquor was flowing well. The landlord, hugging a large bottle, got up unsteadily. Wondering if he might see him act like a coach for the first time, Kakeru looked forward to what he was going to say.

“It’s finally time for the qualifiers…let me tell you the secret to winning,” the landlord solemnly stated in his hoarse voice. “Move your left and right legs one after the other and go forward!”

The room fell completely silent. The landlord seemed to have sensed the overflowing disappointment and despair.

“…You do that, and you’ll reach your goal one day. That’s all!”

“’That’s all’?!” King roughly put down his cup.

“Is this person okay?” Yuki said.

“Can’t we get a coach who’s a little bit better?” Nico-chan said.

“Ah, my motivation has completely gone down now,” Jouta said.

Quiet unsatisfied voices filled the room. Kakeru hurriedly turned to Kiyose.

“Haiji-san, from the beginning, you believed that this team could definitely make it to Hakone. I thought it was more than impossible, but…why were you so confident?’

“Mm?” Kiyose looked up from his cup and smiled. “Because everyone can handle their liquor.”

“What?”

Everyone immediately stopped complaining about the landlord and now turned to look at Kiyose.

“There are many long-distance runners who can drink a lot. I guess it’s thanks to their internal metabolism. You guys have surpassed being heavy drinkers, you’re bottomless pits, aren’t you? (1) I’ve been observing your drinking habits for a long time and I thought, ‘This could work.’”

“There are plenty of heavy drinkers in the world.”

Shindou looked up at the sky as though to say “I can’t believe this.”

“You dragged people into this thing for that reason!?” Yuki’s voice cracked with anger. Kakeru groaned. He had wanted Kiyose to get everyone motivated again, but it had had the opposite effect.

“Did we really come all this way based only on how much we drink?” Prince, shocked, was about to get up, but Shindou restrained him with his eyes and he hurriedly sat back down. “That’s like building a skyscraper on top of mud with just willpower.”

“Of course that’s not the only reason,” Kiyose said, but his articulation was a bit odd. “I noticed the spark of talent that had been sleeping in all of you.”

“Haiji-san’s drunk,” Kakeru sighed.

“Aaah, isn’t there anything livelier to talk about?” King fell onto the tatami, looking up.

“By the way, how are things with Hanako-san?” Musa asked the twins.

“Hana-chan?”

“What do you mean by things? We get along well?”

The twins both answered innocently.

They don’t know. These guys really don’t know at all. Everyone else muttered to each other.

“By the way, you guys don’t have girlfriends, right?” Nico-chan, who had been nibbling on a piece of dried squid since earlier, said as though it had just occurred to him. “If you do, you’ll have to get them to cheer for us the day after tomorrow.”

It was rare to hear such a topic discussed at Chikusei-sou. Part of it was because their living spaces were so close, they were careful not to deliberately step into each other’s private lives, but it was also because they would all somehow know even without being told expressly.

However, for almost half a year, all of them had been busy training and weren’t able to keep track of each other’s love lives at all. Of course, no one had ever brought their girlfriend to their room before—their conversations and anything else could be overheard, after all.

The twins said, “We’re recruiting one!” in unison. If you’re recruiting, then you should be aware of the existence of applicants, Kakeru thought. King silently curled his back.

“What about you?” Yuki asked Nico-chan.

“I don’t have that kind of energy left right now,” Nico-chan scratched his stubbled chin.

“Same here,” Shindou hung his head. “I’ve been going all around negotiating with the supporters’ association and the school, so I’m afraid that she’ll run out of patience with me soon.”

“You’re dating someone?” Kakeru was surprised. He couldn’t quite connect the reserved and honest Shindou with the brilliance of love.

“Shindou-san has been in a relationship with a woman since he started school,” Musa explained. “It is hopeless for me. I cannot find anyone who will come to my hometown.”

You don’t have to suddenly go all the way there… Kakeru thought.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend, Kakeru?” Musa asked. Kakeru shook his head.

“I’m not popular, after all.”

“It does not seem that way, though.”

“Um, what about you, Prince-san?” He hurriedly shifted targets, but Prince’s eyes were still on his manga.

“I’m only interested in 2-D girls.”

Even though he was born with an idol-like face, it was like pearls before swine. Prince glanced at Kiyose.

“Leaving that aside, I sometimes hear rumors about Haiji-san in the literature department, you know? He looks like that, but there’s all kinds of…Ow!”

Crying out in pain slightly, Prince shut his mouth. A peanut flicked by Kiyose had hit him right between the eyebrows. There was no one brave enough to press Kiyose more than that.

Kiyose laughed slightly and asked, “What about Yuki?”

“I’ve got prospects, a good personality and my looks aren’t bad? Of course I have one,” Yuki answered calmly. King curled himself up more and more.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” As the landlord was pouring shochu into his teacup right to the brim, a phone rang. It was Yuki’s. Excuse me, Yuki said and left the room.

“What, was that his girlfriend again?” Nico-chan said. Kakeru also noticed that Yuki’s phone had been ringing a lot these days.

“But Yuki has been looking somewhat somber recently, has he not?” Musa tilted his head in worry.

King seemed to have decided to drown his sorrows in alcohol. “There’s no ice,” he said, shaking the empty bowl. Kakeru, who was near the door, stood up and said, “I’ll go get some.”

He went downstairs and saw that the entrance’s sliding door was open, and that Yuki was outside on the phone. He could hear his voice slightly. It seemed like he was arguing about something, and although Kakeru was curious, he crept into the kitchen, concealing his footsteps so that he wouldn’t disturb him.

He transferred the ice into the bowl and refilled the fridge’s ice maker with water. Judging by the way everyone was drinking, it might not be ready in time. Kakeru turned the fridge’s temperature knob to “strong” and left the kitchen with the bowl.

The front door was still open. But there was no sound of talking. After some hesitation, Kakeru put on his sandals and peeked outside.

Yuki was squatting next to the door, looking up at the night sky.

“I made ice,” Kakeru called out to him softly. “Let’s go back and keep drinking with everyone.”

“‘Kay,” Yuki answered, but he made no attempt to stand up. He looked absentminded, his left hand gripping his phone.

“Did you get some kind of bad news?” Kakeru stepped over the threshold and squatted down next to Yuki while holding the bowl.

“No,” Yuki said. “My parents saw the news story and nagged me about showing up back home once in a while.”

“Where do you live?”

“Tokyo.”

If that’s the case, then it wouldn’t take much time to go back home, and there’s no need for him to lodge in a rundown apartment like Chikusei-sou in the first place. That reminds me, Yuki-senpai said he didn’t go back home for New Year’s, Kakeru recalled, and sensed that there were some circumstances behind it.

Insects were buzzing loudly in the grass of the yard.

“Kakeru, why aren’t you excited about getting interviewed?” Yuki asked.

“Umm,” Kakeru said. “I’m resented a lot. I think my parents and the guys from my high school team probably don’t want to see my face, so that’s why: I want to be as inconspicuous as possible.”

“You’ve been through a lot, I see. I thought you were just a track maniac,” Yuki’s words were biting, but he didn’t pry any deeper.

“Thanks to being a track maniac, I ended up having to keep secretly running away from interviews,” Kakeru laughed.

Noise suddenly erupted from the twins’ room. There were sounds of people running around and shouting something.

“What’s going on?” Kakeru and Yuki looked overhead and stood up.

The window facing the yard opened. “Yuki! Are you there!” Kiyose shouted.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Call an ambulance!” Kiyose recognized Kakeru and Yuki and waved his arms to hurry them. “The landlord’s throwing up blood!”

Kiyose got on the ambulance and accompanied the landlord to the hospital, and then finally returned to Chikusei-sou some time after the next day had already started.

The early to bed and early to rise routine was so ingrained in everyone that they couldn’t keep their eyes open, but they were all worried about the landlord’s condition, so they had stayed up and waited. Kiyose, surrounded by the residents at the entrance, gloomily told them the news with a tired expression.

“He’s got a stomach ulcer, so he’ll stay in hospital for a week. Apparently the reason is stress from extreme nervousness.”

“Stress!?” Jouji shouted hysterically. “Why was he stressed?”

“He was a carefree coach with no sense of responsibility though?” Jouta tilted his head. He definitely just drank too much, Kakeru thought.

“I also have a lot of questions about the reason, but…the landlord was probably worrying about us in his own way,” Kiyose rubbed his temple. “For that reason, the day after tomorrow—or rather, tomorrow—we will do the qualifiers without the coach there.”

“I don’t really mind, though.”

“It’s not like he’s ever there.”

The twins stated their candid thoughts, and Kakeru nodded.

“Didn’t you say we can count on him when we need it?” Kakeru muttered.

“I said ‘probably,’” Kiyose responded, and as though to say “good grief,” took off the hoodie he had on.

Previous | Next

#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

51 notes · View notes

nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

Text

Casualty of Timing

a/n: This is a prequel to “You Look Good in My Shirt”. In that fic, I wrote the make up, but I didn’t give much context for the break up since I didn’t want it to be the focus.

So while I was thinking about how that felt a bit incomplete to me, Die from a Broken Heart by Maddie and Tae popped up in my playlist and gave me this little scene. And then I had an incredibly stressful day at work, which gave me the fuel for the emotions behind this. It can be read by itself, but I’ll link to the make up at the bottom again cause... reasons. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to post this and to @livrever for giving it a read through!

Read on Ao3

Marinette gaped at the spread of food Luka had prepared for her as she walked in the door—complete with candles and flowers and a tablecloth—and worried for a moment she’d forgotten a big event. Anniversary? No. It wasn’t her birthday. It wasn’t his birthday.

“What’s all this?” she finally asked.

Luka shrugged and grinned as he uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured out two generous glasses. “I thought we could spend a little time together tonight, if that’s okay?”

“Luka, I would love to,” she said, her voice full of true regret. “But I told Adrien I’d meet him at the studio in fifteen minutes.”

He finished his pour, set the bottle and glasses back down, then paused to look at her. She still had her coat on and her keys in her hands. “You just got home,” he said. “You’re already leaving again?”

She shrugged her coat off and hung it next to his leather jacket. “This collection is demanding a lot of my time. I told you I wouldn’t be around much until after the show.”

“You did tell me that. But you also told me you’d be home tonight.”

“And then one of the gowns I’ve been working on for weeks trailed into a bucket of dye today and it’ll take all the time I have left just to fix it.” She didn’t mean to sound so annoyed. It wasn’t directed at Luka; more at her own oversight and the tediousness of having to redo the work. “Adrien offered to help me tonight so we could get back on track.”

If she hadn’t known him better, she would’ve missed the split second that his jaw tensed before he forced himself to relax. Forced his expression into something neutral and blank. She hated it when he did that. He always felt like he didn’t need to burden her with what he was feeling. But it always created a fight until she’d pulled it out of him.

“What?” she asked.

“What do you mean ‘what?’”

“You’re mad at something.”

“I’m not mad.” He smiled as if to prove his point, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He blew out the candles before he lifted the steaming plates of food and moved towards the kitchen. She followed him warily.

“Luka will you just tell me? I don’t have time to play the guessing game tonight.”

He lifted an annoyed eyebrow at that, but still said nothing as he set the plates down and turned away for a container.

“Fine. I’m gonna go change before I meet Adrien. I’ll talk to you about it later?” She braced herself on his elbow as she reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. Again, she noticed the way his jaw clenched under her lips, and the way he didn’t lean into her touch like he normally did. She sighed as she pulled away and tugged her phone out of her pocket, setting her keys down as she did.

“I thought you were heading out,” he said as he tipped the meal he’d made into the container. Her plate, she assumed, due to the slightly bigger portion of roasted vegetables that he knew were her favorite. He’d made all her favorites, it seemed. It smelled amazing.

Her stomach grumbled at the thought of the missed meal and she eyed the container Luka had scraped everything into. There was a microwave at the studio, but if she hurried maybe it would still be hot and she could eat it there. She tapped out her text quickly and set her phone down on the counter to look up at Luka again.

“I’m letting Adrien know there’s something you want to talk about and I’ll head out after.”

“Marinette.” He stopped in his movements and leveled her with a look. “Go. Seriously. There’s nothing we need to talk about that can’t wait until after you meet Adrien.”

The bitter way he said Adrien’s name pricked against her ear.

“Is that what this is about?”

He blew out a breath. “This is nothing. I’m not annoyed, I’m not mad, I’m fine. You don’t have to be late for anything on my account.” He snapped the lid on the first container and started on the second.

“You are annoyed, though. You think I don’t know you well enough by now to tell?”

He opened his mouth, shut it, and clenched his jaw again before he took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. She reached out to tap the toe of her shoe gently against his.

“Please tell me?”

His eyes flashed at her before he sighed and finished putting his own portion away. She waited as patiently as she dared for him to gather his thoughts. As soon as the food was safely put away in the fridge, he turned to face her again and she was surprised at how dark his eyes had gotten. Stormy. It wasn’t like him.

“It feels like you’re running away from me,” he said finally, quietly. “I never see you anymore, just a quick hello and goodbye in the mornings, and you come home late at night after I’m asleep. After I’m asleep, Marinette, which is quite a feat. What could you possibly be doing out that late?”

“I’m at work with—”

“Adrien. I know.”

If the first time he’d said Adrien’s name was bitter, this time it was positively acrid.

“Are you…?” No. He wasn’t. She shouldn’t even say it. But it was her only guess for why he was acting like this. “Are you jealous?”

“No, I’m not—” his voice cracked as he tensed and he ran a hand through his hair before he took another calming breath. “I’m not jealous of Adrien,” he said carefully, emphasizing each word as if he were explaining to a child. “But you are spending a lot of time with him lately. You’re practically living at that studio.”

“I told you, it’s my work. I lose track of time, I get absorbed. You should know all about that. You lock yourself in that room for days at a time sometimes.” She gestured to said room. The second bedroom that she’d hoped would someday be a nursery, taken over by guitars and a tornado of ripped sheet music and a drumset and there was a keyboard in there now? She didn’t even know he played keyboard, let alone needed one.

“I do get that—”

“And that’s another thing. You’re accusing me of never being home? When you’re the one out all the time at odd hours, sometimes here, sometimes there, I never know where you are, when you'll be back. At least you know right where you can find me.”

“So I have to come find you to spend time with you, is that it?”

“That’s not—” Marinette huffed impatiently. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, you’re just as absorbed in your work as I am. In your music. If I didn’t make an effort to come see you play, I’m not sure I’d ever see you either.”

“An effort?” He snorted and brushed past her back to the table to continue cleaning up. “An effort,” he repeated. “Do you mean the one show you’ve made it to in the past two months? That’s your effort?”

“What do you want from me? To drop everything I’m working on to listen to you play covers all night long? You’ve been working on one original song since I’ve known you and—”

“And it’s still not right yet!” At the same time he snapped at her, his hand tightened around the bowl of the wine glass he had picked up and it shattered. He jumped away from the mess on instinct. Marinette grabbed the kitchen towel and moved towards him to clean him up and check his hand, but he recoiled away from her.

“Luka, your hands…” She tried again to come closer.

“Does it matter? It’s not like my music will ever amount to anything. So why bother?” His sarcasm was venomous and she flinched away from him. As if to prove his point, he clenched his fists, wincing as a splinter of glass cut deeper into his palm.

She sighed and knelt to dab at the spill on the floor instead. “That’s not what I said and you know it.”

“You’re right. You were saying you don’t have time for me anymore.”

She stopped and looked up at him. At his clenched fists and narrowed eyes and tense posture. She dropped the towel and stood, slowly, to face him again. “Luka, what is this about?”

After an intense pause between them, he sighed and dug in his pocket to produce a little velvet box and tossed it over to her. She caught it, and when she fumbled it open to find a small cushion cut diamond set in a delicate gold band, her hand flew up to cover her mouth. When she looked back up at him, he hadn’t moved. He was still tense, those stormy eyes watching her reaction. This must’ve been why he’d been out at gigs more often lately. Who knew how long it had taken him to scrape together his tips to buy this as well as keep his part of the bills paid.

He’d had a plan tonight. To propose to her. And she’d picked a fight with him.

He scoffed and ran his injured hand through his hair before he brushed past her again. Back to the bedroom where he kept his instruments. She expected him to lock himself inside, but he came back a moment later with his acoustic strapped to his back. He glanced back at her once, then grabbed his jacket and yanked the door open.

She was frozen. She wanted to tell him to stay. She wanted to tell him she loved him and they could work it out. But in that last glance she could see how long he’d kept this to himself. She could see his struggle, the weight on him. She was never home. Off with Adrien, focused on her work. He was never home. Off trying to make a name for himself, trying to build a life for them. They never saw each other. Tonight was proof enough of that.

So she watched as he paused on the doorstep. She watched as he looked back at her with all the hurt written so plainly across his face, along with regret. And she watched as he shook his head and turned away to pull the door closed after himself.

She didn’t know how long she stood there after he left, staring at the closed door, holding the little box containing what was supposed to be her engagement ring.

When her body finally released itself from its paralysis, she wiped away tears she hadn’t realized had been streaming down her face. Numbly, she set the box on the table and knelt to resume dabbing at the splotch of red wine on the carpet. But no matter how she tried, it wouldn’t come up. It had set in. She kept rubbing at it, her tears starting to flow again, her body convinced that if she could fix this. If she could get this stain out. If she could undo the damage that had been done. He’d come back.

Her rubbing became more vigorous, frantic, as the stain stayed put and even started feathering along the edges; she wasn’t fixing anything, just spreading it around, making it worse. With a strangled yell, she threw the towel to the other side of the room where it made a wet splat against the wall and slid down, streaking the wall pink as it went. Something felt like it drained out of her. Hope, maybe. She sank back down to her knees to sob into her hands.

She heard her phone buzzing insistently on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. It made her pause and wipe at her eyes. The salt from her tears hit the small cuts on her hands from the glass shards that were still scattered across the spot where Luka had been standing.

Her phone stopped buzzing.

In a daze, she grabbed the other glass of wine on the table. Her hands shook as she tried to raise it to her lips, and her sobs started wracking through her again. He left. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back. The words ripped through her, growing in intensity until it was all she could hear. All she could feel.

He wasn’t coming back.

An animalistic shriek tore out of her chest as she hurled the full wine glass at the closed door. It burst on impact. The shards scattered as the wine ran down the door.

“Fine! Leave!” Her voice cracked as she half-screamed, half-sobbed.

Her phone started buzzing again and she marched over to pick it up. “What? What do you want?” She yelled at whoever was on the other end. She didn’t really care who it was.

“Sweetie?” Her mom’s voice. It reached something down deep inside Marinette. Something about home and comfort and safety. “Are you okay? I got a text from Luka. He said I should check on you? What’s going on?”

“Maman…” Her brief flash of anger melted. Became what it really was. Deep, agonizing pain. A shard of glass lodged deep in her heart, splitting her in two. She looked around at the apartment, at the remnants of her life with him. All she was left with. A stained carpet, a stained wall, a stained door. Shattered glass everywhere, twinkling innocently in the light. A diamond ring still in its box on the table. She sobbed again and leaned down on the counter to cover her hot, tear-stained cheeks. “Luka… he… he left.” Her voice broke on the last word. “How could he just leave?”

There was a pause on her mom’s end as she let Marinette cry. For her part, Marinette slid down the kitchen counter to sit on the hard, cold kitchen tile and hide her face in her knees. Her phone buzzed in her hand with an answering text from Adrien, but she didn’t care to check it. How was she supposed to go back to work tonight?

After a few minutes, her mom started humming. A gentle, soft tune that Marinette remembered from kneading bread beside her dad for all those years. From being sick at home, her mom brushing her hair back from her forehead to check her temperature. It calmed the tide of tears, just as it was meant to. Home. She sniffed and wiped her face and took a deep breath before she stood back up on shaky knees.

The sight of the destruction she’d caused made her choke up again, but she was able to hold herself together. She should finish cleaning up. She should meet Adrien like she’d said. She should soldier on and get her work done. The show had to go on. But she couldn’t come back here. Not tonight. Not for a while. She drifted over to the table and closed the ring box with a soft snap.

“Maman, do you think I could come and stay a few days?” she asked quietly. Her mom agreed, and Marinette heard her start to call out to her dad. “No, no, don’t tell Papa,” she rushed to say. “At least, not everything. Not yet.” She bit her lip as tears threatened again.

She didn’t want to hear the thundering threats to Luka’s safety. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want him hurt any more than he already was. Must be. He hadn’t left her easily, she knew that much. He’d wanted to make it work. He’d wanted to marry her. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes one more time before she tucked her hair behind her ears and considered her next steps.

“Hey, Maman? How would you go about getting a red wine stain off a wall?”

***

A few days later, Luka went back for the rest of his things. He wasn't entirely surprised to find the apartment exactly as he'd left it. Complete with the wine stain on the carpet, although she'd attempted to clean it, and the little velvet box sitting on the table. He steeled himself and walked past it.

It took him several trips to get the instruments packed into the back of Ivan's van and two more for his clothing and the few decorations he'd brought with him from the Liberty. Marinette didn't come back the entire time. Although he didn't know what he would've said or done if she had come back.

Some small part of him had hoped to see the apartment in pieces. To see her upset, distraught, missing him. But it was a small part and easily quashed. He didn't want Marinette to be upset. Not really. He'd done enough damage.

As he packed the last box away, he turned to look back at the closed door. He dug her key from out of his wallet and clutched it in his hand before going up the steps one last time to tuck it under the mat.

He touched his fingertips to the door before he leaned down to press his forehead against it. A part of him had broken off in this apartment and would never leave.

The ring he'd left on the table. As far as he was concerned, he'd bought it for her and it would always be hers.

***

Backstage after Marinette's show, Adrien caught her up in a hug and kissed her cheek before he pulled away. Her heart flew straight to Luka. Adrien caught her eyes and held both of her hands in his.

"Call him," he said gently. "I know he'd want to congratulate you."

She shook her head, barely holding back tears. "I can't," she managed to say. "I just can't."

Of course that lasted until about two hours and four cocktails into the after-party. Marinette was feeling pleasantly numb, except her fingertips were buzzing. She blinked back tears as she dialed his number. She'd deleted his contact information in a moment of anger, but she still had it memorized.

It went to voicemail after the second ring. He'd seen it was her, then. She hiccuped right as his message started up. It was so achingly familiar she almost broke down again. But she took a deep breath as his message ended and dove in.

"Hi, it's me. Uh, Marinette, although you… probably already knew that." She let out an embarrassed chuckle. "The show was tonight. It went great. There's a fashion house in… uh… London, I think, that made me an offer and it's this amazing opportunity and…" Her breath hitched and she paused. She wanted to tell him she missed him. She wanted to tell him how much she'd wanted to share this with him. She wiped at her cheeks and forced a bright smile on her face instead. "Anyways, I just wanted you to know. Okay. Bye."

She hung up and thunked her phone against her forehead before turning to get back inside.

***

The day after Marinette called him, Luka gave in and listened to the message with a small smile. Of course the show went well. He'd never had a doubt. And London. London would be amazing for her.

It was the pause after she told him about London, though. The small catch of breath. She'd been crying, although she wouldn’t want him to know that.

His finger hovered over her contact picture. From a better time. He was in the frame, too, and she was smiling as she kissed his cheek. He was laughing at her. She'd insisted on a selfie with him and surprised him at the last second. He couldn't bring himself to delete the picture.

He glanced up and Juleka was watching him from across the table with raised eyebrows. He drummed his fingers against the table, dispelling his nervous energy, before he typed up a text message to her.

L: happy for you. london’s awesome

He waved the screen at Juleka before he tucked his phone away in his back pocket. She didn't say anything, but her teasing was minimal and Luka knew she was worried.

His phone buzzed with her response sometime during the night, but he ignored it after another warning glance from Juleka. She was right. It was a bad idea. He shouldn't be contacting Marinette. It was still too fresh, too new for both of them. He was only making it harder on them both.

But when he checked it alone in his old bed that night, he didn't think contacting her would be much of a problem for much longer.

M: Thanks, starting there on Monday, leaving tomorrow.

He sighed. It was for the best, then. That it happened when it did. She could go to London. She could follow her dreams without having to worry about him. He wasn't holding her back anymore.

L: what time? i'll be there

***

Marinette stared in disbelief at the message that was most definitely on her screen. Most definitely on her conversation with Luka. Most definitely about seeing him again.

Her throat went dry. Everything in her head was screaming bad idea. Everything in her heart was screaming his name. She glanced at the velvet box on her bedside table. He hadn't taken it with him when he cleared out the rest of his stuff. She hadn't known what to do with it.

Out of curiosity, she pulled the ring out of its box and slipped it onto her left hand ring finger. It fit perfectly. The delicate band suited her small, slender hand. The diamond was beautifully clear and sparkled every time it caught the barest hint of light. Not that it mattered. Coming to see her off wasn't the same at all as repeating his offer. Not repeating, she reminded herself. She hadn't let him in the first place.

Her thumbs hovered over her screen and did an uncertain dance as she considered how to respond. The light from her table lamp glinted off the diamond and solidified her resolve. She typed in where he could meet her and what time, shut her phone off for the night, and turned to fold her pillow around her head. It didn't help muffle her spiral of anxiety, or the building hope in her chest.

***

Luka arrived late, entirely on purpose. The plan was—he chuckled at the thought. Plans were her thing. She'd be proud. They never seemed to work out for him. Anyway, the plan was he'd stand back, wait until she was just about to get on the plane. Wave. And that'd be it.

Of course it couldn't be that simple. Her mom and dad had come to see her off, too. And Adrien, who was going with her. He was talking animatedly to Tom, his blond hair shining in the sunlight.

But as Luka squinted against the glimmer that kept chasing across his face he realized it wasn't Adrien's hair causing it. It was Marinette's hand. Her right hand, where his ring was nestled on her ring finger.

She caught his eye as she talked and paused, gesturing with her head for him to come over. He glanced at her dad, then at Adrien, and felt his lips getting thinner as he pressed them together. He shook his head.

Her smile slipped, but she nodded at him and jumped back into the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Adrien glanced over once. Their eyes met. It wasn't what Luka had expected to see. He wasn't smug, or triumphant, or even happy, really. He nodded at Luka solemnly, but without condemnation. An understanding that Luka hadn't dreamed to think of from him. When Luka broke eye contact and ran a hand through his hair, Adrien didn't look back over again.

Marinette made some excuse and tripped on her way over to him. He moved to catch her, but she caught herself and straightened up with the barest hint of a blush tingeing her cheeks.

"I hope you don't mind," she said quietly, pointing to her hand. "No one knows, and I figured…"

"No, yeah." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. "It's yours. Do whatever you want with it."

"Oh." She blinked at him, as if she hadn't expected him to say that, and he saw a small crack start to break through her façade. "Um… okay, good. That's good."

There was a pause between them. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to ignore the way she smelled like warm sugar. The way he wanted to pull her close and breathe her in. She was getting on a plane, he reminded himself. They weren't together anymore and she was leaving for London. Everything was going the way it was meant to. Stay in the moment.

Except she reached out to brace herself against his elbow like she always did right before she leaned in to kiss his cheek. His jaw tensed before he could help it and she hesitated, her lips a mere inch away from his skin, her breath fanning through the short hair by his ear. He locked eyes with her and everything stopped.

The call for her flight echoed over the loudspeakers and he breathed a sigh of—not relief, not exactly, but maybe release. He steadied her before he stepped away. His fingers squeezed her arm lightly before he could stop them, reassuring her.

But his movement away from her seemed to confirm something for her. Her brave face crumpled for a split second and he saw her as she was. Scared, hurt. Angry, even. Tears threatened in her gorgeous blue eyes before she blinked and hid them from him again.

She looked down and fiddled with the ring on her right hand. After a moment of thought—or hesitation, he couldn’t tell—she wiggled it off. She took his hand and placed the ring in the center of his palm and closed his fingers around it. When she looked up at him again, there was no façade, no brave face, nothing she was hiding. Just a resolute, calm agreement between the two of them. It was for the best. She covered his hand with hers and gave him a small smile.

“Goodbye, Luka,” she murmured, her voice full of fondness and certainty.

He reached up to cup her cheek and wipe a tear away with his thumb before it snuck down her cheek. “Goodbye, Marinette. And good luck.”

She nodded and pulled away from him, sniffling as she still tried to hold back the tide of tears. He knew as soon as she was alone she’d let herself crumble. He glanced back up at Adrien and caught his eye. They had another moment of shared understanding as Luka silently asked him to take care of her and he nodded back to agree he would. As Marinette rejoined the group, Adrien put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to him before shouldering her bag and ushering her into the line to get on the plane.

She turned back once. Right before she stepped on. Her tears were finally flowing freely down her face and she raised a hand to wave back at him. At her mom and dad, too, he knew, and at the city she loved. He waved back and she flashed him a determined smile through her tears as she turned back around.

She’d be okay.

He turned to walk away before Tom or Sabine got the chance to come over and talk to him. Not that he wouldn’t if they had really wanted to, but he also couldn’t. Especially not Tom. He’d become like a father over the years—Luka had hoped they would be family sooner rather than later—and Luka couldn’t bear hearing him express his judgment, or worse, his disappointment.

He clutched the ring in his hand until the contours of the diamond impressed themselves into his palm. It was for the best. It was meant to be this way. Stay in the moment. Count each breath.

All of his grounding techniques, all of his meditation practice, all of his hard work to master his emotions, led up to this moment so he could walk away from the life he’d wanted with his head held high.

He made it back to the Liberty, although he wasn’t entirely sure how. He uncurled his fingers and the ring had nestled itself into his skin. He took another deep breath and released everything. Every painful splinter of glass that still coursed through his blood made his heart shudder until he could barely breathe.

Juleka found him on his knees, curled over the last remnant of Marinette he had left, his eyes hidden behind his hand as he wept. He knew it was Juleka instead of his mother because she didn't say anything. She didn’t grab his arm and haul him up. She didn’t tell him to move on, or remind him that she thought it was a bad idea to see her again. She crouched behind him, wrapped her arms tightly around his shaking shoulders, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Finally, gradually, he came to. He nodded to let Juleka know he was okay. She could let go. She did, and he braced himself against her to stand up again on unsteady knees.

The ring glinted back at him in the fading sunlight. He glanced at Juleka and offered it to her silently. She and Rose were due. It would be most practical to hand it off, save her the expense. But she just raised an eyebrow at him and gestured with her head to the river before she patted his shoulder again and walked away.

He looked down at the tiny gold band in his hand one more time before he peered into the dark waters of the Seine lapping against the boat. He reached out and tipped his hand slowly, waiting for the moment the ring would slip off his palm. But he’d been holding it so tightly for so long, it was glued to him. He hesitated. Maybe he should hang onto it. Maybe one day—

And with that thought, he resolutely turned his hand completely over. The ring succumbed to gravity and he didn’t even hear a splash as it slipped beneath the water.

He couldn’t carry her around with him anymore.

It was over.

a/n: This can be read by itself, but there is a make up fic that’s already written and takes place three years later.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb fic #ml fic #lukanette #angst #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine

22 notes · View notes

imaginesmai · 5 years

Text

Sebastian Stan- Wired Autocomplete Interview

Requested by anon. I know this is not exactly what you asked for, but since I saw your request I had this idea, I’m sorry! I couldn’t really write it any other way... I hope you like it! Besides, it wouldn’t be my blog with a tiny bit of angst.

Plot: fans watching your interview with Sebastian are going to get more than what they bargained for.

“Hello! This is Y/N Y/L/N, from Capitan America: Winter Soldier”

“And this is Sebastian Stan, doing the wired autocomplete interview!”

The bright white light that was in front of you was turned off, and you heard someone from behind the cameras to cut for a few minutes. The introduction was done, and they wanted to make sure it looked good before going on with the main part of the interview. Whispers started filling the room and you dropped the happy fake smiled you had on your face.

Sebastian’s arm, that had been sprawled on the backrest of your chair, fell down, and he moved a few inches to his left. Your stylist gave you thumbs up from the other side of the room, signalling that he didn’t need to redo your hair or make up. So you got stuck those five minutes before the interview with the person who you didn’t want to talk.

Your happy and cheerful attitude had already disappeared, and you decided that your shoes were the most interesting thing in that room. More interesting than your boyfriend, who was sat beside you and didn’t have the courage to look at you in the eye. Not after that the previous night argument.

“Hey, um, h-hi Y/N”

You looked up to see a teenage girl with big helmets on, her hair up in a small ponytail. She was wearing the identification of the interview, so you guessed she was part of the crew. Smiling sweetly at her, you nodded.

“So, uh, could we take a picture?” she asked, fingers playing with cords of the headphones. “Or not! I don’t want to invade you, I-I know this is not exactly professional but, I’m such a big-“

“Of course!” you interrupted her rambling and got up. For the occasion, you had chosen a beautiful blue dress with white flowers, and you were glad you did. Because your other option was the old pyjamas bottoms and torn t-shirt from your best friend.

“That’s-That’s so cool” she giggled, taking her phone out of her pocket. “Thank you so much, this-this is the best day of my life.”

“Don’t worry” you said, smiling at her. “Maybe we could ask my manager to take the photo”

“I’ll do it”

You turned on your heels to see Sebastian with a tight smile, offering a hand to the girl. He got to his feet too, and took a few steps backwards to take a good photo. It was the first time you really looked at him since last night, and he looked awful. Tired eyes, bags under them and chopped lips. He seemed more like a homeless man than a famous actor. All of it because the stupid argument.

You had had it before. Actually, you had had the same arguments since the second month of your relationship, and you had been dating for two years already. Neither of you liked to argue about it, but you couldn’t reach an ending point. While you said it was time to make public your relationship, he was against it. Bad publicity for you, too much stress, the press being too pushy or not being ready for it. You had heard all type of excuses by then, and none of them convinced you that what you had with Sebastian had to stay hidden.

The flash hitting your eyes made you blink in surprise, and Sebastian lowered the phone with a small smile on his face. He looked at the photo for a few seconds, and then gave the phone to the girl. She melted in ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re so cool’s before leaving giggling and jumping a little.

Back in your seat, you folded your hands in your lap and fidgeting with the ring. As if he was testing the water, his hand itched closer to you. It was his fingers moving a little; up and down, as if he was tapping in a table, only that each time they moved closer to your leg. You were almost touching, so in a few seconds, his hand was resting on your knee, and you took that as a peace offering. Sure, you would have to talk about it later, but for the interview it was alright.

You put one of your hands on top of his, feeling how they were much colder than yours. On the contrary of what people used to think, his hands were as cold as ice. You put your fingers in between his, and he had to swallow down a smile. For the first time since he met you, he didn’t care about people watching you linking hands. Last night he had been too close to lose you.

“We start in five!”

Some people started running behind the cameras, trying to get everything under control so that the interview could start. The girl who had asked for the photo had the white tabloids in her hands, ready to be handed out to you.

“Five!”

You squeezed his hand one last time and gifted him with a small smile, letting him know that it would be alright.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sebastian’s laugh filled the room when the next question was revealed; what does he uses on his hair? Your face as you read the question changed from happiness and joy to complete horror. You looked at him with wide eyes, wondering why someone would wake up and ask themselves what does he do with his hair. Joking for a few minutes about how his hair should be something protected at all cost, you continued with the next question.

If you were being honest, you were having a good time. Interviews usually got boring after the third in a row, since all of them asked the same. You liked doing them, though, but that one was being your favourite so far. And Sebastian, without a doubt, your favourite partner.

“What… God, why are this things so difficult to peel off?” you whined, trying to get a grip on the white cover.

“To answer the question, is Y/N Y/L/N a diva? Yes, she is. She needs someone to peel off this things because she doesn’t want to mess up her nails” Sebastian teased, looking straight into the camera, and you slapped his shoulder playfully.

“I can’t stand you”

“You love me”

Yeah, you loved him. You wanted nothing more to than to kiss him right there, and to stop the gossiping about him dating fans who he took photos with or his cousin that came to visit once a year. You forced the thoughts out of your head, not wanting to be seen annoyed or disappointed in the interview.

“Finally” you chuckled, when the paper came off. “What was Sebastian’s first film?”

“Oh, God” he closed his eyes and a faint blush covered his cheeks. Sebastian laughed and looked at you briefly. “You know it?”

“What? It was some teenager shameful comedy?”

“No, I-“ he cut himself before saying the name of the film, and you looked at you with raised brows. “You know it! I told you the last time we were playing Mario Kart!”

A few laughs were heard from the crew behind the camera, but you didn’t mind them. Playing Mario Kart with Sebastian could end in two ways. First one, each one of you in either side of the couch with scowls in your face and aggressively sneaking glances. The other one, video game long forgotten in TV and you riding him in the couch. You rarely payed attention to what he talked about.

Blinking confused, you tried to remember what his first film could had been.

“That-That one with the witches, and so?”

“W-What? What witches?” Sebastian laughed, not bothering to hide the way he was starting at your thoughtful face. You scrunched your nose and resisted the urge to nip at your finger.

“You know, that one where you’re the bad guy. With, with spells and black eyes and those things. There is also, like, a scene with a pool? That’s the only thing I remember, you were shirtless.”

“The Covenant?” Sebastian asked, as if he was not entirely sure what you were talking about. It was common of you to gush ramble about his ‘shirtless scenes’, saying that they were worthy of an Oscar. “I can’t believe you actually said witches.”

“What? I thought you were one! All black, mean.”

“I’m, I’m gonna ignore that” he turned his face towards the camera, his smile not disappearing. “Actually, that was the second. First one was Tony and Tina’s wedding. Small role, nothing important.”

“Nothing that you do is small” you looked at the camera with a small scowl. “He’s the diva”

Two questions later and you had finished his third panel. Sebastian had moved slowly from his seat and had wrapped his arm around your shoulder once more. His arm was touching your back, nothing that the camera could see, but enough to set you in a comfortable state where could set the anxiety and nervousness of being in an interview aside.

His head was in a slightly lower position than yours, and while you waited for your third panel, he propped it on your shoulder and left a quick kiss there. Even though there wasn’t skin, showing, you stuttered with what you were saying and almost dropped the car to the ground. Giving him a pointed look, you placed the panel your lap, and waited for him to start peeling the white papers.

As the rest of them, the first ones was innocent. That type were covered completely asking mostly about your whereabout in that moment. If your best friend lived with you, your next projects and how many pets you had had.

“Alright, next one” Sebastian said, bending forwards to rip the cover. He was, by then, resting his head on your shoulder, and the blush was permanent in your cheeks.

“I’ve seen grandpas faster than you”

“Whatever you say, kid”

The age different was not much. Only a few years, but enough reason to tease each other endlessly. Something changed on Sebastian’s face, as if he had just remembered an important fact. Quickly, he recovered and threw the paper to the side.

“How to seduce Y/N Y/L/N?” Sebastian frowned as soon as the words left his lips. “What kind of freak as that? Who still use ‘seduce’?”

You let out an awkward laugh at the question, uncrossing and crossing your legs. Your fingers tapped on the white board as Sebastian kept talking.

“And-how many people ask this to become trending?”

“Seb, maybe you should-“

“Here is a tip for that”

A small sigh left your lips, knowing that he would say something sassy. Sebastian was not the jealous one; you had to admit you were a little bit more jealous of him. He trusted you and knew you could handle yourself, that you were loyal to him. Still, there were special occasion, like that one, where he didn’t like that fans thought you were available and tried so hard to get you. Then, Sebastian would come up with a sassy comment, making everyone go wide eyed and leave the topic, him looking just like a protective friend.

Certainly, you didn’t expect his next words.

“Just find another one, cause she’s actually taken. And I don’t like sharing.”

The remark that you were going to make died in your tongue, and you looked at Sebastian surprised. Behind the camera, they didn’t hide their shock; they whispered, giggled and you swore you heard someone curse. But you were too busy looking at Sebastian with a open mouth, that he quickly sealed with a small kiss.

His lips closed around you and, after being hit by a sudden wave of cockiness, he even bit your lower one while he tore away. The only laugh that was heard came from you stylist, who you had tired out too many times with talks about Sebastian and your hidden relationship.

“Yeah, so” Sebastian said, his face still close to you. “Y/N Y/N/L can’t be seduced because she’s already with me”

He turned back to his seat and, with a sweet and innocent smile, told the camera that ‘that was all’, saying goodbye for the both of you, since you were too busy staring at him with wide eyes and shaky smile.

That’s how you seduce Y/N Y/L/N.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

#imaginemai #request #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan one shot #winter soldier #ca:ws #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier one shot #winter soldier x reader #wired autocomplete interview #wired autocomplete interview imagine #one shot #marvel #avengers

2K notes · View notes

lils-of-the-valley · 3 years

Text

Summer Time (Family) Madness

What’s up! I finally wrote something and didn’t post it at 1 am! That doesn’t mean I proofread it though (RIP I'm so tired I posted it to the wrong blog so I had to redo it)

First | < Previous | Chapter 8 | Next >

AO3

Apologizing to Emily was a lot harder than Langa had anticipated. He knew he could be stubborn, but Emily was worse. She did everything in her power to avoid him: locking herself in Nanako’s room as soon as he left his, turning away from him if she had the misfortune of being in the living room when he got back from work or the skatepark, eating at a different time from Langa and his mother. No matter what Langa tried, she refused to acknowledge him. He didn’t exist anymore to her.

And Langa had tried reaching out to her, both physically and metaphorically. He had tried grabbing her arm, forcing her to acknowledge him, but he was just shaken off the same way he had shaken her off three days prior. He had tried being gentler, calling her name the few times he did see her leave the room to get food, but he had been ignored. Langa had even tried texting her an apology, but the text had never been opened, the little checkmark never appearing next to his text. Emily was rightfully pissed, Langa understood that, but after 72 hours, he was starting to get annoyed again. She could have at least given him a chance! It had been three days, for crying out loud!

“Seem familiar?” Nanako asked over her cup of tea. Langa didn’t miss the amused smile on his mother’s face or the way her brown eyes were staring straight through him. Recently, she was really starting to pick up on whatever Langa was feeling, which he wasn’t sure if he was grateful for or absolutely mortified about.

“I-!” Langa bit the inside of his cheek as he pushed his pancake around his plate. “Okay, fair.”

“Look, I talked to Emily this morning. She’s still pretty mad at you for snapping at her and refusing to tell her why, but she seems ready to talk about it. It wasn’t my place to explain your actions, but I did encourage her to give you a chance to apologize. Which,” Langa shrunk in his seat the way his mother was looking at him, “I really shouldn’t have had to do, Langa. You’re an adult now; you shouldn’t need to have your mother fixing your problems anymore.” Nanako sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she took a long sip of her tea. “But, here we are. I don’t even want to imagine the chaos that would have been if your father and I had decided to give you a little brother or sister. I don’t think I would have survived those fights if I’m struggling with just you and your cousin.”

Langa had asked a few times for a baby brother or sister when he had been younger. He had been in kindergarten and watching the children arrive with siblings made him envy them. The closest thing he had to a sibling was Emily, and he only say her during the summer. But those kids, they had a friend all year long. And they didn’t have to meet anyone new because siblings were family and family wasn’t scary. Not like all the kids whose faces were starting to blur together.

As he got older, he grew to be content with being an only child. He didn’t have to share at home. Everything at home was his: his toys, his parents, his room. As he grew older, he heard the other kids complain about their siblings, how they were hogging the tv or finished the last of the cereal without telling anyone. So Langa was happy with being alone. It was perhaps selfish of him, but he was glad he just had to deal with another kid just during the summer. Playing with Emily in the summer was more than enough.

But as he got older, Langa also wondered what it would have been like to have a real sibling, someone constantly buzzing around him. Would they have snowboarded with him? Would they have looked up at him? Would they have played with him? Would they have fought a lot? And would Langa have been a good brother, like Reki was? Would he have been able to help his sibling with their homework or their daily problems? Would he have been able to give and give and give so much like Reki did? Would have been as kind as Reki when-

Langa shook his head, shaking away the thought of Reki. He had to stop thinking of Reki all the damn time.

“Maybe it would have been better if I had a sibling. Maybe I would actually know how to say sorry?”

A light chuckle shook the teacup his mother was holding to her lips. “Maybe. But it’s never too late to start learning! I really think you should go see Emily. Oh! And bring her breakfast while you’re at it! It’ll be bonus points for you!”

Langa gave his mother a curt nod before moving to the kitchen counter to prepare a plate of pancakes for Emily. If there was one thing Langa knew, it was that food always cheers people up. Food was a universal peace offering that no one could refuse. Nobody could refuse a good plate of fluffy pancakes drowned in maple syrup. Or at least, Langa wouldn’t have been able to refuse. Hopefully, Emily wouldn’t refuse.

The confidence that Langa had built up lasted a grand total of three minutes, just enough time to assemble the plate and make his way to his mother’s room. Everything had been clear in his head: he would knock and apologize to Emily, offering him the pancakes. It was a simple plan, but when it came time to execute it, Langa froze. The words jumbled in his head and his hands refused to cooperate. He had to knock. Form a fist, lightly tap the door, that was all. Yet it felt like the most difficult thing to do. His fingers only tightened around the plate, not wanting to let go of it.

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? If, a big if, Emily opened the door after he finally fessed up the courage to knock, then he would have to say something. He’d have to say sorry. He would have to say sorry, but for what? For being cold and distant and…. Like himself? No. That was making excuses. It was a bad habit of his, apologizing and making excuses for himself. Like when he had that big fight with Reki- No! He was not thinking of Reki. He was thinking of Emily and how he was going to say sorry for shouting at her. He was thinking of Emily and how he was going to apologize for being inconsiderate and too in his own head to realize that he was hurting her and straight-up selfish. He was going to apologize instead of ignoring the situation until it went away.

With a deep breath, Langa raised his first. One knock. Silence. Two knocks. Movement in the room. Three knocks. The door creaking open.

Emily stood in the doorway, staring up at Langa, her eyes devoid of their usual warmth. Her eyes flickered between his face and the plate he was holding up for her, a peace offering. There was no sign of cheeriness in her face, only a deep frown. She was small, but she seemed so big. Small, but intimidating.

Langa shifted from foot to foot, pushing the plate into her hands. “It’s, it’s for you. Mom made it. Thought you’d like some.”

Finally! Finally, she took the plate, though she didn’t seem any closer to wanting to listen to Langa. But she didn’t turn away. She just stood there in the doorway, plate in hand.

“And I- I just…” Langa inhaled sharply. He could do this. He could fix this. “I’m sorry.”

It was stupid. It was so stupid. He felt like a little kid on the playground, small and childish, sent off to apologize for breaking the other kid’s plastic shovel. He felt like a child who had no clue how to apologize. Sorry. I’m sorry. It was all he knew how to say. He didn’t know how to truly, properly apologize. He had never cared enough about people to feel the need to say more than just sorry.

“Did your mom send you to apologize or is this really from you?”

“Me! I’m sorry, I mean it.” Langa did mean it, but Emily didn’t seem completely convinced yet. “I… shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Alright, alright,” she shifted her weight onto one foot, leaning into the doorframe, “don’t need to overuse it. I know we’re known for constantly apologizing, but you know damn well that that’s just a stereotype. You don’t actually have to say sorry every other word.”

“But I feel like I should.”

Emily sighed. “Alright. Don’t overdo it either. But,” she glanced towards the kitchen behind Langa, right where Nanako was sitting, sipping her tea and finishing her breakfast, “can we talk in your room? Like, don’t get me wrong, I love Auntie Nanako, but it’s just… feels weird doing this in front of her. Like we’re back at the grandparents and we have to apologize for breaking whatever before going home and the parents want to make sure we’ve properly apologized? Yeah, it’s… it’s really weird. No offense to your mom or anything.”

“I get it, no worries. Reki’s the same way.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on her lips. “You really never stop thinking of him, do you?”

“I-!” He didn’t. He had to stop, but somehow Reki always found his way back into Langa’s head. “He’s my best friend. And the only one of my friends who’s come over. So it’s just, it’s a coincidence.”

“Uh-huh, sure, sure.” Emily brushed past Langa, making her way to his room with her breakfast. “You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

“I’m serious!” Langa huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and refusing to acknowledge the heat forming in his cheeks as he followed his cousin. “You know, for someone who’s pissed at me, you sure are in a good mood.”

“Oh.” Emily stopped in front of his closed-door before turning to him with a grin. “I stopped being mad at you like two days ago.”

Two days ago. That was impossible. Just last night she was leaving the kitchen as soon as Langa was coming in, kicking his shoes off. Just last night she was locking herself in his mother’s room, refusing to even look at him. It was impossible that she wasn’t still mad at him. It didn’t make sense.

“Yeah, I’m just really petty.”

It was the way she was saying it, just shrugging as she pushed the door open. It was how nonchalant she was about it, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You…” Langa sighed. Reasoning was impossible. “You made me suffer for three days, brushing me off, refusing to eat at the same time as me, basically telling me to go fuck myself for… for what reason?”

“You were insufferable for three days, so it was only fair that I made you suffer the same amount.”

“You,” Langa said with a huff and entering his room right behind his cousin, “are impossible.”

“Thanks!”

As Emily got comfortable on the floor, her back pressed against the closet door as she got ready to eat, Langa let his whole body flop onto his bed. It had gone better than he had anticipated, but it had still been exhausting. The spiraling insecurities always took a lot out of him. But as soon as his body sank into his mattress, his face hitting his pillow, everything melted away. Everything felt better, the weight of his mistakes lifted from his shoulders. And the sound of Emily struggling to cut her pancakes with her fork reminded him that things would be okay. He hadn’t broken everything important to him.

Langa shifted on his bed, folding his arms and tucking them under his chin as he looked over at Emily.

“I’m serious though. I am sorry about being insufferable and all. Just…”

“It’s fine, really. Apology accepted, Langa. Just,” Emily stopped picking at her plate, her brown eyes falling onto Langa instead, “can I finally know why you were acting all shitty and whatever?”

Why had he acted the way he did? The answer was terribly obvious, but it was also stupid. Terribly stupid.

“Reki?”

Silence emptied the room completely. Emile blinked at Langa, a forkful of pancakes hanging between her mouth and her plate as she gapped at him. It was stupid. So stupid. Langa should have lied. He should have found another reason. Now he seemed stupid because he was and this whole situation was stupid because of Langa’s stupid heart that was constantly beating in his chest at a speed that was probably alarming and-

“You…” Emily inhaled sharply, putting her plate and fork down onto her lap and brought her hands together to her mouth. Then her hands were pointed in Langa’s direction and he sank into his pillow. “You were an asshole to me for three days because of your boyfriend?”

Heat raced through his body as Langa jolted up. “He’s not-!”

“Fine! Your ‘best friend’ or whatever you wanna call it! What- What the actual fuck, Langa?”

“I don’t know! I don’t…”

Langa shouldn’t have been laughing. He should have been serious, trying to explain his mess. But Emily was laughing, her hands in her face as she wiped away tears, and it was hard to not laugh with her. Maybe she had also realized that everything was ridiculous. Maybe she had finally realized that Langa was absolutely ridiculous.

“I don’t know, Emmy. I really- It made sense, or maybe it never really did?”

“No, it does not make any sense. You do not make any sense, you twig!”

“I just… I was mad, okay? I don’t know who I was mad at – probably myself most of all – but it was just easier to take it out on you since, since, you know, you kinda, I mean, if you hadn’t come to DopeSketch then maybe?”

“You were pissed at me because your not-boyfriend suggested teaching me how to skate? You… what the fuck?”

Langa dropped back into his pillow, resisting the urge to scream. It sounded so much worse when said like that. It sounded so much worse when talking about it. If only he could disappear forever and avoid the absolute humiliation of having Emily half-screaming at him, half-laughing at him. It was worse than… than anything, really. Langa was ready to dig his own hole to hide in.

He peered over his pillow, not ready to let go of it quite yet. It was a rather effective shield.

“Yes? I mean… It’s not the skating part that bothered me. It’s the-”

“Part where it sounded like he was asking me out?”

Langa chewed on the inside of his cheek, nodding hesitantly into his pillow. He was aware that he was acting like a child who was caught doing something wrong. He was aware that he looked stupid and foolish. He was aware that he was supposed to be able to handle himself just a little better than that, but what was he to do? The pillow was the only thing keeping him safe.

“Langa! You useless-!”

Langa almost missed Emily pinching the bridge of her nose, looking more exasperated than he had ever seen her.

“You… Look, first off, he wasn’t asking me out. And second of all, if you had stuck around an extra 20 seconds, you would have known I turned him down.”

Emily had turned Reki down. She had refused him. What kind of monster refuses anything from Reki?

“What? Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you turn him down?”

Emily clicked her tongue as she stared up at the ceiling. “Well, it’s pretty simple, really. Your ‘friend’ there,” Langa cringed at the air quotes, “really did sound like he was asking me out, which apparently actually wasn’t his intention. But even if it had been his intention, he’s basically a kid. He’s not even 18, is he?”

“Next week.”

“So he’s not even 18, which is… weird? I don’t know, even if he was 18, it would still be weird for me. Not that was the main point of this. The most important part of this,” Emily straightened out, leaning closer to Langa, “I know you like him. Hell, I think everyone knows that you’re basically head over heels for him.”

“Everyone but him,” Langa mumbled into his pillow, completely defeated. There was no point in moving out of the fluff.

“I… I don’t think you’re giving the kid enough credit, Langa. I don’t think he’s as dense as you paint him to be.”

“Oh great. Yay for me. I get to fuck up yet another friendship.”

“I… also don’t think you’re messing up your friendship.” Langa could hear Emily shuffle on her side of the room, the fork clanking against the ceramic plate. She was probably starting to feel sore from the hardwood floor. “Look, I don’t know shit. The only news I’ve gotten of you in the past three years has been from your mom talking to grandma who would then tell my mom. And from the time I’ve been here, well, I’m just your dumb, airhead cousin. My opinion isn’t worth shit, but it kinda looks like it might be reciprocated?”

Langa propped up onto his elbows, huffing as he stared at Emily. “It’s not. And all you’re achieving right now is giving me false hope.”

“No! That’s not-! I didn’t mean… I was talking to Reki, after you stormed off like a big baby.”

“Gee, thanks. False hope and making fun of me.”

“And like, I was telling him that I was flattered and all, but that I had to turn down his offer since, you know, I’m heading back home in a couple of weeks. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone to try something with an expiration date and he doesn’t seem to be the type to just wanna hook up or whatever.”

Langa buried his face in his pillow again, hands over his ears. “I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t-”

“I didn’t say that to him, you twig! Now listen to me! I don’t wanna talk about sex with you, anyway!”

Langa’s face was flushed and panicked as he lifted it from his pillow for what felt like the thousandth time in a very little amount of time. His voice was high-pitched, only accentuating his horror. “I don’t wanna talk about sex with anyone! Especially not- No!”

“Aw, it’s okay, little baby Langa. I won’t disgust you with that. But I will tell you that Reki is so cute when he’s flustered. Like, he’s adorable, isn’t he?”

“I… will not answer that.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smile stretching across her face.

“Right. I forgot, you probably find him cute even when he’s passed out cold, snoring and drooling into his pillow.” Langa stayed quiet, chewing at his lip. “But yeah, turns out that it was just genuine desire to get me to try something new that would keep me busy? He was so embarrassed at the whole miscommunication thing and thinking he was asking me out. But so very cute. Just wanted to pinch his cheeks and squish his little face! Ah! I can’t wait for you to ask him out! Like, it’ll be so cute! And dumb! Because look at you!”

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to describe whatever it was that was twisting in Langa’s body. There was the heat of embarrassment, the desire for Emily to just shut the fuck up, but there was also the lightness of familiarity and fun. Falling back into the easy banter was nice. It was much better than being mad or being ignored. It was… comforting to know that there was someone he could talk to like this.

“This feels homophobic.”

Emily stared at him with a deadpan expression which made him snicker.

“When’s the last time you made that joke?”

“Whenever the last time you spoke to me and forced my hand.”

“I did not- Go to Hell!”

Oh, she was making this just too easy for him.

“But,” Langa cocked his head to the side, not bothering to hide his amused smile, “isn’t that where all the gays go?”

Exasperation stained Emily’s face as she reached out to him, her hands making a choking motion. Oh, how he had missed the jokes. How he had missed being annoying and obnoxious.

“How? How have you not outed yourself yet?”

Langa shrugged. “Simple. I don’t know how to say half of this shit in Japanese, so I can’t say it. Plus, new place, new life. Only you get the privilege of dealing with how I was back in Canada. But you bet your ass that I’m thinking it, even if I’m not saying it.”

“I’m sure you’re also thinking of someone’s ass-!”

It was a reflex, throwing the pillow at Emily. It was the only thing Langa could think of to get her to shut up. But the moment the pillow collided with the girl, her whole body curling to defend herself from the attack, Langa knew he had fucked up. Metal and ceramic clattered across his floor, half-eaten pancakes and an ungodly amount of smuggled maple syrup pooling on Emily’s lap and at her feet. Both froze, staring at the white pillow soaking in the sticky mess they had created.

“Damn, all this because you can’t take an ass joke.”

“I will choke you.”

“Kinky. Keep it for your boyfriend.”

So Emily was even worse than him. At least, when it came to obnoxiously dumb jokes. When it came to cleaning, both sucked, just staring at the floor instead of doing anything. At this rate, Langa would be better off just buying himself a new pillow; there was no way he would manage to get all that syrup out of it. But moving meant acknowledging the problem, and Langa was not ready for that. Or maybe he just didn’t like cleaning up messes.

“If my pillow is trash, I will murder you.”

Reluctantly, Emily picked up the pillow, holding it far from herself. A large stain had formed on the pillowcase, having probably seeped through the fabric and into the pillow’s fluff. Her face twisted in disgust. She also didn’t seem keen on cleaning and laundry.

“I invite you to try, but people have been trying and failing for the past 20 years.”

Langa sighed, finally pulling his legs off his bed and crouching down in from of the flipped plate. How was he supposed to clean this up? Where did he even start?

“Just help me clean your mess.”

“My mess? Excuse me? You’re the one who hit me with a pillow and caused this!”

The fork. He would start by picking up the fork. And maybe the plate. Leaving it on the floor was just risking breaking it. Hopefully, it wasn’t chipped.

“Go get the cleaning products. I think mom keeps them under the sink in the bathroom. And throw my pillow into a bag or something. We’ll have to go to the laundromat later.”

Emily sighed, finally pushing herself off the ground. She still held the pillow with the tip of her fingers, very far from her body.

“Fine! I’ll keep you company later, but you’re cleaning your floor! I’m not touching anything sticky and gross.”

“It’s maple syrup. How is that gross?”

“Just saying that I don’t know what trash you’ve put on your floor and I am not scrubbing it.”

“Just go get the stuff before this leaks through the floorboard.”

Emily huffed one last time before exiting the room. While he waited, Langa could hear his mother questioning Emily. “What was that noise?” “What are you looking for?” “Did you and Langa make up?” A smile pulled on the corner of Langa’s mouth. He knew his mother would ask questions and that was the only reason he had sent Emily to fetch the cleaning products. He knew if he had gone himself, then he would have had a thousand questions to answer which he absolutely did not want to do.

3 notes · View notes

gunmetalarchived · 3 years

Text

continued from this text thingy for something to tell you | a discord thread with @diabolicaltendencies

ALEX

She hovered outside his door, already wondering if he had just been nice on the phone to let her down in person. Even worse, after years of going through the conversation with people she didn’t give a shit about, it was hard to redo it all when she cares this much about someone else’s opinion. It was easy to dismiss gossip and rumour. Not so much the way her face cracked in a smile whenever her phone lit up with his name.

Fuck it. She took a deep breath and hit his door bell, the smell of vinegar seeping up from the heavily soaked chips in her arms. At least she would have some fuel for bribery, and a couple of beers to help it flow quicker.

SAM

Sam knew the conversation they'd had over text was heavier than she was letting on. He'd done some poking around the internet since, but after one or two crazy headlines and hyperlinks to celebrity conspiracy blogs popping up on his screen, he quickly quit he quit. It just gave him more proof that talking to people was more useful than googling them. He still can't believe people actually do that.

He opens the door with a smile, genuine and bright as he looks at her, "Hey!" He glances down at the bag and looks a bit confused but no less happy to see her, "Did you bring food?"

ALEX

“And beer, don’t forget the beer.” She beamed up at him, immediately glad she had come even if this was going to be awkward. She took a step inside setting the bag down in his hall to immediately yank him down to her level. If he had been acting polite earlier, fine, but there was no way on earth he was going to escape her barrage of kisses. She missed him. A couple weeks up north and a long overdue day in the studio aggravated that. The nerves more so.

“Cmere stupid.”

SAM

"And beer." He concedes, closing the door behind her. He pulls her close the same time she reaches for him, kissing her thoroughly like there hadn't even been an earlier conversation. He missed her just as much. Cupping her jaw, Sam runs his thumb along her cheek when they pull apart. "If you keep that up, the food's going to get cold."

ALEX

She folded into him so easily, so naturally it was like she was made to for there. It was still a surprise how normal this could feel. Her experience of relationships had been all or nothing, hot and cold was a mild way to put it. Yet with Sam, things seemed to sit at a constant simmer. A gentle bubble, a constant reminder that happiness was just a kiss away d as t the most. Gentle hands and soft touches, it was all so cliche and yet simply perfect.

Alex shrugged, because in all honesty she was happy to forget about the food entirely. But she rolled her eyes like a begrudging teenager, even if the idiotic grin on her face gave her away. “Fine, but I’m coming back for more later, alright?”

SAM

He presses a kiss against her hair before pulling away to pick up the food, "I hope so~" He flashes her a just-short-of-cocky grin and ushers her inside. The flat is an organized mess. There are jackets, papers and books littered about but they've each found their own neat pile. He's been pulling long hours and has resorted to just enough tidying to keep things from overwhelming him. One day it'll all get put away but it's not today.

"Wow, what'd I do to deserve this?" He comments happily upon peeking at their meal for the evening. He places the bag on the coffee table and settles down on one end of the gently worn couch.

ALEX

Alex followed him into his space, heading straight for the sofa too. She liked his flat, it was funny how it could feel so lived in. Her own place was so sparse, she looked like she could leave at any moment without it seeming out of place. But his was worn, loved, filled with time and memories. “Consider it bribery? Also, you’re welcome for saving you from any attempt at me cooking.”

She kicked her shoes off, immediately tucking her feet up underneath her and reaching for her keys from her pocket to open the beer bottles. “What have you been reading about? What’s that one?” She pointed to a pile on the coffee table curiously.

SAM

He begins sorting out the food, placing a box on either end of the table within reach and divvying up all the extra things in the bag. He glances up at the pile of books. It's mostly a stack of textbooks but the top one is a novel, "Oh, that's Stephen King's new one." He reaches to grab it and pass it over to her before opening his box and popping a fry into his mouth.

ALEX

She took the book form him, flipping through the pages likes he could actually take any of it in. No doubt she'd be up for it whenever it became a movie, but she had neither the mindset or the patience for reading. She learnt over, setting it back down carefully where he had pulled it form even if it meant being thoroughly in his way. Alex grabbed one of the bottles, using her keys in a way they were definitely not intended and holding it out for him to take. "Here y' go"

SAM

He leans backs slightly to make room for her to lean over but not quite enough that they aren't completely in each other's space. But it's comfortable, easy. "Thanks," He takes the bottle and downs a quick swig before smiling at her. "So what's the bribe for?"

ALEX

She grabbed the other bottle, playing with her keys again to loosen the top and taking a large swig to gather her thoughts. Her own food was still semi wrapped, so she stretched out for a chip from his. Taking it, Alex smirked.

“Well, I’m guessing you’ve got a ton of questions. And you might not like the answers so.. just in case.”

SAM

Sam slides his food a bit closer between them without complaint, continuing to casually eat himself. He smiles softly at her smirk, there's a short silence after she speaks before he replies, "We don't have to do this now. Unless you want to. My questions can wait."

ALEX

"Feels like we should rip the plaster off now, right?" There was no easy way to explain that if she put it off, she might stop talking all together. It happened, from time to time. He had just the good fortune of not being around to see it. Long distance worked like that. Alex shifted further into the sofa, curling into the arm to face him. "I'm all ears."

SAM

Sam looks over her and sits back against the couch, holding the beer in his lap. "Okay... I'm... not sure where to start." He offers an apologetic smile. "Maybe if you just-- explain what you were worried about me hearing? Give me the context?"

ALEX

"That's... fair." And it made it all the harder. Usually the songs lead this conversation or the press. Or both, if it was truly awful. She had fielded the worst of it for a few years not. It just had less stakes than this normally. Even when Jim found out. "I- erm-" She swallowed, hard. She pursed her lips to let the silence hang, trying to figure out where to start.

"I was with someone for about five years, l-like I said. He was on my course, and lived with me. We made a lot of music together until he got scouted, and then the thing I liked about him made us... not great."

SAM

Sam nods, he's listening intently, following along but not demanding anything. "And... that's what went into the music he wrote?" He asks gently, trying to put the pieces she's given him so far together.

ALEX

Alex nodded too, averting her eyes to take a sip from her own bottle as her fingers moved to fiddle with the label. “I wasn’t a great person... well I’m still not.” How best to put it? Her early twenties had been toxic, partly because of her relationship but also her outlook. There wasn’t really a way to explain all of that. “He wrote about me, about how he felt things had shifted between us. He took songs I had worked on with him and changed the lyrics to suit his view. And because my family is involved in politics, I didn’t get the luxury of having a fucked up relationship the same way other people do.”

SAM

Sam frowns, "So the media get a hold of it." He concludes. That would make sense of all the dramatics he'd seen from a simple search.

ALEX

“The band charted, there was a lot of press around the music from the few demos the label had pushed and... I was a great target.” She shifted awkwardly, tearing off a larger chunk of the label and rolling to between her fingers. “Things kind of spiralled from there.”

SAM

"Can I ask his name.. or the band's? I don't want to listen." He clarifies quickly. "Not unless you want me to for some reason. I just-- I don't want to look like an idiot if they come up."

ALEX

"Yeah- yeah, no of course. Elliot McAlistair, the band is Vactican Camoes. It was some dumb in joke the boys had." She smiled, softly. It was reassuring, whether he meant it or not. "You can. I mean, they're on the radio constantly. Sort of... unavoidable."

They had become the soundtrack to her life, especially working in the bar. Eventually she'd managed to curate some decent playlists to avoid it, but every now and agains she would be caught off guard by his tinny voice echoing from a shop front or builders radio.

"I don't come off well from it. I'm not... the most stable person in his eyes. And my dad - my brother, they didn't take it well."

SAM

"Well, good news is I don't believe everything I hear on the radio." Sam looks at her fondly. She's sitting so defensively, so worried about what he's going to think or say, but all he want to do is wrap an arm around her shoulders and hold her close. He knows this is her side of the story, but honestly that's the only one that matters to him. "...How did they take it?"

ALEX

Everything about her was nervous, tightly wound and yet somehow restless. Maybe finally talking about this would release the pit in her stomach.

“It’s- erm...” she tried to swallow again, opening her lips a few times before she had the sounds to fill them. “It’s.. complicated. I’m not, well, I wasn’t close with my dad so- yeah. It was very... personal. I sort of- I-I stopped talking for a while. My brother, he was better. But it’s... it’s not something people forget.”

She puffed out her cheeks, letting loose a heavy breath. “He wrote about things that made them look b-bad.”

SAM

Sam puts down the beer and shifts to sit facing her. He slowly reaches for her hand, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. He won't force the contact, "Hey." He shakes his head, "That's not your fault."

ALEX

“No, n-no I know you’re right.” She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his with a small squeeze. It was hard because she wasn’t expecting this comfort, but she liked it. Maybe this is what healthy relationships looked like. Her smile fell from her face though, her eye-line dropping to her feet. “Except, well, it kinda is. S-some of it anyway. They’re politicians so my life just... it doesn’t work for them. Me being me- it’s a bit of a whirlwind.”

SAM

He takes her hand in both of his, fingers caressing her skin. "I can't pretend to know what you were like then. I guess I don't really know your family either, but, I like who you are now. A song or headline isn't going to change that... and politicians, celebrities or not, nothing justifies someone selling your private life to the public without your consent. You know that, right?"

ALEX

On some base level, she knew he was right. And she agreed with him completely. Yet her mind swung constantly, between outrage at her life being subject to the judgment of the British public and shame at what a mess it had become. "Yeah." She said it quietly the first time, barely audible before she repeated it a little stronger. Maybe it would sink in.

"I don't know. I wasn't a decent person, neither was he. And I can live with that. It's become very real, having to explain it to everyone."

SAM

He nods and smiles encouragingly, squeezing her hand lightly between his. Sure, he would need more details for the full picture - to actually listen to the songs or read the articles. But even if it's the worst thing he can imagine... he doesn't think it would matter. He likes the Alex he knows, flaws and all, "Well I'm not running away yet... so now what?"

ALEX

"You sure? There's still time?" She uses her free hand to check an imaginary watch, trying to use the bit to gather her shaky confidence. It made sense he was playing nice now, whilst she was here and in the room. It was what came later she was terrified for. "It's okay. If this is too much, that's alright. My life isn't private anymore, it's a lot to get used to"

SAM

"It's not too much." He keeps up his reassuring smile. "Is there anything else you want me to know?"

ALEX

“You say that now...” she took a swig from her beer with a shrug. “I don’t know, guess if there’s any questions?”

SAM

"Hm." He looks down at their hands leaning in to kiss her knuckles before glancing back up with bright blue eyes, "Do I get to hear more of your music now that I know?"

ALEX

It was impossible not to smile when he did shit like this. Small, meaningful gestures that completely derailed her toxic train of thought. She leant forwards, pulling her hands away setting her bottle down on the coffee table before she flopped onto him entirely. She let her head rest against his chest, curling her shoulders to fit in the space at the back of the sofa. Impossible for him to eat, but soothing all the same. “Maybe. If you wanted to? Truth is I haven’t really written, well not for me. For friends, sure but that’s different. I’ve had an idea or two... just not got very far ‘til you came along.”

SAM

Sam falls perfectly into place, right where she wants him. He curls an arm around her, fingers lightly ghosting back and forth before reaching up to brush her hair back from her face. "I'd love to hear it." And he genuinely means it. There's a small note of excitement in his words.

ALEX

Easy. He made things easy. Easier to talk, to be kind, to be honest. Easier to write too. Sure, she'd been playing around with ideas more form the moment they met. However they were still personal - a real outlet for the intense feelings she had been having and trying to play down. Alex knew she was besotted. Acting cool was tricky when she fel so hard, and so fast for the people who showed her the slightest affection. She didn't even think, she just let it out. She had intended to say 'I'd love you to.' but it came out... different.

"I think I love you."

SAM

Out of everything she’s said, all the supposed horrors and skeletons in her closet, it’s those three words that surprise him. He inhales, chest expanding under her cheek, and his expression flutters between surprise and happiness. His breath catches on the exhale, words tumbling out of his mouth before he can think twice, whispered into her hair, “I love you too.”

Maybe it wasn't the right time to say it. Maybe he should've waited for a moment that wasn't weighed down by what's she's been through. But he's happy. He loves her. It's the truth. His arm tightens around her in a loose hug.

#discord thread 012 | something to tell you #( sh: toothpaste kisses | alex + sam | happyverse )#diabolicaltendencies #( v: happyverse )

2 notes · View notes

kingsuckjin · 5 years

Text

Teach Me (pt.1 of 3)

Pairing: Teacher!Jin x reader

Warnings: fingering (f receiving) dirty talk, mention of an eating disorder.

Synopsis: Your reputation was no secret in school even before you hit eighteen and nineteen. You were trouble and everyone knew it, you weren’t about to ease up with the final few months left either, you were going to go full force. You wanted one good last big stunt to pull before the end of the year, your last year. Only one thing could top the things you’ve done, you were going to have sex with the hottest teacher in your school.

Words: 6,139

Notes: for @snakeuuuuuuu who asked for this because she loves Jin too. Ily💜 Sorry, it was long and I have to split it into three parts.

// next

↪my masterlist

you watched your world history teacher pace the room and passionately go on and on about the not so great dictators of the world as you admired his body for the millionth time. He was hot and everyone knew it. He was passionate and broad shouldered, tall with a gorgeous face and plump lips.

You couldn’t help but stare as he chuckled at his own joke with gorgeously straight teeth, no one else laughed but he didn’t seem to care. He was confident and knew he was good looking.

Your eyes trailed down to the crotch of his black dress pants, you bet he had a big dick to match his height.

You shifted in your seat now feeling the uncomfortable stickiness of your underwear.

You had it bad for him, maybe it was because he never treated you like you were less than other students for all the things you’ve done, for failing his class or even for that time you set one of the school bathrooms on fire. He had never once treated you like more than anyone else either, but would he? You wondered if you could convince him to, and what it would feel like to have this man’s attention all on you. You wondered if you could get him to touch you.

You were now imagining his large hands roaming your body and his full lips pressed against yours with his tongue roaming your mouth.

It would never happen. Honestly he seemed rather dorky, he laughed at his own jokes and had once worn his shoes on the wrong feet without somehow noticing for a full day, but in a way that only made him more appealing to you. He wasn’t your type, sure. Your type was guys who snuck off to get a cigarette between classes or skipped them all together. Your type were the guys with tattoos who would sneak you out of your house at midnight to fuck you in the back of their car. But Mr. Kim… maybe you could show him a thing or two despite him being older, you didn’t doubt you knew more about sex than him, you’ve had some wild times with boys much older than you, but never a teacher.

“Miss. Y/n”

You snapped out of it to see your teacher looking right at you “which dictator would you rather live through and why?”

You knew he was only asking you a question to get you out of that gazing look you most likely had been wearing… possibly at his crotch.

Your brain scrambled for a good answer.

“Uh, none? Because they’re all terrible.” Was what you came up with. You watched as his lips pulled into a wider smile.

“Good answer.” He gave you a nod as the class laughed around you at the seemingly trick question. He ran his fingers through his smooth brown hair to push it back and gave you another smile before he went back to teaching. That was the moment you decided you were going to fuck his brains out.

Next, you needed a plan. You knew He was a nice guy and always wanted to help, so that’s what you were going to ask for. You weren’t going to make it obvious right away that the help you were asking for was actually getting fucked by him, no, you had to ease into it. Would it work though? He had to know you were trouble, everyone did.

You tried to make it through the rest of the class without daydreaming lewd things about him, but it seemed more impossible than normal. As everyone piled out of the room, you headed right for him hunched over his desk writing something and waited patiently. It wasn’t until the door closed behind the last student that he looked up, jumping a little in his seat at the surprise of you standing there. He chuckled it off and you couldn’t help but grin at taking him by surprise.

“What can I do for you?” He wore a smile as he looked up at you.

“Well,” you sighed and now feigned disappointment and apprehension as you played with your fingers clasped in front of you to look more innocent. “It’s my-”

“Grades, right?” To your surprise he looked sympathetic as you nodded. You knew he was nice but you didn’t expect him to really feel bad for someone like you. “I had a feeling. It’s the end of the year, and you’re failing. Although to be honest I didn’t expect you to care enough to approach me about it, the fact that you care enough to come to me about it makes me want to help you… but…” His sympathetic look only grew stronger as his brown eyes looked up at you “I’m afraid it’s just too late.”

“Oh.” You said feeling actually feeling hurt even though you didn’t care in the slightest about your grades. It seemed to be strictly his emotions and the empathetic look on his face that affected you. “Well… thanks- thank you anyway Mr.K.” You went to walk away forgetting almost entirely about your mission for a moment.

“Wait.” He said stopping you, you turned to face him again. “To be completely truthful with you, you haven’t been the best kid in the school.”

“I know.” Your reply was surprisingly quiet and guilt filled. All of the trouble you had gotten into suddenly embarrassed you and you didn’t understand why. All of the suspensions and detentions had felt like accomplishments until now.

“But I believe in redemption, I believe it’s never too late to try and like I said, the fact that you approached me means something. Listen,” he let out a sigh and paused a moment as if still making a decision that he let out in almost a whisper “I’m not supposed to do this when it’s this late in the year, but I can get a few tests to let you redo. you can’t take them home, so you’ll have to come in on your lunch for a few days. I’ll help you with them.”

You honestly couldn’t believe what he was offering. It was a good deal And even if you didn’t care about your grade, it would be easy.

“Really? Thank you so much. I-”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He asked with furrowed brows.

“I swear, I would never.” You assured quickly “I promise, you can trust me. I might’ve gotten into a lot of trouble but I would never rat anyone out, especially not you.”

Your words seemed to satisfy him.

“I appreciate that. Come by at lunch tomorrow and I’ll have them for you okay?”

“Thanks Mr. Kim.” You gave him one last smile before turning to leave again.

“Have a good day y/n” he called after you. You were already having a good day though because you were one step closer to possibly getting closer to your hot teacher.

For the rest of your day all you could think about was planning your attack, even in your best friend Jimin’s car as he drove you home.

“Okay, so I don’t know if he’s the type of guy who would frown upon dressing slutty.”

“I would doubt he is, I’d be more concerned with wondering if he’s the type of guy who would frown upon having sex with a student. I can’t believe you’re doing this, why?” Jimin seemed puzzled, but not surprised with his hands on the steering wheel.

“Don’t say you wouldn’t fuck him.” You looked at him and spoke with a dry tone.

His lips stretched into an embarrassed smirk.

“You know I would.”

“See?”

“But that doesn’t mean he would. Bet you can’t.” Jimin got a daring look in his eye as he pulled up at your house.

“Bet I could.” You replied before getting out of the car.

“Wear something cute but not childish, I think he’d like that.” Jimin had rolled down his window to yell to you. You simply just gave him a thumbs up to let him know you had heard him.

Lunch with your teacher wasn’t sexy, it was just you doing packet after packet as he ate a sandwich and pointed out where you went wrong on most questions. It was awkward, it was quiet, but worst of all it was actual work. You had to do something, you had to get the ball rolling because you didn’t come here to put in actual work, unless it involved his dick in your mouth.

You let out a sigh as you glanced at the clock on the wall seeing that there was only fifteen minutes left.

“Everything alright? Are you stuck?” He looked down at the question on the paper you hadn’t touched in a while.

“No, my brain just hurts.” You admitted with a groan.

“That’ll happen if you haven’t used it in a while. Joking. I can see you’re trying, you can be finished for today if you want.”

You let out a long sigh of relief at the permission he just gave you.

“Thanks, I was really hoping you’d say that.” You went to pick up your backpack but he stopped you.

“Got somewhere to be?” He asked and as you realized you had absolutely nowhere to go or be for another fifteen minutes, you put your backpack down on the floor. You wondered why you would even want to leave right now.

“You didn’t have any lunch today, you should just bring it here tomorrow, you can eat and work at the same time.”

“I never really eat lunch.” You admitted and he raised a brow at you.

“Why is that?”

You merely just shrugged, you were usually off driving around with Jimin at lunch and having a cigarette, but you couldn’t tell him that.

“If I made you lunch tomorrow would you eat it?”

You just looked up at him dumbfounded by him offering to make you food. And then it occurred to you that maybe he thought you had an eating disorder or something.

“There’s nothing wrong, I just-”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with you, I never said there was.” He said gently. You couldn’t understand why those words had hit you so hard. Everyone thought there was something wrong with you including your parents.

“I’ll- I’ll eat it.” You couldn’t look away as he gave you a smile.

“I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

You hoped he had meant that about something else too.

“I doubt I will be.” You muttered after looking away. You thought he hadn’t heard it until he let out a quiet laugh of amusement. You flipped through the packet you had been working on to not seem so awkward as your mind raced at a thousand thoughts a second. You wondered if he had caught the double meaning of your reply.

“What kind of food do you like?”

You gave him another shrug as you looked at anything in the bland room but him.

“Anything but onions”

He dropped the paperwork he had been sorting through on his desk to look at you making your face feel a bit heated.

“Well then I’ll make you something without onions.”

You saw this as a step beyond just doing tests, you asked yourself over and over if this was him making a move of some kind or if he just felt bad that you weren’t eating.

You took a breath and readied yourself for what you were about to say next.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

His body visibly lock up and freeze at the question. You did it, you had affected him but whether that be in a good or bad way, you didn’t know. You expected him to scold you for being inappropriate, but he didn’t.

“There is.”

A tingle ran through your body at his response, you were ready to drop to your knees in front of him right now if that’s what he wanted. “I want to know why.”

You sat there confused and waiting for clarification, luckily he elaborated.

“I want to know why act like you do, why you want to get in trouble so much. Is there something going on at home? Are you afraid of failing so you just don’t try? Is it perhaps an attention problem? I know they’re all personal questions, but I want you to know you can tell me anything, anything at all.” He now gave you his full attention with a soft look in his pretty eyes that felt like they were drilling into your brain for answers to his questions.

You truthfully didn’t know the answers to his questions, you didn’t know why you were like you were. You did know that no one had ever made you feel more fragile, more vulnerable than he was in this moment.

“I- I- uh…” you sputtered for an answer not understanding why he would want to know or care. “I don’t know. I’m- I’ve decided not to be like that anymore ” It was a lie.

“Why? To be blunt, one doesn’t just set fire to a school bathroom, start dozens of fights in the cafeteria and get caught having sex in a car in the school parking lot and just decide to suddenly change.”

“I-” you leaned back in your seat and decided to tell him at least part of the truth “I’m getting older, I’m an adult, nineteen now and… I think I’d really like to go to college, somewhere far away. I just want to leave, I’ve been here my whole life and nothing excites me anymore. I’m afraid it’s too late to make that decision now though.” Only the last part was true, you weren’t about to stop your evil ways though.

“Ah, so it’s simply just for excitement then, you’re a thrill seeker.” He seemed to read you and nod in understanding “I am too, I know it’s hard to believe. It was much worse when I was your age, I didn’t know how to channel it, but now I do.”

Somehow you doubted his words, how was the you slightly dorky world history teacher a thrill seeker? Then again, you wondered if maybe he would have some useful advice for you.

“Well how do you channel it into something else? What do you do?”

“Well…” You watched as he sat back in his chair, staring at the papers on his desk. “We can’t talk about that.”

Oh fuck.

Was he talking about sex? That’s where your dirty mind went, it was the only place it could go.

“Oh. Why not?” You pressed the issue innocently.

His eyes flicked back to you as he leaned in with his hands clasped together on the desk while he cleared his throat.

For a moment you wondered if he was going to say anything at all.

“Are you looking for advice or just… just curious?” You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed seeming only slightly nervous, your nerves however were off the charts.

“Both.” You decided after a moment.

It had to be adventurous sex he was into, why else would he be so unwilling to talk about it?

“Cooking, I like trying new things, it excites me.”

Your head tilted in confusion, you hadn’t even meant for it too but he saw your reaction. It was cooking? Why would he say he couldn’t talk about that?

“What did you expect me to say?” The smile that grew on his face seemed teasing.

“But… that sounds boring, no offense.”

“Ohhh it’s not. It’s so satisfying to put effort into preparing a meal and when it comes time to indulge and eat it, you feel so… It’s exciting.”

You were still so confused by his answer, how could making food replace getting into trouble and feeling so high off of that?

“So you’re a good cook? That’s what does it for you? I’m sorry, eating is great but…”

“Not into it?” He smiled a wide toothy smile “well apparently you’ve never had anyone cook well for you before.”

You were now almost entirely convinced that your teacher was wildly boring until he whispered the next phrase “I heard you were a good cook, at least that’s what the boy you were caught with told everyone. I have to say though, only real men cook, boys just fiddle around with the microwave.” He looked you dead in the eye as he said this, your stomach jumped into your throat.

He was definitely not talking about actually cooking.

“So,” he announced and went back to sorting through his paperwork on his desk casually as if you weren’t still sitting there in shock. “Am I making you lunch tomorrow? You know, I’ve never made lunch for a student so I’m a little nervous but it should be fun.”

“Please.” Left your lips and you watched as his tried to hide a smile as he concentrated on his menial task before glancing up at the clock.

“Two minutes left, you may go ahead and pack up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You silently did as you were asked, still in a shocked state.

“Oh, y/n?”

You looked up from zipping up your backpack to his brown eyes once again focused on you.

“Can you actually go to your next class, and the one after that, and so forth? Be a good girl.”

Be a good girl

Your brain spun at the phrase, you were already going to have a hard enough time walking around in your soaked panties for the rest of the day.

“Yes sir.” It came out quick and natural. You bit your lip at the smile that appeared on his face that told you he liked your reply. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m hoping so.”

You turned and left his room with your legs feeling weak.

“One moment it was cooking and the next it was sex, I swear to god.” You tried to explain as you sat on Jimin’s bed with a textbook in hand as he laid at the foot on his stomach with a controller in hand.

“You’re such a liar and sometimes I hate it.” He scoffed as he played his game.

“I just swore to god, Jimin.”

“You don’t believe in god, y/n”

“Would I be doing fucking homework if I was lying? Would I honestly be doing it if I wasn’t about to be fucked by the hot world history teacher?” He paused the game and looked back at you.

“Ehh I guess you have a point. You really think that dick is going to be worth it though?” He put the controller down and now sat up with his legs crossed to face you.

“Yes. Yes he’s hot. He told me to be a good girl, Jimin you don’t even understand. A good girl. I nearly came right then and there.” You whined.

“Well if this is really happening tomorrow then wear like a dress or something for easy access because I bet he’s going to fuck you on his desk.”

You let out a half groan half moan at your best friend torturing you.

“That is if he wasn’t actually talking about food.” Jimin gave a small laugh as he added.

“He wasn’t! I would know flirting, do you know how many guys I’ve slept with?”

“No, and neither do you.” Jimin grinned and you slapped at his arm, but he was right.

“Exactly, I know he was propositioning me.”

“But why? Why’s he wanting to sleep with you?. You mentioned him insinuating that he doesn’t do this with other students.” Jimin seemed curious, but you weren’t, you were going to get fucked by your teacher and that’s all that mattered to you.

“I don’t know, I think he’s trying to fuck the evil out of me or something.” You joked with a shrug causing Jimin to throw his head back in laughter.

“I’ve got news for him, it’s not going to work. Yeah he’s cute, yeah he’s a teacher but your evil ascends all that is good. Oh my god, what if he like actually wants you? Like wants wants you.?” Jimin let out a gasp at the last part as you thought about it.

“I doubt it. I wouldn’t keep him away, you know me. but I think he just likes to try stuff, he’s not going to want a relationship with a student.” You went back to doing your homework.

“Need I remind you that you’re only his student for another few months? You guys could have all summer to do your kinky shit.”

“Nope. You declined "I think it’s a one and done thing. I just need to get it out of my system, plus this really tops everything off for me. What’s the only way to top setting fire to a bathroom? Fucking the hottest teacher in the school.”

“Yeah but it’s not cool unless people know you did it, you’re not even going to be here long enough to really soak in the glory.” He let out a scoff.

You pointed at Jimin with your pencil.

“But you will be, you still have a year left. You can tell everyone of my adventures and keep my memory alive after I’m gone.” You fake sobbed but snapped right out of it making Jimin smile.“I still have two months anyway to spread it around that I fucked the hottest teacher anyway.”

“My god you’re evil.” Jimin shook his head and chuckled.

You took Jimin’s advice and wore a casual dress to school. You were nervous, more nervous than you had ever been about sleeping with someone. So many thoughts ran through your mind the whole first half of the day, one of them was Jimin’s why? You reminded yourself you didn’t care why he wanted to do this, but it had been effortless. He came to you when you anticipated the opposite. you had expected to work for this, to slowly flirt with him only to get nowhere at all. He had given you an explanation though, right? He just liked being adventurous, you were just as much of an adventure and conquest to him as he was you and that was it.

You had to pause and rest against a locker as you headed to his room. You pulled out your phone but just stared at the screen to look busy and casual, to hide the fact that your heart was racing and you needed a moment to contain yourself.

You felt like you needed to get a grip. You had fucked in public and had been caught before, and at no point had you felt like this.

For the first time in your life you began to feel doubt. It crossed your mind that this might be some sort of trick, he seemed too good for this. Maybe he planned on seeing if you’d actually turn up and take you to the office for sexual harassment? Something was bound to go wrong… but since when did you care?

You didn’t care, and that’s what you told yourself as you made your way to his room. You took a quiet breath upon seeing the classroom door cracked open. You stalled for just a second longer before you pushed your body to move and go inside.

When you walked in you saw him leaned back in his chair with his elbow propped on the arm of the chair holding up his head in his hand looking bored. His dark brown hair was pushed back away from his forehead and he seemed to be staring off at nothing.

The sound of you closing the door behind you made him look your direction and drop his hand as if you entering the room was now the most interesting thing in the world.

“Are you okay, Mr. K?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and gave you a sweet smile. You looked at his desk to see there was no test packet that you had been working on, there was no lunch, there wasn’t even any papers for him to pore over as a distraction. It was only the two of you.

“I thought you got cold feet.” He said upon glancing at the clock.

“I thought you might too, from the look on your face when I walked in.” You too admitted.

“Do… you want to come over here?” He avoided your comment.

You realized you were still standing by the closed door stupidly, so you took his invite and walked over on rubbery feeling legs. You went to pull a chair from one of the desks like you normally did to sit beside him- but his voice stopped you.

“You can just sit over here.” He offered and you paused again to make sure you weren’t crazy and there wasn’t a chair next to him, you knew there wasn’t. “If you want.” He added making you now understand he was talking about his lap.

You weren’t about to say no as you walked over to him and stood in front of him.

He looked up at you from his chair as if asking if you would sit.

“If you don’t want to do this then-”

He was cut off by you leaning forward and kissing his plump, soft lips that you had only been dreaming of doing until now. You found that it was so much better in real life.

He kissed you right back, slowly and softly, you don’t recall anyone ever kissing you like this before as his hand went up to your cheek.

You pulled back slightly, just a little. You felt so surprised by the feeling of that kiss. It had felt like slow ocean waves swallowing you whole, or being smothered in feathers. It felt like a death in the gentlest, calmest way possible. Now his hand still rested on your cheek and his warm brown eyes dared to look into yours and stop your heart.

Your thoughts of him pounding into you while bent over his desk were gone and now, you found yourself just letting yourself be drawn in closer as he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you into his lap to face him.

Your knees fit perfectly in the room that was left in the seat of the chair on both sides of where he sat.

His lips came closer to yours this time, but they didn’t touch, not yet.

“Why did you get so quiet on me?” He whispered “I thought you were a big, brave, bad girl? Are you always this shy when you get this close to someone?”

“No” you answered it all in a single quiet breath. Your knees began to shake from still holding you up above his lap so you finally gave in and lowered yourself. You might as well get comfortable with him, but it was hard when he was making you feel like such a timid, quivering mess without doing a single thing to you.

“Let’s take it nice and slow then.”

His lips finally pressed themselves to yours, suffocating you with their warmth, overwhelming you with their crawling, lingering pace. It was so little yet it was so much.

You didn’t know if you wanted it slow, but you didn’t know if your body could handle anything more than this from him right now, you were already shaking like a leaf and you felt like your breath had been stolen right from your lungs.

You had to pull away just to catch your breath which made him smile.

“Do I take your breath away?” He laughed.

“Maybe a little.” You said before going back in to kiss him again.

Your hands went to his hair now as his tongue dipped into your mouth, you didn’t even mean for a small moan to escape into his mouth.

Your little noise prompted him to slowly run his hands down your hips to your thighs. He slid his hands under your dress where he rested his hands back on your hips but now with one less barrier separating his contact with you.

You now noticed how hard he was in his black dress pants against your clothed core.

After a moment you began to lose track of time and wonder how long had you two been making out. You were afraid it would seem rude to glance at the clock, but you were afraid, was there time to do anything else? You felt like you absolutely needed him to do something more right now even though you thought it might end you.

“Please touch me.” You separated from him once more to whisper, you were shocked at the neediness of your own voice, but didn’t care anymore.“I’ll touch you back I-I-”

“Shhh.” He calmed your begging as he stared at your lips. One of his hands left your body only to return to it while running over the lace of your panties.

“I’ll touch you, just don’t feel rushed.” His quiet words calmed your nerves.

You closed your eyes and let out a small breath as he ran his fingers your clothed clit. Even with your eyes closed, you knew he was watching your every reaction, you felt him watching you.

“More. Please.” You moaned quietly.

He slid his hand down the front of your underwear and glided his fingers over your obviously slick folds. This time it was him who let out a quiet breath.

You pulled yourself up off his lap just enough for him to glide his fingers inside of you.

Your hands automatically tangled into as much hair as they could as he began using his thumb on your clit.

His hand that was still on your hip guided you back down onto his lap so that his hand imitated how his cock might feel inside of you.

“Ride my fingers like you would my cock.” He guided your hips in a slow rhythmic rocking motion. You listened to every word just as you did every breath he took. You were already too fucked out of your mind to feel like you could even think for yourself, and he hadn’t even made you come yet. What a fool you were for thinking you were coming into this thinking you might teach him anything at all.

As you rocked with his fingers hooked inside of you and his thumb still slowly rubbing over your clit, you realized you wanted it faster, you needed more. You tried to move faster but his hand on your hip guided you controlled the pace.

“Nice and slow.” He reminded you still whispering “you can come like this, just imagine It’s my cock. Pretend I’m this deep inside of you.”

You let out a whimper at his words and his fingers hit your sweet spot inside of you everytime you rocked your hips.

“Just like that. You’re so close I know it.”

“I want you inside of me.” You panted looking him in the eyes.

He leaned into your ear.

“You couldn’t take me.” It was barely a whisper, but it ran through you and pushed you to your orgasm.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You gasped as he forced you to move your hips fast and curled his fingers harder inside of you.

“You like that, hm? You like the thought of my huge cock?” He asked as you continued to squeeze around his fingers and moan until you were left with nothing but the aftershock of the pure bliss you experienced.

“One more time for me. Look at me when you come this time.” He gently whispered his demand.

Your hips slowed back down again but this time you pried your eyes open and stared into his blown out pupils. He looked so incredibly hot with his hair falling into his face as he watched your reaction while his cock continued to twitch against your thigh.

“Come on sweetheart, one more time.” He coaxed before leaning close to your ear and giving you a desperate moan that sounded so real that your body believed it and responded right away.

“I’m comi-” your second orgasm rushed through you, cutting you off as he moved back to look you in the eyes and intentionally work you harder with his fingers.

“God that’s hot.” He muttered as you came and let you ride out your high on his fingers.

You let your head fall to his shoulder as you panted and he pulled his fingers out of you.

“You alright sweetie?” He whispered as you tried to pull yourself together. He let you lay your head on him as you watched him grab napkins out of his desk beside him and wipe his sticky fingers.

“Five minutes.” He warned you of the time as his arms went around you. You jumped at the unexpected sensation. You weren’t used to this. You pulled your head off his shoulder and looked at him as you tried to figure him out. Why was he trying to hold you? What was the point of that? Maybe you had been asking for it by laying your head on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind you recoiling at his touch though. A new question now crossed your mind with hearing how little time you had left.

“If there’s only five minutes how am I going to repay-”

“Don’t say it like that. I don’t expect anything in return.” He shook his head.

“But you just…” you didn’t understand.

“Real men know it’s just as much fun to give as to receive. However, we both did skip actual lunch. So maybe you can meet me by the back doors after school once everyone leaves, and I can make that up to you?” He asked but from the way his eyes flickered from yours to your lips before returning, told you he had to want more than that. Of course he wanted to do more than just eat, and so did you.

“I’ll be there.” You agreed.

He helped you to your feet which were ironically less shaky now than when you walked in.

“Two minutes” he warned as he leaned in and gave you an unexpected kiss on the cheek. You felt a smile grow on your lips as you walked out the classroom door.

The moment you walked out, it was like your bubble of soft perception had popped, leaving you wondering what the hell just happened.

That wasn’t at all the pounding while bent over the desk you expected, actually you hadn’t done anything like that before. You had been fingered, yeah, but not so well that you came twice while gazing into the other person’s eyes. You didn’t understand why he didn’t just do it quick and get it over with so you could get him off too. everyone liked immediate gratification.

Why did he try to hold you after and why did you want him to?

It felt so strange to you, because it all felt so good you wanted more.

Another problem that came to mind was the guilt you felt about telling anyone, and the embarrassment of others discovering the closeness you just shared with the man. Jimin would want to know. But what could you tell him? He wouldn’t want to hear about the boring way Mr. Kim held your body close as he looked into your eyes. And you hadn’t even seen his dick!Normally you wouldn’t think twice talking about being fucked behind a bush, but this… it felt like almost betrayal to share it. You would feel bad for your teacher and completely ruin your reputation as a badass.

You wondered how the hell he had gotten you so torn up mentally and physically, You were stunned by a man for the first time in your life. And you hated it.

#kim Seokjin #kim Seokjin smut #jin smut #seokjin x reader #jin fluff #seokjin fluff #jin x reader #teacher jin x reader #teacher seokjin x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts oneshot #jin oneshot #seokjin oneshot #teacher bts x reader #smutcentralnet

625 notes · View notes

lu-undy · 4 years

Text

Chapter 12 - SBT

Here it is!

The Australian had his breakfast slowly. Coffee and croissant. The warmth and softness of them brought a flicker of happiness into him. After the bath in the lake, he had needed to put something in his stomach.

And his mind naturally came back to his past night. Bah… Emma wanted it and he obliged. Now he could say it, he didn't mind it much. No hard feelings against her either. He just didn't have feelings for the sheila.

The bell of the restaurant rang as another customer entered. He went straight to the opposite corner of the dining area without even seeing the Aussie.

“Oh…!”

The waitress went to him excitedly. It put a smile on the Aussie’s face and he continued enjoying his breakfast, leaning back on his seat. He let his legs flow in front of him, thinking about the alligators again. He didn’t have any leads to start tracing them back. That wasn’t too good. He had waited a few days to see if he would hear from his collaborators but no one had called him.

Wherever they were, the alligators were still in Australia which was good but God only knew if they were safe…

Mundy put his hands in his pockets and sighed.

“Oh?”

There was something in there. He got it out and put it on the table. He had forgotten about it. It was the object that he had found at Johnson’s reserve, where the tracks were. He had no idea where that object came from and what purpose it served. Also, it happened to be covered in dust.

The Aussie took a paper towel and wiped it. It was made of fabric but wasn’t much bigger than a coin although it was wider and not made of metal, at least not entirely.

“What is that…?”

It looked like a jacket button but it had to be a fancy one as the Australian realised that it was embroidered with what looked like golden threads intertwined with dark blue cotton. Most of the threads were damaged such that he couldn’t get much more out of it. A meagre start but it was a start anyway. Wherever the poachers came from might have to do with that, and as poor as that was, it was his only solid lead.

“Roight… Need to ask someone about this thing…”

He raised his head and looked around, his eyes darting left and right, wondering who might know more about a jacket button.

“Eddy won’t know, for sure… Matt? Nah, I don’t reckon he’d have any idea about this. Phil? Maybe. The bloke’s classy but he isn’t an expert with clothes.”

And that’s when the idea struck him.

“A tailor. That’s what I need.”

Mundy wrapped the button in a paper tissue and put it back in his pocket before going to the counter and waiting for someone to take his money. No one was coming. He looked right and left and saw the waitress sitting at a table with a client. It might have been a relative. He was too old to be her partner…

“‘Scuse me, mate?”

She turned her head.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I’m coming!”

She came trotting and apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry, I was just having a chat with a friend... Anyway.... You had a coffee and croissant right?”

“No worries, I’m not in a hurry, and yeah, coffee and croissant.”

The Aussie paid and left the place. He climbed in his van and drove off, the button safely in his pocket and his thoughts fell back on his goal.

“I don’t know any tailors and I don’t s’ppose Eddy could show me one… Bugger…”

He took a deep breath.

“Now, I reckon I could find one in the posh neighbourhood. That’s a thing Johnson must have, eh? A tailor… Make fancy suits, pay them an arm and a leg and brag about it. That, and his animals.”

Mundy looked left and right at the shop windows.

“Groceries… Shoes… Generic clothes… Watches… Jewellery… Baker… Bar… Restaurant… Tailor-ah!”

He drove a bit more until he found where to park and walked to the shop.

“Looks as posh as it should be…”

The front window showed mannequins elegantly dressed with tuxedos of various shapes and colours.

Fancy plastic blokes with atrociously expensive clothes...

The Aussie pushed the door and entered. The inside of the shop was as posh as the outside. It was all wooden and shining under the polish and the smell...

“Good morning, Sir. How may I help?”

A man with a stylish white moustache and a light beige suit was looking at Mundy.

“Uhm, I’d like some information, please.”

“But of course, Sir. What is it?”

Mundy came to the counter and removed his hat.

“I’ve got this uh, this button here…”

He put the paper towel on the counter and unwrapped the blue and gold button.

“Belonged to my father, see? I’d love to have it repaired properly and sewn back into the jacket it belongs to.”

“Oh, your father was working at the Queen Victoria, Sir?”

“Sorry?”

Mundy raised an eyebrow.

“This button belongs to the jackets that the waiters there wear. I know because I make them. See the thread? It’s blue cotton that comes from an Indian farm. The golden thread? It is real gold that is hand embroidered into the shape of Queen Victoria’s head originally. Such a shame that it had been damaged this way... “

“So I guess you can fix it?” Mundy asked, feigning interest.

“Of course, if you bring the jacket that goes with it, I will redo the button and re-attach it without any problem.”

“Roight, I see. Thanks.”

"I could also make an entirely new one if that's any better. I just need your father's name."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"His name?"

"Yes, Sir. We keep a record of all the measurements we took of all our customers. The waiters and staff at the Queen Victoria are among them. That is also why you can find that every piece of clothing that we make for them has the name of the person it belongs to embroidered on it."

"Oh, I see. Don't bother with the entire thing. I just want to fix it quickly, he likes it so much. Reminds him of good old days, see?"

“But of course, Sir. When shall we see you back?” The impeccably dressed man asked.

“Oh, tomorrow for sure. Thanks again.”

The Aussie exited and smiled to himself. He had made up that story about his father completely but at least it worked. His next stop was that restaurant, the Queen Victoria.

He walked back to his van decidedly and realised that was it! He had a purpose again, he was back at it, hunting! Oh he felt so alive! He didn't feel like the odd one in the crowd of half-dead passer-bys. No, he had a purpose, an aim, a target.

Mundy looked around him and the crowd looked more colourful and generally smiling at each other. He pushed his glasses up his nose and climbed in his van again. He drove around town with a smile on his face without even realising it. He knew where the place was. The Queen Victoria was the poshest place around, full of snob people like Johnson, people who thought they were owed everything and should be served.

Ugh…

But Mundy didn't grimace for too long. At least, he had a clue of where to go and soon arrived. He parked his van not far from the place and headed in.

It was lunchtime and the restaurant was busy. As Mundy's eyes scanned the dining area quickly, he realised that most people looked like penguins with their fancy suits and ties; ladies were all wearing colourful dresses and in the back was a stage with musicians playing. As for waiters, they indeed all wore a uniform made of dark blue and gold, exactly like the button that Mundy had found at Johnson's.

The Aussie shook his head.

"Good day to you, Sir."

The voice of the butler interrupted his train of thought.

"Oh, hey there, uhm-"

"Have you booked in advance, Sir?"

The posh little penguin of a waiter was eyeing the hunter up and down, slightly pulling up his nose as if getting near someone who was wearing some old brown trousers and a beige polo shirt was an offense.

"No, I've just come to ask you about somethin'.” Mundy tried to ignore the disdainful attitude. “See I've found this."

He took out the damaged button from his pocket and showed it to the arrogant butler, trying this best to seem genuinely concerned about whoever had lost it.

"I asked around and apparently it belongs to one of your folks. I just wanted to know who that was and return it to them. I guess it isn’t too good walkin’ around with a ruined jacket in yer business, isn’t it?"

The shorter man's eyebrows jumped before he laughed.

"I thank you for your concern but our establishment can still pay for such trifles, because that is exactly what a uniform jacket is, a trifle. Now, if you have no business with us, I will ask you to leave as there are other people needing me at the moment."

Mundy looked over his shoulder and saw the queue of snobbish people impatiently waiting.

"Can I at least have the name of the bloke who lost it?"

"Sorry Sir and please, plenty of ladies and gentlemen waiting…"

The butler raised himself to the tip of his toes and looked over the taller Australian to make him understand that he had more pressing matters at hands than a ridiculous jacket button. Mundy sighed, disappointed and exasperated, he left the restaurant, shoving the button angrily in his pocket. He walked back to his van and sat there.

"Tsk, how the hell am I gonna progress now…?"

He remained sitting there for a moment, watching people come and go as suddenly, the sky had gone grey. Or not, he couldn’t tell but things had turned much more difficult than he expected. And God how frustrating it was! He was so close yet so far from what he needed: a name, just a name, how hard could it be?!

"I need to find who the hell's lost that bloody button…"

Mundy sighed and kept his eyes on the restaurant for a few minutes before driving away. He left the posh neighbourhood and went back to a territory he knew much better. His van drove him somewhere he knew he wouldn’t be bothered and would have the peace and quiet he required to think.

"Oh hey there, how're ya M?"

The bell jingled as he pushed the door and Mundy entered the hunting shop. He went straight to the counter.

"Oh uh… Why the long face?" Eddy asked.

The answer he received was a grumble, maybe a growl.

"Need anythin' from me or the shop?"

Mundy remained mute, his hands laid flat on the counter and his head lowered. Eddy stood in front of the Aussie and waved at his face, as if to try and wake him up from his open-eyed dream but Mundy did not move by an inch; he didn't even blink.

Eddy sighed and smiled. The message was clear enough. The Aussie just needed somewhere to think and he had chosen his shop. Fair enough. The short man continued cleaning his display cases. He whistled and sprayed more of his cleaning liquid on the glass before rubbing a cloth on it, paying attention not to leave any traces.

Mundy’s eyes followed his friend’s gestures but his mind was somewhere else, far away.

The short man went to his bin, he tied the bin bag which happened to be full and-

“Bloody hell, you’re a genius!”

Mundy exclaimed and his friend got startled.

“W-what? I’m just takin’ the trash out, man. They’re comin’ to collect them tomorrow.”

The Aussie looked up at the clock hanging on the wall.

“Roight, some lunch first and then… Eddy, you still have some binoculars somewhere that I could borrow?”

The short man in his usual denim overalls nodded.

“Yeah, gimme a minute, I’ll grab’em for ya, but M tell me, what is it? You got a lead? You know where Johnson’s alligators are?!”

The binoculars passed from a pair of hands to the next.

“Not yet, thanks mate.”

The tall man dashed out of the shop and jumped in his van. He grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water in the nearest shop he found before driving to a public parking lot. Now, he needed to kill time. He stopped the van’s engine and bent his seat back. Mundy put his hat on his face and let the next few hours disappear in a nap.

#tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #sniperspy #SBT

10 notes · View notes

thearkhound · 4 years

Text

Tsubasa Masao on Metal Gear Acid character designs

Source: Postscript of MGA (waybacked)

The following is a translation of five blog posts made by Metal Gear Acid character designer Tsubasa Masao for the now-defunct “Postscript of MGA” blog, where he provides commentary on the designs he provided for the game. Most of the images were thankfully preserved by the waybacked version, except for the ones on the fourth blog post, which were taken from the still active gallery page from the official Metal Gear Acid 2 website. I’ve moved Tsubasa’s commentary of Snake’s main weapon of choice in MGA into the first section regarding for better flow and also added a model sheet of Snake from MGA2′s official gallery, since the sub-section looked odd without any images..

Solid Snake

The first thing we talked about Snake was wanting to change the impression that people had of him up until now, which resulted in the long-haired Snake we see in this game. Thinking about it now, perhaps it was better if we had kept usual hairstyle. As for his costume, we decided at the earliest stage to keep his usual sneaking suit from previous games, so it is what it is.

We had a request from Mr. Shinkawa to make the XM8 into Snake’s main weapon in the game. It’s a gun with quite a unique appearance, as you would know if you had seen the original. On the illustration we added a lot of over-the-top extra parts to the gun, but in retrospect I think it would had been better if we had left it as it is.

Teliko Friedman

Teliko was the first character we designed for Metal Gear Acid. Since even the scenario was still in its tentative stages, I couldn’t quite grasp an image for her yet.

For the face I was told to make her look like a “female Rambo or something like an Uma Thurman type.” I wasn’t too crazy about doing a female Rambo and wondered about what I should do, which is how I ended up with the design we’re seeing here. I was conscious of Uma Thurman’s role in Pulp Fiction at the time. She had a sort-of coquettish feeling, don’t you think?

Since I don’t like loose-fitting military clothing, I decided to make her silhouette tightly around her body. Afterward, I thought about the character’s stance and came up with the sneaking suit style.

A new-type of sneaking suit.

Built-in muscle strengtheners in one part that increases speed and strength.

A new-type of bullerproof inner wear made by the U.S. Army. Protective clothing consisting of aramid fiber soaked with polyethylene glycol.

And so on.

Model sheets for Teliko Friedman. There are gimmicks not shown in the game such as stun knuckles and muscle strengtheners.

I wanted her gun holster to flutter on her character model’s hip while she moved, but we abandoned that due to the small screen size of the PSP unit.

As for the coloring, since she was being paired with Solid Snake, we decided to dress her in a brighter color to contrast with Snake’s black sneaking suit.

Teliko was designed to be a very typical heroine, so we thought it would be best if she didn’t have too many idiosyncrasies.

What do you think?

Roger McCoy

He’s the character who supports Snake and Telico in this game. We wanted him to have a very different outward appearance from Colonel Campbell.

We experimented with various patterns such as an elderly version of Roger or a black version of Roger, before we settled on the finalized design.

We didn’t have any particular aim with his concept, but we thought it would be better if he was more intense than previous versions of the Colonel character.

Afterward, I wanted his silhouette to have a peculiar characteristic, so I decided to give him a crippled leg and a cane to walk with. (I don’t know if this is reflected in the game though).

Rough sketch for Roger McCoy. Instead of a suit, he originally wore a military uniform.

Alice Hazel

I was ordered to make a pretty girl with ESP abilities. I was told that she has a personality that clashes with Snake’s, so I drew her in a sassy matter, but then I changed her to be more unemotional, or rather coldhearted.

For her attire I thought just having her wear a school uniform would be too plain, so I gave her a bomber jacket atop her blazer, which she received from Roger. The gun she wields on the second half of the story is hidden inside her jacket.

Since the characters in Acid are involved in a story where they’re either, manipulating someone or being manipulated by someone, I have her holding a doll as a hint that’s she pulling the strings from behind. Originally it was going to be a ventriloquist doll, but that would had been too obvious.

Alice’s initial design. “I thought she should be wearing glasses like Tommy February. I liked how it came out, but I had to redo her design after they decided to go into another direction.”

Alice’s finalized design. You can see the direction of the character took a 180 degrees turn. The characteristic doll remained until the end.

Lt. Leone

It was settled that he would be a “retro soldier”, “have the physique of a bear” and “wields an anti-tank rifle.” Based on those ideas, we decided that his gear should be vintage. But was this really the image of an old-fashioned soldier?

After that we wanted to make his silhouette stand out, so we had him wear a cloak on one side. This cloak takes the form of a Ghillie suit so that it could stand out when he moves rapidly during hand-to-hand combat.

His image was set in stone in the very early stages, so there weren’t any particularly big changes made afterward. By the way, in the international versions they added a voice clip of him chanting “pansies! pansies!, which made him stand out even more.

The left image is an early rough sketch. The right image is a proportion specification designed for reference. “In regards to his body shape, I didn’t want him to just be bigger, I wanted him to stand out as a giant even without the contrast.”

Colored model sheet for Leone. His systematic characteristics and clothing are established to the minuet detail.

From Leone’s model sheet. He was drawn with a fighting image and it seems he was initially expected to have close quarter attacks.

From Leon’s model sheet. The initial character image is almost completed at this stage. His kick attack was rejected due to limitations with the character model and such.

Elsie & Frances

Originally they were supposed to be characters who lived in VR space. But when the scenario changed during the middle of development, they were no longer virtual characters, but ventriloquist dummies who exists in the real world. Out of all the characters, I think they’re the ones who had their image changed the most from the early stages.

Their manipulating strings are established to be wires that could be attached to the walls or ceilings (like a spider’s cobweb), so that the dummies could be controlled from a distance.

We wonder if we made their relevance apparent in the miscellaneous cutscenes.

Finalized design for Elsie and Frances. Shown here is Frances, the elder of the two sisters. Elsie, the younger sister, has a cracked face and a speech impediment.

William L. Fleming (aka Gary Murray)

The boss character of this entry. Since he was established to be an excessive neat freak, he wears a fancy brand name suit under his shabby coat. His shoes are also shiny brand names. His coat is tainted with the oil fluids for Metal Gear KODOQUE.

Since it was said that there was going to be a cutscene where he shoots a gun, he was given a belt under his coat, which is equipped with a gun holster during his Fleming persona.

Originally he was established to be a middle aged man, but since he was going to be a boss character, he ended up looking quite younger than he was intended to be. Because of story reasons, he was a difficult character to make him look unique with his clothing, so we were concerned in making him stand out.

In fact, we had the idea of outfitting him with a powered suit similar to the one worn by Solidus and having him directly confront Snake and Teliko. Mr. Shinkawa gave me various ideas, such as “give him a METAL BLADE!” But because complications with the story, those ideas were abandoned.

Model sheet of William L. Flemming. There are detailed notes such as the differences between his true self and his Gary Murray persona. It seems there were plans to have him directly engage Snake and Teliko.

La Clown

La Clown’s backstory is that of an “assassin who specializes in disguises and hypnotism.” Because of this, the character’s design doesn’t differ much from Telico’s. For the illustrations, La Clown’s proportions were changed in subtle ways.

Line art illustration of La Clown

Enemy Soldiers

The jobbers of Metal Gear Acid. The small fry soldiers. This time they wear desert camouflage, giving them a middle eastern atmosphere. Perhaps they have a dusty unfashionable image.

The model sheets of the enemy soldiers. The first sheet is a soldier from Leone’s unit. The second is a member of the Genetics Army. The designs of the enemy soldiers this time are based on MGS2, since it’s set in a similar period.

Model sheet of the Genetics Soldier. “Because it is an equipment for measuring data, there are stuff like experimental cords and labels attached to it.”

Changes in Concepts

Initially the concepts we got from the scenario were horror and suspense. Specifically there would be ghost characters that would appear in key scenes, the boss characters were going to be cyborgs who served Fleming, and so on...

After days and months have passed (or maybe it wasn’t that long), the horror aspect became more downplayed and the scenario was changed to a more suspenseful one in all aspects. The colors red and black are used a lot by many characters in general, but that was actually a remnant from the early stages when the horror aspect was more emphasized.

Although MGS served as the basis, there were many twists and turns in the art designs. Because of the lack of flexibility in the development schedule, I was concerned about keeping the Metal Gear world in place while somehow giving Acid its own color. After all, the world Metal Gear is quite deep.

Model sheet of Minette Donnell. “Because she’s a malicious girl, she wears deep red.”

Rough character designs from the early stages of development. The first character is Dr. Flemming and the second is Senator Viggo. “Originally Viggo Hach was just an old man who suddenly became rich.”

More initial designs. The first is a member of the FPH. The second is the Genetics Soldier Boss. “The Genetics Boss would’ve been an underling of Flemming who would’ve supervised the other Genetics Soldier. He would’ve covered his whole body with armor-like muscle strengtheners.”

More rough designs of boss characters. They too were also underlings of Dr. Flemming. The first design looks like a bee woman with poisonous attacks, while the second looks like a giant man with sludge attacks.