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tnystrk-exe · 3 years

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Repentance

Your choices led you here.

AN: Honestly I couldn’t get the idea for the last scene out of my head.

“Alright team,” you heard Cap through your ear piece, “time to go home.”

And you did. Without a second thought.

Tony had sent out a relief squad and different aids for people. He had hoped to help. There was no after party this time around. But you understood why. Especially after finding him in his lab, staring longingly at a bottle of scotch, a screen of names scrolling past. The mission had put him through enough to want to cancel his promise of good behavior.

You walked over to him. Replacing the bottle with a cup of coffee you had brought down. “Tony, you did what you thought was right.”

“That’s not enough for them… their families. For what? A fucking whim of ours?”

“I know,” you sighed, walking over to a sink and pouring out the bottle, “I think about it too. What we could have done. What shouldn’t have. But in the moment with you, Bruce, and I all in the lab it felt right.”

“You saw the recording of New York. How couldn’t I try, something? Anything.”

A shiver went up your spine as you remembered the helmet’s footage. As much as the team had done. It would have all been over if that ship had touched ground. “We need protection,” you confirmed, “but maybe not an A.I.. Honestly, we’re probably just going to have to rely on finding good people. You should look for them instead of…”

“Are you still going to that memorial?”

“Yeah, but not as an Avenger.”

Then it all happened. After Sokovia, you all knew in a way that pulling at the right thread would tear the fabric of the team apart. Too many conflicting thoughts. Placing blame on one another. The Accords. Not wanting to be held down by a contract even though you could work your way through to the top if you could play your cards right.

None of you had ever imagined it would end like this. Broken apart. Teared open and bruised.

You had found Tony using the suites intertwined tracking systems. A tape played on repeat. The Winter Soldier, murdering two people. On a second viewing, you finally realized who exactly they were. Bile rose up your throat, you needed to find him. That just left finding him as Steve had left him. Cut up, tears- that you wouldn’t dare mention- streaked his face as he angrily shoved off pieces of his suit. A wound he had tried desperately to heal ripped open again with betrayal to act as salt.

You didn’t take away his bottle that night. Hell, you joined him.

“I’m still against this, YN,” Tony sighed, looking at you with that tired look of his, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Tone. It just feels like something I need to do. For myself more than anything.” You placed the last of your things in the suitcase. “As much as I hate what he’s done. There are things I can understand.”

“He broke us apart.”

“We were already divided. As much as we tried to be a family, do all this shit together… The second there was pressure we went into our normal fractions. Honestly, it’s a damn wonder we trusted Double Agent over there.”

He nodded, understanding that you had made a couple of points. “That was a bad call, but hey you can’t win everytime. ...I’m glad you chose this side if anything.”

“Yeah sap, what would I do without your cash?” You joked, “We’re in this together old man. Thick and thin. You know that. Anyways, by the time I come back, I fully expect a ring on Pep’s finger.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hap’s been waiting for you for the past hour. Get going, come back safe and all that jazz.”

Walking through the prison was nerve wrenching. Honestly, even though you had planned out the trip, you really didn’t expect him to agree to the visitation. You followed the guard down the long, dim corridors, not knowing exactly what you’d do or why you were there.

“Here you are. Everything is being monitored.” With that he opened the door and slammed it shut behind you.

“Zemo,” you greeted when you laid sight on the man.

“Avenger,” he said it more as an insult, “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“I owe you an apology,” you stated simply, “I really am. What you went through, it wasn’t anything I expected to happen.”

“I can accept it if that's what you wish, however what use does it have for me, really? You people do as you wish without a thought of what happens to others. People get hurt and killed. Then you’d all go home, back to your obnoxious towers and celebrate that none of you were killed. How many have taken your place?”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, looking at the ground, “I deserve that.”

“Did you celebrate the destruction Tony Stark created?”

You laughed humorlessly, “He always gets all the credit for that, probably because of the tin foil wrapping. It’s a shared burden, I’m afraid, Bruce and I worked just as hard to create Ultron. No. We didn’t celebrate.”

“Then we’re even. You took my family, I tore yours apart.”

“It’s not the first I’ve lost. Knowing my luck it isn’t the last.”

He tilted his head, signaling you to go on.

“We were some dumb kids at the time, maybe 16 or so. The community we lived in was an absolute shithole. Things would get swept under the rug. People would get hurt, killed, used for fun, just because that’s what people felt like doing. So what are a group of good for nothing orphans going to do, none of us really had much hope. We became vigilantis of sorts using ourselves as bait regularly. Did what we had to do. But we were young, dumb and things always have a way of catching up with you.”

“I’m very sorry for the pain you experienced in your youth.”

“Like you said…” you shook away the memories,you weren’t here to rehash those years, “The point is Zemo, I need you to know I do feel for you. I’ve looked into you and you were a good man, probably still are under all the pain. When we made Ultron we had hopes for the best, after what happened in 2012, we all knew something bigger would happen. Tony and I share that, we get paranoid, but how can’t you be when shit hits the fan like that,” you snapped, “It was just a matter of how, when, if we’d be prepared… and in all of that we failed. So honed in to the details of what we could do, we were blinded to what we would cause. Zemo, no amount of forgiveness would ever clear me of the guilt of just how badly we failed you.”

Zemo stared at you, searching for any sign that this was all just a show. When he finally decided you were sincere he gave you a nod.

“There’s something I want to ask of you…”

That’s how you found yourself in Zemo’s family grave. Each step brought you closer to three of the deaths you helped cause. His son was in between his wife and father. The bag of sweets at your side was held limply as you found your way to the right grave.

“Hey, buddy,” you set the Turkish delights on the grave, “Your father said he’s sorry, he couldn’t do this for you this year. But don’t worry, I’ll pick it up for him.”

A shuddered breath escaped you as you thought about the child in the ground. Only able to conjure up a picture of a younger looking Helmut Zemo. A soft round face, light brown hair that was combed neatly just to be messed up seconds later, eyes that questioned everything in the world around him. He should’ve been wreaking havoc, running throughout the home with his father chasing after the excited child. Instead of here, where your choices had placed him.

Sitting down on the ground you fished out the book Zemo had instructed you to get, “Now, I believe your father said he had been really excited to read this one to you. It was one of his favorites.”

#Helmut zemo #tfatws #helmut Zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader

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scriptaed · 3 years

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his side, her side finale | 00:00

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

No matter how infinite the pages could write itself, in the way that he catches her stealing glances from across the room or the scalding spark imprinted on her hand by the touch of his own, there really are only three versions to every story: his side, her side, and the truth’s side; and in your unsolicited albeit self-justified defense, the truth is, what was once seemingly perpetual is now merely trivial. The imagery that once had you kicking and screaming into your sheets at night, the fleeting moments that were shared by both but valued by one, and the inevitably incessant burden of jealousy brought upon by a fervent want that could never be had could only have been falsified by a break—spatially, temporally, and heartfully. The mind can only tug so much at one’s strings; and yet, to be bent, only time could prove possible.

...and that time is exactly what is needed by all.

her side;

“Are you joining us for dinner tonight, Y/N?”

“Huh? What?” your ears perk at the sound of your friend’s call.

“Oh, there she goes again,” your other friend interjects with the roll of her eyes. You almost collapse when she swings a hand over your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your ears checked?”

“No, but I might have to get my eyes checked,” you joke, despite pulling in all the performance points you could win with a disdainful scan up and down her less than professional attire. Thankfully, your act is gleefully extended by her cheesy gawk of an expression. Putting up a merciful pair of hands in the air, you laugh, “hey, in all seriousness, it’s not my fault you guys keep drooling over boys.”

“Uhuh, so you’re trying to tell us that boy talk is what’s putting you to sleep?” your friend’s accomplice crosses her arms, raising an accusatory pair of brows.

“Yeah,” you say much too seriously so you throw in an airy laugh, “I mean, there’s more to life than boys, y’know?”

“Right, like…?”

“Like…” your voice trails off because, for some reason, your mind goes blank as you attempt to recall your lifestyle from your previous hometown. “Like… hanging out with friends! With you guys!”

“Gah! You’re only able to say that because you have dozens of boys chasing you around the office. Us, on the other hand, time just… it just keeps ticking…” the two of them sigh in synchronization and you feel the heat of her arms retract as she shakes the hand of her one and only sympathizer.

“Psh,” you can’t help but grin throughout the frown elicited by their vivacious performance, “you guys have plenty of time. Just enjoy life for now and I’m sure you’ll find someone along the way.”

“Wait, but seriously,” her voice suddenly rises from her previously sullen state, as does her head on her friend’s shoulder. She looks you dead in the eye, and, honestly, you almost feel as though your privacy had just been invaded. “You really haven’t ever liked anyone before?”

“Uh…” you scatter through the disarrayed files that were your buried memories, eyes squinting at the sun that peeks through the clearing sky after a day full of rainfall. “Elementary and middle school don’t really count… too busy studying in high school… college was full of fuck boys I couldn’t care less for… and at work…”

The more that you hear yourself ramble, the more the reality of your lonesome future settles into the already burdened shoulders of yours.

“At work? You mean here? Or do you mean your last job?”

“Well,” you frown, trying to recall every male colleague that had piqued even the tiniest of interest in you; and as the two of your friends lean in, you start to lean back, despite the charging light bulb that flickers from the unlocked recollection of two years ago. “There was a guy who liked me and told everyone at work that he liked me, which I thought was really weird… nice guy, kind of a nerd, but I didn’t like him that way. Who else? Uh, hm—”

—bzzz.

The vibration against your back pocket pulls the plug from your train of thought.

“Aw man,” you hear your friends curse in the background, “just when we were finally getting her to spill something.”

The name on your screen has your heart skipping with delight.

Yezi [5:20 PM] Hey, I know you’re gonna forget, so you before you do, we’re having dinner together tonight :)

“It’s okay,” your friend pats the back of the other, “there’ll be some cute enough boys for her at tonight’s barbeque, I’m sure.”

“Ah shit,” you curse under your breath, hastily typing a response before peering up at your friends like a deer caught in the headlights, “actually, guys, turns out I already made plans with my friend from home. I’m sooo sorry.”

“Oh, really?” the two of them gasp. “Isn’t that a two hour train ride from here?”

“Yeah, so I really got to go now,” your phone tumbles into your bag as you begin to widen your strides like a woman on a mission.

They shake their heads in unison, “no, no, it’s okay!”

“I’m seriously so sorry guys,” you say as you pant, the distance between you and your friends widening by the second and forcing you to whirl around as you pace backwards. “I’ll make it up to you next time and do whatever you guys want, okay?”

“Really? Anything?”

“Yeah,” your hands draw a wide, inclusive circle into the air, “anything.”

“Even a blind date?”

“You know what? Why the hell not?” you chime, whirling back around with your back on them and a smile hidden away. Skipping off into the opposite direction toward the train station, you exclaim nonchalantly, “new year, new me!”

Lately, either through a stroke of luck or a reset of a life in a new town, there’s been something spectacularly whimsical about tonight’s air; and when a zephyr passes by, lifting you to the tip of your toes to an invincible high and relaying the confuzzled whispers of your friends—

“—wait, it’s not a new year, it’s already April—”

—you finally acquire a two year long-sought sensation: golden.

“I can’t believe you almost forgot about our plans!”

“Hey, I had a reminder set on my phone just ten minutes after your reminder” you quip with pursed lips, “and I still made it on time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Yezi prims with a stern look plastered across her face, gesturing, “with your hair and clothes damp in rain and your face smiling like a wagging, clueless beagle.”

“Well… beagles are cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment?”

She frowns, ignoring your remark, “did you not check the weather forecast?”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“I forgot.”

“Ugh, you forget everything these days,” she plants a palm to her forehead before returning to her plate, “well, I’m glad that at least you’re so carefree nowadays. You’ve finally settled into your new workplace, huh? You look so happy now.”

“You talk—” it’s difficult to speak with food being stuffed into your mouth “—as if I lost a loved one.”

“Well,” she grits her teeth, as if biting her tongue, and proceeds to slice the slab of steak, “I wouldn’t say that’s too farfetched.”

Frowning, your words come out muffled through puffed cheeks, “whaddya mean by dat?”

“You can’t tell me you forgot about what happened last time you were in town.”

“Uh…?” you furrow your brows, tracing into a forgotten yet familiar field you had long neglected for your own wellbeing. Last time you were in town, last time you were working here, last time you went out on a company party, last time you walked through this town’s treacherously embracing frosty breeze, last time you were dining here, last time you got wasted, not just here but anywhere, last time you shed tears… all the last times of this town shared only one similarity, a similarity you had subconsciously left behind at some point in your transition between the past and the now.

“Do I really have to say it myself?” she leans in, concerned. “I don’t want you bawling your eyes out again…”

Did she possibly mean… him?

“Jeon Jungkook,” she blurts, “there! I said it!”

Her utensils clatter onto her plate as she tosses her hands in the air in mercy, almost as if bracing herself for the storm after the calm, observing you intently but warily; that supposed storm, however and ever so fortunately, never arrives.

“Oh,” you utter, words slipping from your lips like sand through a palm, “I’m not crying.”

“You’re not crying,” she confirms, astonished.

“It doesn’t… hurt anymore?” you almost ask yourself.

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” you utter, shaking your head. Just as she’s caught off guard, you lurch across the table to pinch her cheeks, “but that doesn’t mean I appreciate you bringing him up during a perfectly lovely night!”

“Sho—” she furrows her brows in combination to her squished cheeks “—he doesh make you shad shtill?”

“Well, he doesn’t make me elated,” you finally release her from your wrath, returning to stare downward at your food, “but I guess it makes me reflect fondly on the past. It’s kind of like a scar. I know how much it once hurt but I can’t feel it to the same magnitude anymore. Actually, instead, the happy, jittery moments are more vivid to me than the tears that were shed. Is that… odd?”

“Like… like what? Examples?”

Like when his arm bumped into yours for the first time on the walk after work, like when he discretely went out of his way to ensure your safety across the bridge home, like when he enamored over the ‘ripped abs’ of a fully nude female character design of an upcoming project whilst you stood awkwardly with a set of breasts in full display for the two of you, like when the two of you escaped to become the aloof, static noise of an unbefitting party, or like when he held you in his hands and kissed you at the stroke of midnight, the butterflies live on—even today—to shield you from the dampened blows struck by dull weapons of jealousy, insecurity, and remorse.

With time, the silver lining finally showed itself like a sun shining through after a stormy night. You’ve finally accepted the truths behind every weapon. She was pretty. They were pretty. She never wronged you. They never wronged you. They deserved his love. His heart belonged to whomever he desired.

He never badmouthed his peers and, as blunt of a man as he was, he never pointed out your flaws, even if that meant you would later return home only to find mascara flakes on your cheeks. He treated women like a gentleman, as contradictory as it may seem from his appetite demeanor; and while you fell for him for that, you also cursed him for that very reason. He didn’t owe you anything… up to a certain point until the lines were too blurred to decipher between the truth, the deserved, and the faulty. Be it Ji-eun or Jennie, you’ve come to terms with his relationships.

As much as your relations with him seemed to run on a fragile thread of fate, your time had run out and the window of opportunity had been shut—but hey, at least you had fun.

“Are you… smiling?”

“Hm?” you look up to find her staring at you in concern. Blinking blankly, you quickly clear your throat and retract the smile you had subconsciously adorned. “I am?”

“I… don’t know if I should be worried or not,” Yezi downs another glass of iced water and you’re about to follow suit until she almost chokes on her water, “hey—isn’t that Jennie over there?”

“Jennie?”

You almost curse at Yezi for teasing you over bygones that should’ve been left as just that, but she really wasn’t lying. You can’t believe your eyes when you whirl your head around to look through the darkened tint of the restaurant’s window panes. You might have never really spoken to Jennie, but that figure is undeniably Jennie.

“What is she doing?” you squint, struggling to grasp a clear vision of her silhouette under the dim, orange street light beside her. You could only catch a hint of her side profile but those cheeks and unique sense of fashion definitely belonged to her; on the other hand, the constant stumbling and the hand to her head, almost as if she’s about to collapse at any second, did not resemble her. “Oh, oh, hold on, wait, whoa—we should help her!”

You scramble to your feet and bolt out the door whilst Yezi takes care of your abrupt leave with the restaurant staff. A freezing blast of wind welcomes you as soon as you step into the sidewalk but you waste no time. Abandoning the cold behind you along with the past, your mind is set on aiding the collapsed woman on the streets.

“Hey! Jennie, hey!” you call out to her as you sprint to her side, dropping to the floor without caring to notice the shards of glass that consequently cut your knees as you carefully roll her limp body onto its back and away from the sharp hazards. The pain has you wincing and seething under your breath, but the conditions of the person lying before you has you even more concerned. Her skin is even paler than usual. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in an evident struggle. Your taps against her shoulder gradually become frantic shakes until all you can hear is your voice and the whispering commotion of bystanders behind you. “Jennie! Can you hear me?!”

“Y/N!” you turn around to find Yezi peering down at you from above. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but something’s definitely not right,” you say as calmly as you could, “call 911. I’ll call her family.”

“Got it,” Yezi nods, immediately dialing the numbers on her phone but pausing in the midst of the ring to face you, “wait, do you know anyone from her family?”

Gritting your teeth, you frown as you dig into your memories, “...no, I know she might have had a boyfriend back then, so he might know, but I don’t know if they’re still together and I don’t even know his number…”

“Do you know anyone who might know her boyfriend then?”

“Well…”

The ending trails of your voice are whisked away into the returning wind of that fateful night. Hands gripping at your phone and eyes staring at the stranger yet familiarity of a name that glares off the screen, it’s an inevitable force that has you stupefied yet marveled at the revival of a tugging string that ties you to him through the strangest, most meandering paths.

his side;

It was almost like a fever dream. Her name plastered across his screen and his eyes squinting through the glaring light that illuminates his room. It had been two years since he had any contact nor mention of her; and now, out of the blue, in the midst of a nap after gym session, she calls him for help. He couldn’t believe his ears when he first heard her voice, believing it all to be another one of those numerous dreams that had him regretting his past or questioning his choices. He shot straight up in bed, phone grasped and glued to his ears that blocked out the computer fan that ran in the background.

Even now, after throwing on a sweater and jacket and bolting out the door in a state of rescue, he can’t quite believe his eyes; because there she sits on the hospital bench, in the signature slumped boyish manner and the confused blank stare off into the distance that still has him quirking a smile in remembrance every once in a while. In her favorite white blouse and her only slack of black dress pants, it’s almost as if nothing had changed, almost as if she had never left.

It’s almost like time had bent to his incessantly subconscious pleas and reversed its works; but the almost will always be an almost, for as long as those hallmark vivacious eyes and those rekindled mien of ambition lives. As far as Jungkook knew, she left with a dreary heart and returned with a fiery purpose.

Despite all that, he can’t help but notice the way she fidgets in her seat, nearly sinking and avoiding all contact the second his presence had been noticed. Instead of the sheepish flickering stolen glances of the past, he finds himself at odds with the way she fights to return the locked gaze of his eyes. She fought so hard that she might have forgotten how to speak, rendering a soft chuckle from his lips because the girl he endlessly dreamt of might still live after all; and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook has to put forth the effort to fill in the silence.

“Why did you call me?” he asks plainly as he stands before her.

“Well, I didn’t know any of her friends except you…” he watches as she fidgets with her hands, gaze falling to the floor before returning to him, “are you going to visit her? I think the doctor should be okay with it if you’re her close friend.”

“No, Kai will be here soon,” he explains, finally bending down and placing the bottle of rubbing alcohol beside her on the bench. “I have other shit to attend to.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles. The evident surge in annoyance amuses him that he just can’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. Turning her head, she continues, “you must’ve had plans with Ji-eun tonight. Sorry for the trouble.”

This is it. This is the moment that replayed on repeat like a broken tape in his dreams. This is his chance to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon the confessing girl who cried her eyes out on the cab home that one, indelible night.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air with the exception of the unscrewing of a plastic bottle and the gentle return of the bottle against the metallic bench, which is then followed by another staggering silence.

“We’re not that close and I’m not dating Ji-eun now.”

The girl turns with the quirk of a brow, especially when she spots him kneeling before her with a soaked cotton ball. “W-Wait what? Wait, shit, ow.”

“I don’t talk to Jennie as much as you think,” he states as a-matter-of-factly and continues to gently pat the cotton against the wounds on her knees. After hesitantly placing a band aid over the wound—something he had never done for anyone else nor for himself who just “sucked it up”—he finally lifts his gaze to interlock with hers, observing intently as if to soak the reality of it all in now before the inevitable tape begins to replay for the near future. “I broke up with Ji-eun before you left.”

“And...” she utters slowly, “why are you telling me this?”

Just like in the pool on that one night, her challenging eyes never budge and neither do his.

“I thought the past you would’ve liked to know,” he states. Head tilting to the side as if to get a better look, he remarks, “shit, you don’t look away anymore, huh?”

“Why would I?” she quips, snorting and finally breaking contact to stare off to the side. “It didn’t matter if I knew or not. It’s not like we were a thing.”

“Really?” Jungkook hums, gathering the scraps of cotton and paper before standing to his feet with a genuine soft sigh. It’s hard to brush off the two year old sinking sensation in his chest for something so nonchalant, but he manages to do it like he always does with that stoic look on his unreadable face. “Cause I thought we were.”

“What?” she gapes and he only gazes firmly back at her. “Why? It’s not like I… liked you.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at the ceiling for a brief second, lips pursing as he concludes the cards on the table: the unapologetic albeit risky truth or the defensive albeit purposeless self-deception. Unbeknownst to her, Jungkook had all the cards in his hands.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze and shrugging, “and it’s not like you liked me.”

Peering down at her from above, the boy’s crooked grin gradually settles into the silence along with the usual unreadable mien that he wears on the daily. “How would you know?”

Finally turning to return his gaze, she raises a brow at him before uncrossing her arms and standing to her feet. One step, two steps until she stands before him as close as she could recall on that night, she utters the one mutual truth of the night.

“Because you never told me.”

The brief silence filled with tension seems to last an eternity, yet neither of the two could take their eyes off the other. A rush of thrill intermixed with panic floods his blood. His fight or flight system screams at him to obey the very laws he had followed all these years but his mind warns him that change is a necessity for this euphoric heat that radiates from this very moment. He’s never quite felt like this before: throat knotting and heart leaping nearly out of his chest.

“Let’s—”

“—I need to catch the last train home,” she blurts, quickly taking a step back to distance themselves.

Like a magnetic force that she is to him, her retraction almost pulls the breath from his lungs along with it.

“What?” he frowns, trying to steady his breath. “It’s 10 right now. My last ride is at midnight.”

“Yeah, well mine is at 11 and I still have to walk there,” she shrugs indifferently to the entire ordeal—something that Jungkook takes to the heart.

“What?” he mutters, “the station is right next to this hospital.”

“What can I say? I’m a slow walker,” she prims, bowing her head and waving her hand to bid farewell. “Thanks for the band aid and all the help today. It was nice catching up. See y—I mean, take care.”

He stands there in silence, too stunned by the constant turn of events. Distracted by the crestfallen weight in his chest elicited by his shattered hopes, Jungkook raises a hand in response to her pressed, upcurved lips. He can only mumble a seemingly indifferent, “...see ya.”

There she goes—as gracefully as she had reentered his life and as fleeting as she had left for a second time. All this time he knew his side of the story: growingly regretful, discovering a yearning he never knew was within his capabilities, and helplessly pondering over a past he could not change and wondering if she did the same. At some point in time, those feelings became a fragment in time and that person he wished she knew became a version of his present self. He moved on, he forgot the magnitude of the pain, but he never quite came to terms with what it all could have been.

And all at once, the very moment he stands before her, the past him whomst he had perceived to be temporary comes flooding back into reality—flesh, fervent, and feelings of an immensity he could never have been prepared for—and if he were to be honest, he thought it would have been the same for her.

He never really knew her side, after all; but at the very least, he desires to hear it from her, herself. She never missed him, she never thought of him from time to time, she never woke up from a dream of him so vivid that it felt so real that she was left with a melancholic loneliness in the air—those words would close the gap in his chest.

If there’s one thing Jungkook had absolute control over at this very moment, it’s the last chapter of their shared novel in time and this is not the conclusion he imagined.

Before he knew it, Jungkook finds himself sprinting down the train station. Across the coldly lit hallways, up and down the stairs instead of the ‘shitty, slow escalators,’ and cutting through the nearing midnight breeze of the platforms until the breeze finally brought him to the last unvisited area, his daunting final destination.

Checking his watch, Jungkook’s chest heaves as he holds his hands to his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. It’s well past 11 now, nearing midnight, and he’s standing at the platform in the opposite direction of her new hometown. To the mere bystander, this platform really didn’t make any sense; but to Jungkook and his inkling, perhaps by a disheveled and desperate state, every twist and turn of the wind brought him right where he believes he belongs.

Puffs of his breath mark the airy night as he watches his last ride pass by the rails before him. Every cart, every seat, he scans them all. No one. His heart sinks with each check, each flicker of the eyes, and he begins to curse himself for his state of delusion until the last cart of the train flashes by to reveal his finale.

And as if by some sort of invisible string, life had somehow led him to her once again.

Because there she sits, across the wide yet surely crossable gap of the railway, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting for him all this time.

Jungkook stands there, stupefied by the works of fate, “why are you—”

“—hey, Jungkook!” she calls out to him, voice echoing across the vast, empty station. “What were you going to tell me back at the hospital?”

Taken aback by her question, Jungkook chuckles to himself in utter amusement; and as if by the magic sifting through the night, the nearby tower bells ring across the remaining distance between the two at the precise stroke of midnight.

“Let’s date!”

The boy’s zestful holler resembles more like that of a cheerful proclamation, for the way he holds his hands to his lips before throwing them freely into the air garners a giggle from his spectator. His voice projection accompanies the bells, perhaps too softly and thereby physically undetected, but she could hear him nonetheless.

“I liked you and I still like you so damn much, you dumbass!”

After witnessing the boy’s courageous display, the words she’s been waiting for but never knew she needed until their paths crossed once again for a limitless nth time slips from her like second nature, almost as if she’s practiced it in her dreams all this time. Her loud proclamation, however, slips beneath the bells like an accompaniment to a ceremonious work of fate.

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the platform, their confessions are far and wide and perhaps inaudible, but the dorky smiles adorning their lips as they gaze across at their inevitable final chapters serve to prove an undeniable fact.

Whether by sheer will or by this invisible string, whether by his side or her side, the truth is: their eternities will be forever tied, forever golden.

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wlntrsldler · 3 years

Text

champagne problems (j.p one shot)

PROMPT: Y/N has to leave and she leaves her boyfriend, James Potter, behind.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, angst

WC: 2.8K+

HP MASTERLIST

champagne problems (j.p one shot)

You sat nervously on the chair that Dumbledore had in his study. He called for you early in the day, waking you from your peaceful slumber in the arms of your boyfriend, James Potter. You had to carefully untangle your limbs and crawl out of bed to meet with Dumbledore. It’s urgent and confidential, his note said.

“Thank you for coming so early,” he cleared his throat, making himself comfortable on the seat opposite you. “This is a matter of life or death, Miss Y/L/N. I’m glad you treated it with such urgency.”

You nodded, “Of course. When I agreed to be a part of the Order, I meant it. What do you need me to do, Professor?”

He looked down at his feet, as if afraid to bear the bad news. You’ve never once seen him like this and it only furthered the sickness in your stomach. It must really be a large ask, “As you know, the Dark Lord and his followers are getting more and more relentless.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, thinking back to the people you’ve already lost and how you could tell that people were starting to lose hope in the Order’s cause.

“After the attack on the McKinnons, we realized how ruthless he and his followers are.”

The images of the McKinnon family flashed in your mind. You were the one to discover them. Your best friend since 11, laying on the floor cold, surrounded by the bodies of the people you considered family. It still haunted you everyday.

Dumbledore sensed your discomfort, “My deepest condolences.”

“Thank you.”

“But as I was saying, after that attack, we know now that everyone is in danger,” he continued, “This is where you come in. You’re Muggleborn, correct?”

You let out a sound of confirmation, “Yes.”

“Right. We need you to be in the Muggle world. You need to be out there protecting Muggle families of Order members. We cannot have them out there unprotected, not when there’s this war going on. They’re helpless. Someone needs to be out there with them. Someone who understands them but also understands our world.”

“I’ll do it,” you said with no hesitation, “Of course I’ll do it. I agree with you. Someone should be out there with them.”

“I had no doubt that you would agree but there’s a catch.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What is it?”

“You cannot tell anybody where you’re going,” he explained, leaning close to whisper the next set of directions, “Muggle families, most of them don’t know what’s going on and the members of the Order would feel a sense of comfort to know that there’s someone— one of us— out there at least looking out for their families. You need to be discrete. And nobody, and I mean nobody, can know what you’re doing.”

“I understand, Professor.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” he repeated, voice harsher this time. It sent a shiver down your spine, hearing his authoritative voice directed at you, “I mean nobody. Not even Mr. Potter.”

Your face paled, gulping down your words. You were shocked. You thought the secrecy only applied to the Muggles you were protecting, not the other wizards or witches. Especially not James. You stood up, “Why can’t I tell James?”

“One must be blind if they can’t see that Mr. Potter would follow you into the jaws of death to make sure you’re safe,” Dumbledore half-heartedly chuckled. He followed your movements and stood up, “But we simply cannot have him follow you or contact you. There’s too much at risk. He will try to follow you, but we need him here. He’ll try to contact you but there’s a large chance that the Dark Lord and his followers will intercept it.”

You remained silent. Beats passed before you even opened your mouth to speak again and when you did, no words came out. You were angry. You were upset. You were speechless because it seemed like Dumbledore was asking you to do something that you swore to yourself and to James you’d never do. You paced around his study, not caring that the Professor you once looked up to was waiting impatiently for your answer. But it hit you half-way through combing through the facts that no matter what you said, Dumbledore would still send you out there anyway and James would have to hear some convoluted story from him instead of you.

“You’re asking me to break the heart of the love of my life by telling him I’m leaving him so he doesn’t ask questions…” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes, “So I can save the lives of innocent people?”

He looked at you blankly, only realizing then that that was exactly what he was asking of you. He nodded, “Yes.”

“Well I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“No.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes tightly. When you opened them again, you saw the sun shyly peeking through the curtains of Dumbledore’s office. James would be waking soon. With a heavy heart you asked, “When do I leave?”

“Now.”

You shook your head, wiping your eyes as your tears fell, “No, no, tonight is Euphemia’s and Fleamont’s wedding anniversary party. I can’t leave, not until I talk to James.”

“Miss Y/L/N, this is an urgent matter.”

“I know,” you snapped, exhaling through your nose harshly. You stared at Dumbledore, not wavering in your stance, “I know it’s selfish but I’m about to be selfless for Merlin knows how long. I’m about to break the heart of the love of my life and he might not ever forgive me for it. So I’m going to be selfish for one more day. With all due respect, Professor, you can keep your protective charms on them for a few more hours.”

He didn’t say anything else. You took it as a sign of his agreement and you quickly apparated out of his study and back into the Potters’ home. You landed on their front porch, studying it very carefully. You felt sick as the realization that it may be your last time in this home forever, hit you. The war was brutal and it takes everyone it can. There was no reason as to why it would spare you.

Before you entered, you wiped your stray tears from your cheeks and mustered up a smile as you heard clattering from behind the door. You knew the Potters were up being the morning people that they all were, not to mention the fact that tonight was a busy night for them. With one last sense of normalcy, you twisted the doorknob and entered the house you’ve grown to call a home. Instantly, you smelled the scent of fresh breakfast and a pot of coffee that Fleamont should win awards for.

You hung your coat on the rack and wiped your shoes on the rug, scraping away the bits and pieces of the conversation with Dumbledore that lingered.

“I don’t appreciate waking up alone,” James called from halfway down the stairs. His hair was in disarray under his hoodie. He wore pajama pants that were discarded on the floor when you first left this morning. He sported a playful pout on his lips, stopping right in front of you, “Where were you, my love?”

“Just went out for a walk,” you lied, “Couldn’t sleep.”

James wrapped his arms around you, placing his chin on the top of your head, “Well next time, wake me. We could’ve gone on a walk together and I wouldn’t be worried in the wee hours of the morning, wondering why my darling girlfriend has left me all alone.”

You leaned up to place a loving kiss on his lips, wiping away the pout that was once there, “Sorry, love. Next time I’ll wake you.”

“Good,” he smiled, intertwining your fingers as he dragged you to the kitchen where the wonderful aroma was coming from. His thumb absentmindedly drew shapes on the top of your hand, making your heart plunge deeper into your stomach. You squeezed his hand. You’d be giving this up.

“Morning!” Euphemia beamed, already beginning to eat the feast that was prepared for the morning, “Are you two ready for the dinner party tonight?”

“Oh, that’s tonight!” James exclaimed, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “Godric, I’ve forgotten.”

“Shame that you’ve forgotten such an important night,” Fleamont shook his head, hiding his smile behind his coffee cup, “It’s an occasion, James.”

He blushed, ducking his head in hopes that you won’t catch it, “Yes, I sure hope so.”

You were too preoccupied with the conversation that you had with Dumbledore this morning to even notice the strange way that James was acting or the grins on his parents’ faces. You merely nodded along, not really listening to their clues and conversations. You smiled at the right places and hummed at the rest. You offered no real contribution at breakfast.

Soon enough, the day began to move faster and faster and it was nightfall. Members of the Order started to trickle in the party, congratulating the Potters on such a happy and healthy marriage. It looked beautiful. There were lights strung everywhere and the food was delightful. People were at ease for the first time in over a year. It was a nice distraction from what was happening outside the safety of the Potters’ home. It was well-needed.

You watched with a heavy heart as James danced with his mother. His parents celebrated their wedding anniversary with a small get together, believing that everyone deserved a little bit of fun in the midst of the heartache of the war. You sipped on your champagne, timidly, watching your boyfriend from the sidelines.

Sirius smiled at you, nudging your shoulder with his, “Hey, how are you holding up?”

“Fine, I suppose,” you replied, shooting him a tight-lipped smile. You looked down at your feet, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. “Marlene would’ve loved this.”

“She would’ve,” he agreed, taking a sip from his glass. “I miss her.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stood in silence, with your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He didn’t dare move, knowing that the weight that he was carrying was just as big of a burden on you. Sirius moved his glass to his opposite hand and took it all in one gulp. After the song ended, another slow one began and you felt your cheeks flush as James made his way over to you.

“Not trying to steal my girl are you, Pads?” James joked, approaching you and Sirius.

“Tried to in the past, Prongs, but it seems she only has eyes for you,” Sirius winked, moving away to leave you and James alone and to bother Remus. “See you guys later.”

“Bye, Siri,” you waved, placing your glass down on a nearby table to wrap your arms around James’ neck, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Potter?”

“Dance with me,” he murmured into your skin, holding you impossibly close.

“You know I can’t dance,” you sighed, although you weren’t making any moves to get away from him.

“Good thing, I can,” James replied, already beginning to sway you back and forth, “Just follow my lead, darling.”

You let yourself fall apart in his arms, letting go of all your apprehensions for the duration of the song. James hummed the melody in your ear, rubbing circles down your back. His cologne filled your senses, making your stomach turn. He kissed your temple, his lips lingering there longer than usual before he pulled away.

This was going to be difficult.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, hoping that the chatter of the guests would silence your sniffling. You couldn’t help but release the tears that have been threatening to spill since the night began. Your lips quivered as you peppered kisses on his exposed skin. When the song came to an end, you sucked in a breath, intertwining your fingers with his, before leading him away to a spot away from everyone else.

James followed you without question, trusting you with every fiber of his being. You calmed yourself down before you stopped in your shared bedroom. James had a large smile on his face, still love-struck with you. You forced yourself to smile as you sat on the unmade bed.

“Y/N,” James began, holding your hands in his. He was down on both knees in front of you, cupping your face with his unoccupied hand. James kissed your lips softly, letting the buzz of the party dull in the background. He focused on nothing else but the feeling of your lips on his and the love that was coursing through his veins. “My love, my darling, I love you.”

James pulled away, the same smile still on his lips. He let go of your hands and your face and dug one hand into his pocket. When his hand emerged, a small ring sat in the middle of his palm and your heart shattered. You clasped your hands on top of your parted lips as you began to bawl— not for the reasons you were supposed to.

He was still oblivious to your plans and he chuckled tearfully, moving the small band in between the pads of his thumb and his index finger. James began to speak, “Y/N, I love you more than anything in the world. I knew from the moment that I met you that I was meant to be with you and only you. My love, you make this gray world so full of color and I thank you everyday for giving me a reason to keep fighting. I w—”

“James, stop,” you cried, shaking your head furiously.

James furrowed his eyebrows, confused, but continuing, “No, love, let me finish. I-I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with yo—”

You pushed him off far enough to step away. Your tears were streaming down your face by now, hands shaking as the poisonous words dripped from your tongue like venom, “James, I don’t want to be with you.”

The only sound that could be heard was of the ring falling from his grasp. The sound of the metal hitting the ground was so loud, it almost masked the sound of James’ heart breaking into pieces. He shook his head, clamoring to get to his feet. He stumbled a few times trying to reach you, the ring on the floor long forgotten.

“W-what?” he shook his head, tilting it to the left, as if pleading you to explain his misery to him, “W-what are you talking about?”

You gulped, “I don’t want to be with you, James. I’m sorry, I-I can’t marry you.”

“Why not?” James whimpered.

The brokenness in his voice almost made your knees give out. You leaned against his desk for support as he walked closer to you. You swallowed, hating yourself for having to lie to him, “Don’t, James. I just… I’ve changed and I don’t want this anymore.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“I-I..” you looked at his face, a part of your heart breaking off with every sniffle. He looked utterly ruined and you knew you caused it. You were at a loss for words so you just shook your head and shrugged.

“You fell out of love with me.”

No, I could never, you wanted to yell. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 11 and I’ll never stop until the day I die because James Potter, you are the love of my life and I hate the way I have to hurt you to save the lives of others. I don’t know how I’ll be able to live with myself knowing that I saved people’s lives at the cost of the life of the one who means the most to me.

James took your silence as confirmation. He fell back on the bed, accidentally kicking the ring to your foot in the process. You picked it up, ignoring the pang of guilt in your chest as you examined it. Engraved within it were the words: “Mrs. Potter.” It was the ring Fleamont gave Euphemia when he proposed.

You looked down at the floor, placing the ring on James’ desk. The sound that the ring made when it was placed down made James cringe and he looked away to hide the tears rolling down his face. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it after realizing that there was nothing you could say now to make things better.

You opened the door and walked downstairs, staring longingly out the window to watch the party in full swing. In the corner, you saw Dumbledore, nursing a glass of champagne. His eyes met yours and he tipped his head, knowing exactly what just transpired in your absence from the party.

With one last look up the steps, perhaps debating if you should run back up there and tell James the truth, you shrugged on your coat and walked out of the Potters’ house for the last time.

**NO LONGER DOING GENERAL TAGS BUT I WILL BE TAGGING BASED ON THIS SPECIFIC POST

i’m planning on publishing a sirius version!

@whoreforfredweasley @thetierdslytherin @strawberriesonsummer

#frances writes #frances song fics #frances x taylor swift x harry potter #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #James Potter #james potter fanfic #james potter one shot #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter x yn #james potter x y/n #the marauders #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

Text

Comte AU Event

Aight because I have Comte brainworms (is this a surprise to anybody I sure hope not), there’s something I’ve just been thinking about a lot ever since completing one of the story events a month ago:

The cover art being very sexy aside, I naturally did Comte’s story event and I have yet to move on. Namely because of one specific line. (Disclaimer: Keep in mind I don’t mean to say I’m an expert, I just translate for fun--I don’t have the same prowess as an official linguist. That being said starts the circus music let the show go on)

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

This is the line I want to dive into, but before I can really talk about it, we need proper context.

Event spoilers below:

This event is a little different since it’s an AU, so the mansion and its residents don’t exist. (Comte lives in the mansion on his own, but it’s not the same one we know.) Instead Comte, Leo, and Arthur are stand alone suitors who have turned MC into a vampire. Because MC has no clear memory of how and/or why it happened, MC is seeking vengeance against her paired hottie--and fully intends to end their life one way or another.

Aside from how sexy revenge is and how much I love the enemies to lovers trope, Comte’s entire storyline gave me more life than I can humanly convey. Here goes nothing!

So it begins with MC knocking on his door and Comte answers it and literally just stares at her silently like some kind of Furby. MC starts out by saying she’s been trying to narrow down the bastard that ruined her life and her search has finally brought her to his doorstep. She basically demands the truth from him and he just keeps. Staring owlishly (lmao). He eventually relents and tells her that a conversation is much better held inside, and invites her into his home to talk.

She's sus as hell but enters the house, and he asks if she's had blood. This stops her in her tracks, shook, and her monologue drifts to explain a few things. When she woke up years ago, a new vampire, she had instructions to approach the Rouge/Blanc dispensary for what she needed. The staff there told her that everything was paid for, and she continued to receive support from an unnamed benefactor. She asked them for the identity of this person, but they were beholden to customer confidentiality. As such, she's been searching for information to narrow down her target for years until she finally found him tonight.

Despite the years it doesn't mean she's any more comfortable with her new existence. She notes that she still tends to stick to drinking Blanc--only drinking Rouge (in other words, blood) when she has no other choice. When Comte puts the Rouge on the table, she becomes notably unsettled. She's thirsty, but she won't concede to his request that she drink it; she refuses.

(I feel like he can probably tell because he's her sire/because of his experience with vampires). Comte--naturally--refuses to let her go hungry, so he knocks it back and kisses her to get her to drink it. He lets go as soon as she's swallowed it, and doesn't resist when she shoves him off. She rails at him about how awful he is for doing that, he agrees. She asks if he was the one that killed her parents, he confirms with blasé indifference. She's fuming quietly, but she notes that he doesn't really look happy or triumphant about it. What he's saying isn't reaching his eyes; his gaze is distant and sad. And it's confusing her. Isn't he supposed to be the enemy?

She's lost in her thoughts and unresponsive until there's a loud cry from outside the house, the shriek of a nearby owl. She snaps out of her daze to see that she still has his hand in a vice grip from when she shoved him off, and his skin is blanched--she cut off his circulation from the pressure. She releases him, startled, but he says nothing.

She's trying to sort out what's going on, and doesn't have enough information to really piece anything together. She wants to hate him but things aren't making sense. Why did her parents have to die in the first place? Why does he bother keeping her alive at his own expense? Even just now, what he did felt more like an attempt to get her to eat than anything else. Why isn’t he more malicious? This MC is desperate for answers, and she says as much: "What are you hiding…?"

Comte doesn't answer her, just averts his gaze and remains silent. MC decides she won't do anything until she learns the full extent of what happened the night she was turned. Furthermore, she's well aware of Comte’s status being a problem. If she goes too far without proper motive, the aristocracy could come back to bite her in the ass. (The implication here is that she's more concerned about being wrong and living with that regret, rather than any necessity to protect herself. The state of his gaze--the melancholy there--keeps eating at her. Until she knows why, she won't move forward.)

Comte is shocked that she demands to live alongside him in the mansion, but he doesn't take any issue with it. He says the mansion is pointlessly huge for one person anyway--she's welcome to stay. Either way she wins with this arrangement: either she gets the truth or she finds an effective way to destroy him by the end. And so their little cohabitation begins!

After a timeskip, MC recounts how she's been spending her days in the mansion. She's been tidying around the house, both in the hopes of finding evidence and/or in the hopes of repaying all the years of living on his assistance. He doesn't stop her, letting her do as she pleases and keeping his distance.

One day, she's about to step out into town to grab some groceries. Comte approaches at the front door, cautioning her to be safe--there have been many reports of scuffles/dangerous encounters. MC brushes him off, unsurprised he knows what's going on in town. He's very well connected to the aristocracy, and she notes that he's often at dinner gatherings and parties when he's not home. She insists she can't let her guard down, that he can't be trusted; no matter how kind he is to her face.

Another day, he asks her to attend a ball later in the week. He tells her she's under no obligation to stay with him while they're there, just that he wants her to take some time and relax--to have fun. She tries to insist that going to something like that would be more stressful than fun but he won’t hear of any protest, walking away before she can fully reject the outing. (Comte, an idiot, speed-walking out of the room: and that is what we call finessed). She sighs, thinking she'll be nothing but a burden to him given her lack of knowledge about events like that. She doesn't really know the proper etiquette or how to dance, it’s completely out of her depth.

Surprising no one at all Comte buys MC a dress and accessories to match regardless, and when she comes down the staircase leading to the front door he's awestruck. He tells her she's beautiful and she's miffed by the raw sincerity, trying to remind herself that he is eeeeevil. He knows how to talk to women given his status, he's just smooth talking... (She's trying to convince herself, essentially.)

And so they go, and she's a bit of a wallflower. He leaves her alone--doesn't want to bother her--while she sticks close to one wall. Several men ask her to dance, but she politely declines. Her monologue explains that, given what she is and the fact that she’s only living for revenge, she sees no merit in trying to court human men. She sees it as irresponsible and inevitably disastrous, and…

[Given the nature of what I am I just can't. I can't fall in love with a human man. Besides, the only person I really want to dance with is...as much as I hate it, my line of sight keeps drifting to Comte. Suddenly he looks up and meets my gaze, but I hurriedly look away--my heart pounding in my chest. Why. In a room full to the brim with people, why do my eyes keep looking for him. Whatever, time to go cool off for a bit.]

She leaves the ballroom--mortified at herself--to get some fresh air. Not five minutes into trying to figure out whatever the hell is going on with her shitshow of a life, a man appears asking what she’s doing alone. And da da da d a Zelda treasure chest sound effect he whips out a knife covered in blood and tries to stab MC. Naturally, because I’m an idiot, my first thought was:

TW: knife attack

TW: homicides by serial killer

But it turns out our local serial killer remains nameless in this event, so I can point no fingers. MC is panicking about needing to run and frozen in place from the shock, but Comte appears to pull her out of range--knife sinking into his back. He doesn’t react much to the violence as the attacker runs away, yanking out the knife and focused on checking her for any wounds. She’s still reeling from how quickly he reacted, and he reassures her (probably at the sight of her bewildered/worried look) that law enforcement is on alert in the area. They’ll find him, they’ll arrest him.

She tries to ask him why. Why would he protect her like that? His first instinct was to take the hit and ensure her safety first, and it doesn’t make sense. Comte reassures her again, joking that purebloods are sturdy. See? The wound’s already healed c:

[Even though I've been spending all this time trying to get my revenge on him, my heart stopped when he was attacked. As if to reassure me, frozen and speechless, Comte smiles gently. This person.......I can't do it. I can't kill him without meaning, without being sure of the truth.]

"...Comte, I can tell you're a good person. What happened that night, so many years ago?" Because even now, he's still protecting me. "Please...tell me the truth. I want to know."

[I know this isn't the time or place, but if I don't know I can't worry about him with a clear head.]

TW: human trafficking and drugging unconscious

Comte concedes and goes into what happened that night so many years ago. Apparently he was acquainted with her parents long before the incident, and they fell into debt as a result of gambling. He approached their home in the hopes of paying them a visit, checking up on them, only to encounter tragedy. They intended to sell their daughter off and the man they ended up making a deal with more or less slaughtered them all in cold blood. The reason MC doesn’t remember any of this was because her parents drugged her the night it happened. No consciousness, no resistance.

"In that room suffused in the odor of blood and despair, I found you, MC." Her pained, struggling cry is what led him into that room--and seeing how desperately she was fighting to survive, he turned her against all his better judgement. Feeling certain she would hate him forever for the choice he made compounded by her terrible circumstance, he bailed, leaving her instructions and resources to survive on her own.

"Sold off by your own parents, attacked by a serial killer, seconds from death. I thought....I thought telling you about it would only bring you pain, that it would leave you numb from the shock and despair. That's why I kept it from you.”

"...After turning you, I was consumed by regret. I felt certain you would hate me for the choice I made. So I left." [When I don't know what to say, he keeps talking.] "But I was worried about you even so. I tailed you quietly, making sure you were getting along okay. I was fully aware you wanted to kill me for what I'd done. Even so, I wanted to check on you."

And that is where the line comes in.

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

He admits that he fell in love with her after a point. And she’s baffled, considering she’s been looking for every reason to tear him apart--assuming he was the perpetrator when he actually saved her life. She protests immediately, asking how he could possibly feel that way after the level of vitriol and judgement she’s levied against him when he was only trying to help.

"That's not true at all. At heart, you're a very kind young lady. You haven't raised a hand against me all this time. And even when you considered me to be a repulsive presence, you were worried about me."

At this MC is conflicted--because his words are a further extension of his equanimity. He’s well aware that he brought about all the confusion by not being honest, but it’s also clear there was no ill intent involved in that decision. He was concerned; hitting her with that level of misfortune and senseless terror all at once could have been incredibly destructive to her health. (This isn’t to say he made the ‘right’ decision; I don’t think there is any right decision in the face of such a complex situation. Given he takes full responsibility for what happened and does his best to help her, I think that’s a fair response.)

This is essentially where the common rt ends. But because I’m feral for Comte and enjoy talking about him, I’ll finish up the summary and then go on to do my analysis.

After that riveting assault, MC is feeling very lost about how to move forward. Her fury at Comte’s injustice has all but evaporated, which means a complete re-evaluation of how she’s going to move forward from now on. Does she continue with her revenge anyway, still angry for the dishonesty? Or does she try something new?

If you do the premium end that means choosing to forgive Comte and climb him (as he deserves). Therefore I, being an intellectual, chose to ride him into the sunset.

The premium end begins with Comte taking her to another ball because the first one kind of went to shit and he feels bad about it (retraumatization was not in the plan...). And so MC basically does the same thing as the first time, just vibin and taking in the scenery, thinking things over. Comte’s concerned about her not having fun, so he approaches her to ask if she’s feeling okay. He makes it clear that he really doesn’t mind if she dances with someone else--even if he admitted his feelings for her. She doesn’t owe him anything, and he has no intention of imposing on her future.

"Whatever it is you choose to do, I don't mind. I just want you to be happy"

[This person is so, so gentle...His words penetrate deep and settle with warmth over my heart, my chest light.] "Comte I.......I don't want to dance with anyone but you." [I still don't know what to do about the future, but for now I think following what my heart is telling me is the best move]

"!!!....well then, if you insist..."

Comte’s just:

He’s beyond shocked, but accepts her invitation when she confirms it’s what she wants to do. Leading her in all his infinite grace, MC marvels at his ability to dance so elegantly--even with a partner who’s deadweight, like her. She also finds it astounding how easily he makes her forget what they are, how easily she just enjoys the moment; no turmoil, no lingering in the worst of her miseries. She’s just...having fun? For the first time in so very long.

[Comte murmurs in the short distance, clear remorse on his face--as though he can't help it.]

"MC, it's kind of you, honestly. That you'd give me the time of day, that you'd agree to dance with me. But I...I'm the one that turned you. There's no denying or escaping that fact. If it's you, I'm ready to accept any consequence. If you want me gone, you're free to attack me. If you just want to be as far away from me as possible--to live your life in peace and solitude--I will do everything in my power to help you."

[He said it as if he was trying to convince himself. Like he was trying to remember why he couldn't assume more of this single dance together, why he couldn't let hope emerge from this single shared moment.]

[.....I'm not that kind, Comte. I asked because it's you.....Feeling his warmth beneath my hands, I come to a decision.]

There’s a timeskip, and then MC--being the badass that she is--knocks on Comte’s door the night of the crescent moon. He lets her inside more than ready to accept her judgement, whatever it may be. MC asks about his feelings, seeks to confirm that he still loves her before she confesses herself.

"Comte. Comte you said--that you loved me right?"

"Yes that's correct...no matter how much you might hate me, these feelings won't change. I love you."

[Hearing those words again sets my chest on fire. And I decide to tell him my honest feelings.]

"I love you too. But......I've held a misguided grudge against you for so long, is it okay for me to love you now?"

[Can that misunderstanding really be forgiven? Am I allowed to love you? Comte's eyes widen, and the breathtaking gold of his eyes shimmer/waver.]

"...shouldn't that be my line? I mean even despite the circumstances, I still made the choice to turn you :o Can you really forgive me?"

"...If I'm honest, I still have a hard time drinking blood and I'm a little scared of an immortal life. But......I think if I could spend that eternity at your side, I could find the means to smile again. And....the thing is....I also want to see you smile, to make sure you remember how to smile."

".................." [Le Comte stared at me, before extending his hand. And he hugged me so, so tightly.] "MC......."

[In that single word all the raw emotion of ten years can be heard. It was an indescribable sound--one that spoke of an unimaginable, impossible love. This person loves me so very dearly.]

The event ends with them biting each other as proof of their bond, essentially a vow to stay together moving forward. It felt very much like the shared act of biting was a promise of love, how vampires might get married or commit to each other romantically. The summary essentially ends here.

Here’s where the semi-meta comes in, because I literally just can’t stop thinking about the implications of this event.

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

I just...I just don’t even know where to begin with how hard this line hits. Comte’s MS conveys this sentiment powerfully too, but there’s just something about them choosing to emphasize it yet again. The reason Comte falls in love every time has to do with his MC’s strength, her ability to surmount remarkable obstacles with so much poise. She’s deeply in tune with her reality, but no less relentlessly positive. She won’t burden others with her problems, and she’ll do everything in her power to move forward in constructive ways.

Even when every day was a living hell. Both Comte and Leonardo perceive eternity to be something of a curse; an endless sentence. Whether it means suffering boredom, reliving tragedy, or going nigh numb from the loneliness--being an immortal creature isn’t always sunshine and rainbows.

And that’s exactly why I think he fell in love with this MC? I don’t think his feelings would have run half as deep if it was just anyone. He doesn’t strike me as the type to get attached easily. Because if he’s going to have a life partner, he needs someone who's going to be able to roll with whatever life throws their way for conceivable lifetimes. Somebody that loses heart quickly or is easily prone to delusion would suffer eternally, and the last thing he wants is to subject a person to that. MC gives him hope certainly, but she’s also emblematic of a kind of fortitude he both needs on a personal level and she would need to be beside him. It’s interesting because it’s a responsible choice on his part, but also just very befitting of his nature. He’s somebody that staunchly believes in the ability of good to prevail, but he’s also realistic about it. He knows doing the right thing isn’t necessarily easy; he does it because he could never live with himself if he did otherwise.

(Think about Comte’s approach with Jeanne. It meant years of being on the receiving end of hatred he didn’t deserve, but he didn’t mind if it meant Jeanne could find a way to heal. It’s not the most practical or immediate solution, but it is the most restorative option. Comte doesn’t care that he spends years living alongside Jeanne’s outspoken displeasure and even violent outbursts. Why? Because it’s all a means to a greater, better end. If he has to suffer a little discomfort, he’s willing to make that sacrifice. That’s the thing with Comte; intentionality is everything. Comte’s intention is to help. Whether that’s a short or long process, a smooth or rough process, he’s going to do what he can within his means.)

That dynamic is reflected in his respect for this MC who is filled with fury on behalf of all the life that she lost unfairly, her relentless pursuit for the truth of what happened to her. Notice, she’s more interested in truth than retaliation. She refuses to lay an intentionally violent hand on Comte until she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was worthy of being on the receiving end of that retribution. Who does that sound like? If you guessed Comte himself, then you see where I’m going with this. What MC and Comte have in common is that they have a sharp emotional fortitude that they keep under tight, rational control. They will react with sizable passion or hurt or warmth--but their externalized reaction will vary depending on the situation. If it’s a minor annoyance, they have the patience to diffuse and try to alleviate the problem. If it’s on a larger scale or it’s an egregious violation of their personhood, then they up the ante accordingly.

Think about it. MC appears on Comte’s doorstep full of righteous rage and even when he confirms what he’s “done,” she hesitates. Her emotional intelligence is telling her something isn’t aligning properly; something isn’t quite right. She forgoes immediate revenge for proper answers instead. MC and Comte have this kind of balance, where they are more than happy to hear people out--but there is a limit to that propensity. Push them too far? They’ll bust your head. I guess I’m particularly interested in the way Comte seems to yearn for that kind of identification with a partner. Somebody who has similar values: not merciless, but also won’t bend when a situation requires confrontation.

All that being said, there was one more aspect of the story that I was endlessly interested in. I’m going to link the post here, in that it’s tangentially related to this meta; it really made me better able to articulate what I mean to say.

“Never let generosity hold hostages; courtesy is an essential tool, but a cruel master.”

I’m gonna let that sink in for a moment.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, because it’s very rare that I read something once and I’m forced to read it several more times before I begin to understand it. My interpretation of that line is to say that benevolence can showcase your good will to others; it can be a reliable proof of good character, and a way to help someone. But the problem comes when people do conventionally/perceived generous things with the explicit intent of repayment by some measure. While it is only responsible to care for others as they care for you, you shouldn’t make impossible sacrifices with the expectation that the other person is indebted to you--especially if the other party had no ability to consent to that sacrifice.

How does this apply to Comte in this event story? Er, in almost every way humanly (vampirely?) possible, in my view. Comte turns MC into a vampire after seeing her plight, largely because he gets the impression that she was fighting for her life--had impossibly survived against all odds. The situation is complicated though. MC wasn’t fully conscious when it happened, so she doesn’t have a proper understanding of how everything went down. So what does Comte do? If he can’t bear to face her or reveal the truth of how horribly she died, he at least gives her every means to survive and makes sure she’s doing okay since she’s technically an orphan now. He doesn’t interfere with her life, or demand recognition for the life he gave her. He fully understands that she wasn’t able to properly consent to his decision in that split second moment, and even if she had he doesn’t see it as a debt she owes him now. He was able to help save her life for at least a little while longer, and so he did. It was as simple as that. He had the ability, she had the need. That’s the end.

But Comte’s emotional acuity doesn’t just end here. Even when she comes after him to kill him, he doesn’t respond with anger because he knows full well he hasn’t explained. Sure he’s sacrificing their relationship (the ability to get along on half-decent terms) but if it means she can find a reason to live, then so be it. He doesn’t lord that sacrifice over her head by any extension; he’s just sad about it because he thinks she’s a wonderful person, and he doesn’t want to be estranged from her. But in his view, her needs supercede his wants.

He doesn’t force her to do chores around the house during her stay, she does it to keep herself busy and search for the truth about his intentions. He even asks her to take breaks and look after herself first, more concerned with her well-being than the state of the mansion. At the ball, he doesn’t force her to linger around him or dance with him despite inviting her there and giving her the dress/jewelry to attend. He leaves her alone as she wishes, only glancing at her to make sure she’s doing okay. When he takes the hit from the violent stranger--a knife straight to the back--he jokes about being s t r o n k, never once blaming her for the wound he sustains no matter how brief.

He explains that he didn’t tell her the truth because it was incredibly traumatic, and it’s only in the safety of the moment--after years of having conceived of her own selfhood beyond the event--that she’s able to take the weight of what happened without falling apart. The premium end just keeps hammering this shit home. He openly tells her she doesn’t have to dance with him at all, that she doesn’t owe him anything just because he likes her. He’s aware it’s unrequited (he thinks) and he doesn’t go on and on about all the sacrifices he made for her with the expectation she’ll reciprocate. He just did what he wanted to do, nothing more. If she feels the same way by some miracle, that’s amazing! If she doesn’t, as it would be valid if not, that’s fair too; no hard feelings.

She has to be the one to invite him to dance and insist. She’s the one that smiles fondly when he’s telling her that she can choose whatever outcome she pleases, even if it means wanting to live as far as possible from him. There is no guilt trip, no expectation, and no pressure. She has the freedom to leave or stay. It is entirely dependent on her own will. For the first time in a lifetime of loss, her agency is restored to her. That’s huge.

She even admits that she feels bad about being so angry when he really was just trying to help, now that she can understand what he’s doing. And he’s openly shocked to hear it. He had no intention of expecting or asking for an apology. He understands it was his own imposition, both biting her and obscuring the truth, that led to her setting her mind on vengeance.

I’ve probably hit it home harder than necessary, but Comte just feels like the epitome of good will in the best way possible. One can argue he’s a little selfish for keeping the truth from her for so long, but honestly? Given the horrific trauma of her situation--and his personal fear of making her miserable for an eternity when all he wanted was to give her a second chance away from all that hurt--I feel like his reaction was closer to considerate and reasonable. Comte doesn’t sacrifice anything he isn’t unwilling to give, or anything that would cripple him to give. Furthermore, he doesn’t make love out to be a kind of 1:1. He recognizes that while he might know her well, she doesn’t know squat about him. And, as such, he doesn’t expect her to trust his intentions or reciprocate his feelings in any capacity. It’s just a delightful surprise when she does. When he tells her that he loves her that first time, it’s an explanation. Not a guilt trip. He knows she won’t be satisfied years of protecting her simply because “he wanted to” and he promised her the truth, so he tells her. Not only that, in the aftermath he repeatedly reminds her she isn’t bound to him. She commits to him before he relies on any kind of active bond between both of them.

I don’t know, maybe I think too hard about it, but I feel like the older I get the more I see a shortage of this kind of fine-tuned caring about the other person in a relationship. I guess I just enjoy seeing a man give a woman her health and agency without treating her wellness/happiness like it’s a burden to his life? First and foremost Comte really is concerned with her self-actualization before his feelings can have any place in their relationship. And even when he does confess his love, it isn’t a way to force her to feel indebted to him; it’s an attempt to erase any false pretenses. MC loves him, not because she has nowhere else to go, but because he’s proven himself time and again a worthy companion. Always putting her first, always worried about her feelings, paying such close attention that he sees her to the core of who she is despite her iron front--kind, beneath all that hurt. They spend so much of this event really listening to each other despite such difficult circumstances, and it leads to a deep and abiding love against all odds. And I find that incredibly moving...

Oh and, before I forget? Let me circle back for a moment:

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

The best part about this event is that--while Comte says this about MC--this is also precisely the reason MC falls in love with Comte too, even if it’s never stated outright. Because despite how lonely and tired he may be of eternity, no matter how many troubles he’s facing himself, he never stops trying to help and support others (namely MC) in any way he can.

Drops mic

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp jpn spoilers #ikevamp meta #ikevamp au event #comte propaganda #fangdad propaganda #i love him so very dearly #this event just made the feelings come rushing back #can't have five minutes without comte giving me heart palpitations huh #i feel so personally attacked #anywho i hope yall enjoy this wild ride as much as i did #minnie finna peace out and sleep for 70 hrs #**dives into bed beside comte**#rambles #not incorrect quotes

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

The Cowboy - Part 11

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) – highly suggestive scene and the angst train is back in action for this part

Word count: 2470

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

The celebrations continued even once you were back in Blayne. News travelled that Jaehyun had come in fourth with his score at the rodeo, earning him a cash prize and a qualifying ticket. When his truck hurtled down the main street, the evening was brighter than usual.

You peered curiously at Avery and then at the diner’s lights. “Shouldn’t that be closed by now?”

“They’re waiting for us,” he mentioned with a loose grin, and you blinked blankly. “To celebrate!”

“Oh! Right, of course. Everyone knows you’ve done it.” Glancing over at Jaehyun, who had been mostly silent for the ride home, you gave him a small smile before swallowing down your emotions.

Once you had pulled away from that life-altering kiss, Jaehyun had been taken in one direction and you in the other. He had interviews to do, and people within the circuit to meet with. Although the sun had still been out when he had finished his run, dusk had swooped in and carried it away by the time you were finally loading back up into the truck.

There was so much to talk about with Jaehyun.

“We won’t stay for long,” he announced when he parked the truck into the free spot outside the diner, and a small gasp left you when you found the place bustling with people.

Avery smirked. “We’re a tight-knit community. We celebrate everyone’s successes like this.”

“And everyone’s misfortunes too,” Jaehyun muttered, plastering a smile on his face before opening the door to the truck.

You hesitated to get out, and Jaehyun turned back to look at you questioningly. Rubbing your neck, you pointed awkwardly to the party. “Should I come in or wait out here?”

“Why are you even hesitating? You’re part of this world now.”

Still unconvinced, you took the hand he offered to help you down and then nodded softly, feeling rather subdued despite the happy atmosphere.

The noise once you were all inside increased tenfold, party poppers and streamers going off around you both. Jaehyun laughed and held out his arms to the heavens. “Looks like I’m still pretty decent, huh?!”

And then you lost track of all the conversations that began around you. Jaehyun was proudly talking about his run and Avery had shown everyone the recorded clip of it. You nodded and clapped along when prodded to join in, but remained on the outskirts.

It was foreign for you to see so many people come together like this to support each other. Sure, you had friends and family, but even then, it was never like this. A text to say congratulations when you got a promotion from your parents or some quiet drinks with a few friends to celebrate an award you had received. Nothing as loud as this.

You realised you craved this more than what you had back home. The community here was one that cared about each other. Even if they gossiped endlessly and had no filter at times, each person within the diner cared about the one they sat or stood next to. They had grown together, shared their burdens and prevailed against the odds as one.

It amazed you how much you still had to learn about Blayne even after living here for a couple of months.

“Y/N, did you enjoy the rodeo?” a voice asked, and you turned, smiling warmly at June.

“It was quite the experience.”

“You look rather exhausted.”

You nodded once. “A little.”

“Jaehyun, can you run Y/N home now?”

“Oh no! This is all about him, and I’m fine. Honestly.”

Jaehyun was at your side almost immediately, and he grinned. “I bet this is all too much for Miss City here. Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“But-!” you exclaimed as he gently tugged you out of the seat you had managed to secure earlier, dragging you to the exit with a hasty farewell. He opened the door to the truck and helped you in before rounding the other side and climbing aboard.

You stared at him. “You don’t have to-”

“My Mum is a gem, isn’t she?” he stated with a small smile, waving to those inside the diner. “She always finds ways for me to escape.”

“You mean her coming over to me just now was…?”

Jaehyun grinned. “Thanks for saving my butt tonight. I get really uncomfortable after an hour of being praised. It feels foreign to me.”

“Why? You’re the golden boy. No one can touch the Jung’s.”

Jaehyun smiled sadly as he started down the road. “Attention isn’t something much that I enjoy.”

“It sure looks like you did at the rodeo,” you mentioned, and Jaehyun shook his head, changing gear on the truck before reaching for your hand.

You could tell he had been craving your touch for some time.

“I wanted to have some time with just you earlier than this.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I need to be anywhere else.”

Jaehyun sighed. “Don’t you have people waiting on you though?”

“People where?”

“Back in the city. Your work colleagues, your friends, your family. They’ll need you.”

“I miss them, for sure. Especially Natty. But it’s not like it is out here. Relationships are different.”

“We’re different?”

“Well I’ve never met a cowboy in the suburbs,” you teased, and Jaehyun chuckled.

“What you said earlier, what we did, I get it was the heat of the moment. A different atmosphere than what we both usually-”

“Are you backing out on me, Mr Cowboy?” you asked firmly, and Jaehyun glanced at you several times before stopping the truck in the middle of the country road.

“I’m giving you an option if you want to take it.”

“Didn’t you give me that once you ducked under the bar and came to my side?”

“You’re serious?”

“You don’t think I could love you already?” you proposed, staring intensely at the man beside you.

Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, only to close it a moment later. He grinned. “You’ve rendered me speechless.”

“Why? Because you hoped I didn’t?”

“No, I hope you fall madly for me.”

“I’m well on my way,” you confirm, and Jaehyun shook his head incredulously. “What? Has no woman ever told you that they like you?”

“I’ve never felt deserving of it, no.”

“You and that self-worth of yours,” you muttered, reaching over to cup his jaw in your hand. Jaehyun caught your gaze, and you smiled. “I love you.”

“I don’t think that’s ever going to get old to hear.”

“You’ve not said it back once,” you pointed out, and Jaehyun chuckled.

“You’ve been waiting for it, huh?”

“Normally most people describe it as one says I love you, and the next says it back. I’ve seen enough movies about it,” you mentioned as Jaehyun finally started to drive again, soon heading down the start of your driveway.

“Claim? How come you sound as if you haven’t said anything like this before?”

“Because I haven’t,” you confessed, and Jaehyun stared at you then. You darted your gaze to the drive and reached for the steering wheel to balance the truck out. “Would you watch where you’re going?!”

“Would you stop making my heart swell so much?” he breathed, and you chewed on your lip quietly, Jaehyun taking back the wheel and gripped it tightly.

The energy was charged between you by the time he turned off the ignition and opened the squeaky truck door, you soon following him out.

Stretching your fingers out to try and loosen some of the tension coiling up within you, you both walked side by side up the porch and over to your front door.

“Well, if you’re exhausted, I should let you rest,” Jaehyun stated, and you nodded numbly, reaching in your purse for your keys.

“I had a good time. Thanks for taking me.”

“Sleep well, won’t you,” he said as you opened the front door, stepping over the threshold and taking hold of the wooden frame. You turned to glance back at Jaehyun, the deep way he looked at you causing your stomach to flip.

He didn’t move, however, and you slowly moved the door to close it until his hand reached out and stopped it, your heart now pounding with anticipation.

“I’m so in love with you,” he confessed hurriedly, stepping over the doorframe and picking you up in his arms.

You curled your limbs around him effortlessly, kissing him with demand as he shut the door, hands roaming and tugging at the clothes between you both.

It felt like too much effort to follow the path up to the bedroom, Jaehyun acting disorientated as he moved around the place, shedding your upper clothing in the process. Somehow you ended up in the kitchen, a moan leaving you as he propped you down on the countertop, your hands finally ridding him of the singlet that had been under his rodeo shirt.

He equally had removed your bottoms, staring at you in a way that made you feel like the only woman made for him. You embraced him as soon as he was close enough to, and Jaehyun groaned into your ear. “I’ve been in love with you for some time now.”

“It’s not a race. Just because you hold a record around these parts, doesn’t mean you need to prove you beat me to feel something back for you.”

“You’re something else you know that? Who knew you’d come into this town and change everything for me?”

“Whatever happened to the guy who told me I wouldn’t last a month?” you breathed out, arching your back as his mouth trailed from your neck to your chest.

Jaehyun smirked at you then, his hands moving to cup your breasts within them. “You made sure about adapting to this place.”

“It’s not so bad. I mean, sometimes I would kill for the accessibility of the city, and have a Starbucks nearby. The smell sometimes out here is something I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to either.”

“I feel there’s a but attached here,” he mused, reaching up to kiss your lips passionately. It was strange to be having such a conversation with the temperature and physical needs between you increasing.

Yet when you pulled back for more air, you beamed at him. “But I’m falling in love with this place, this town, and your people. I couldn’t imagine my life any other way now.”

The new week began, and you felt as if you were riding along on cloud nine. Everything was beautiful out here. You worked, you explored, and you loved long into the summer nights with Jaehyun. Your riding lessons continued, and now that you had the hang of loping, you would often feel exhilarated riding Roger. You felt free and empowered.

Blayne was more than just a small blip on any map.

Despite it all, you still regarded the reason you came here as a priority. With your plan neatly tucked into your briefcase, and slipping into one of your more casual business attires, you looked into the mirror of the bathroom and smoothed down your hair.

“Today’s the day,” you told your reflection, smiling brightly.

Everything about you felt ready right now. You had all the signatures you had sought out, and word had travelled enough for Mr Jung to reach out for this meeting to happen a day earlier.

Today you would get the piece of land you needed to start the redevelopment.

You drove to the Jung’s homestead with your game face on, your finger tapping on the steering wheel repeatedly. You hummed a tune to yourself and ran through the opening part to your proposal in your head. When you parked the car, you smiled brightly at Avery when you crossed him on the yard, but he didn’t return the gesture quite as genuinely.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” you greeted all the same, and Avery grimaced.

“I think you might need to prepare yourself.”

“Oh, I’m completely ready for this,” you assured him, but Avery shook his head.

“Not for your plan. Listen, Y/N, things have-”

“You’re here,” Mr Jung cut in, and you turned your attention to the elder, nodding confidently at the man. “Come inside.”

Following him in and frowning at Avery’s worried expression, you stopped midway in taking the seat across from Mr Jung’s desk when you noticed Jaehyun sitting in the one next to it. “What are you doing here? I can pitch my idea to your father alone.”

“Pitch your idea?” Mr Jung repeated, laughing hollowly. “I didn’t ask you here today to listen to any nonsense about the resort plans your company has. I have no interest in them.”

“With full respect, Mr Jung, I’ve worked incredibly hard with the people of Blayne to find a happy medium.”

“And just how many of them did you sleep with or was it just my boy here?”

“Dad!”

“No. I want to hear it from her. Was it in the plan you made to sleep with my son to get the land, to trespass onto what can never be yours, and fool this idiot into thinking you could actually have something together?”

You were rendered speechless, your game face falling away and crumbling into a thousand pieces. You tried to say something, anything, to not only prove your sincerity but to defend yourself against his vicious attack.

However, Mr Jung’s tongue wasn’t done yet, and he glared at his son, shaking his head slowly. “I should have left you to die in that fire you started. If this was how you wanted to end Blayne, I’d much rather you have gone up in smokes back then than face you and your betrayal now.”

The information stunned you further, and your head jarringly turned to the man now sobbing in the chair beside you. “You were the one to start the fire?”

“It’s not how you see it!” Jaehyun exclaimed, though to whom, you didn’t quite know.

Regathering yourself, you shook your head. “Mr Jung, please allow me to explain myself, as you requested earlier.”

“You have nothing of worth for me to listen to. I’d like for you to pack your bags and be gone from Blayne before sunset.”

“Excuse me?! Surely I can do something to change your opinion-”

Mr Jung slammed his fist down on the table. “Outsiders like you only cause problems for the people who breathe for this place. Get out and don’t come back.”

Glancing at Jaehyun, who was rocking back and forth in his chair holding his head, and then back at the resolute expression on the owner of this land’s face, you finally allowed your emotions to burst through, choking on the sob that followed.

“I’m so sorry!” you announced before turning for the door and running out it.

_________________

Part 12

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fictioninmyblood · 3 years

Text

Sacred Light

A/N: I have a hopeful heart so Erik is alive and redeemed. I also didn’t proofread cause I was trying to get all the thoughts out. Hope yawl like. Sidenote: life hit me like a runaway train literally the first day of this challenge so I’m mad behind now. Sorrrrryyyyyyyyy. I will write and post when I can.

Summary: When the Jabari rejoined Wakandan society, it would seem as if Bast was intent on keeping the tribes joined. M’Baku succeeds in capturing the heart and soul of Wakanda’s most sought after hidden light. Part storm, part flower, and some kind of wild woman, Qaqamba Bejide Achebe - Ramonda’s orphaned niece who grew up alongside the Udaku’s, yet as much out of the spotlight as possible - blooms under the affections of Hanuman’s chosen chief. There is a prophecy tied to the Achebe name - their daughters are said to be blessed by every goddess with a light and love like no other, something late King T’Chaka knew to be true - a prophecy that makes them as much of a target as their light shines. And she, is the last of their line with the gift, with the brightest light since the line began. Can M’Baku protect such a sacred light?

Warning: some violence, mentions of murder/death

Translations (via google translate):

nsọ ìhè - sacred light

umanyano oloyikayo - the sacred light union

It was the night of the joining festival, to commemorate the joining of both the Jabari and the Lost Tribes back into Wakandan society. N’Jadaka was out of rehab and somewhat integrating into his new home, having been pardoned from creating a civil war due to winning the Waterfall Duel which was his birthright. He stuck close to Shuri until M’baku arrived and Shuri ditched them both. Little did those two know, they would soon be walking into an ancient battle for the right of a sacred light.

------

Earlier:

A frightening chill ran through Qaqambe as soon as Queen Mother and King T’Challa declared the beginning of the ball of nations. He was here. The man from her nightmares.

“Shuri, get aunt Ramonda quickly. They’re here,” she practically screamed into her kimoyo beads.

------

10 years ago

“Please! She’s still a child, let her grow into her own like her sister did.” Qaqambe’s mother, Sade cried.

“She bleeds, that is growth enough for me to pluck my long awaited bud.” Adrian said.

“13 is not long enough! I beg of you, let me keep her for a little while longer! She deserves to be her own woman.” Sade said.

“Need I remind you of the outcome last time your family denied me my light?” he asked.

Sade vehemently shook her head and sobbed.

Adrian crouched down and spoke into Sade’s ear and said, “I have no quarrels getting rid of you to get to her. There is no one else left to keep her from me.”

Sade raised her head to look him in the eye and yelled her declaration, “That is what you think. She’s long gone and she will find her light keeper before you ever get the chance to lay a hand on her! You just wait, they will be the most formidable warrior on this continent, unwavering in their stand to be the shield of her light.” She laughed hysterically, scared of her certain death yet finding comfort in her dream of a fulfilled daughter with her destined to be.

Adrian stood up and sighed, straightening his unwavering cuffs.

“How unfortunate, I’d hoped to keep her from being orphaned…” he shrugged, “...have it your way.”

Adrian shot Sade in the head twice.

“Now you’re dead and I have to search all of creation for her. Such a pitiful sight, you could’ve been my mother had you ignored destiny and walked into the arms of fate. Now destiny’s got you dead.”

-------

Now:

Shuri rushed into her lab to find a frazzled Qaqambe pacing a hole into her floors.

“Mother is keeping an eye out at the party, if you stop your pacing you can help us find him much faster.” Shuri said.

“Find who?” N’Jadaka asked, startling both young women into head butting each other.

Shuri said, “Ow! Why are you sneaking around, cousin? Now you’ve caused not one, but two concussions at one of the most inopportune moments!”

N’Jadaka said, “It’s you who was sneaking around lil bit, we just followed you.”

“We?” Qaqambe asked as she locked eyes with M’Bkau, tilting her head back to take in his full glory as he and N’Jadaka walked up to Shuri’s station.

Suddenly, Qaqambe was no longer worried about her impending fate, for it seemed destiny had arrived in the nick of time.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of such a rare gem,” M’Baku said as he grasped Qaqambe’s hand and kissed the back of it.

“I-” Qaqambe was out of breath and words, unable to stop her body from responding to what she could only assume was what her ma and aunt told her about power of light keepers. She felt as if an inferno was lit the moment his lips touched her hand and spread to her entire body.

“M’Baku, Qambe. Qambe, M’Baku. Introductions made. Cousin, take him back to the party, we have urgent business to discuss,” Shuri rushed out, trying to guide the boys back to oblivion and Qaqambe back to their task.

M’Baku easily escaped her hold and ended up in front of Qaqambe again. “Whatever it is that is troubling you, let me help. And don’t you dare try to lie, I can see your light dimming in the face of darkness”

Qaqambe looked to Shuri for help, but her gaze was just as quickly pulled back to M’Baku, like a magnet. “Aunt Ramonda made us promise not to tell anyone outside the Dora what’s happening.”

“It sounds like he already knows with that last declaration,” Shuri mumbled.

“Just trust that it’ll help not hurt to tell us little one,” M’Baku tried again.

“I can show you better than I can tell you and it’s getting hard to hold it all in anyway,” Qaqambe said.

“Qambe no!” Shuri yelled as Qaqambe rolled her neck, opened her arms, and let loose the reigns on her gift.

Suddenly, lights of various colors burst from her, like an aurora light show escaping from her every pore. When she looked into M’Baku’s eyes it was like a supernova was activated, Qaqambe’s light erupted in a large flash before dimming and folding back into herself.

M’Baku, in awe, whispered, “nsọ ìhè, it’s real.”

-------

Meanwhile, Adrian was 75% certain that his little light was here in Wakanda when he arrived for the festival. He had spent the last decade tracking down Sade’s twin sister, Monda, who had disappeared with her light keeper around the same time Sade did with hers. Using records from before his birth to track down that who did not wish to be found presented as damn near impossible. Damn near.

Turns out that she changed her first name and secured a different last name by marrying. Too bad she married a man who’s responsibilities would put her in the spotlight. Thanks to his father and uncle’s drawings as well as the news of a newly opened Wakanda, he found her and had all the info he needed to infiltrate the party. Qaqambe’s light show gave him the confirmation and motivation he needed.

Slipping from the party virtually unnoticed was easy enough. It was figuring out his way through these halls to find the source of that flash oc light that was going to prove difficult. There were Dora Milaje stationed at the end of every corridor.

He didn’t need to worry since being so close to snuffing out Qaqmbe’s light seemed to strengthen his opposing power of darkness. Adrian slipped past the Dora with ease, able to become one with the shadows of the halls, letting them lead him to Shuri’s lab.

-----

“Aye! Who the fuck are you and what you doing so far from the party?” N’Jadaka yelled at an instantaneously appeared Adrian. Shuri had notified Queen Ramonda and the Dora while putting on her gauntlets and then pointed them at the intruder while M’Baku gently eased Qambe behind him. N’Jadaka picked up Shuri’s nearby disc blades and took up a similar stance to Shuri.

Adrian smirked, breathing in the fear his sudden appearance created. “Ahhhhhhh, it has been a long time since I’ve smelled such purity ready to be stripped.”

M’Baku growled deep in chest, reacting instead of thinking.

“Why don’t you come on out from behind this beast? Don’t you want to get acquainted with your betrothed?” Adrian said.

“My late mother and aunt told me of the forced betrothal alliance! You have no real claim to me,” Qaqambe said with tears in her eyes and voice.

Adrian spoke an unknown language, opened his hand and clutched into a fist. Qaqambe fell to the floor holding her throat as if she was choking. He said, “you will come with me, or I will do that to those you love,” and then he released her to gasp for breath.

M’Baku dropped to his knees beside Qaqambe and held her close. “We will fight him for your freedom, do not worry about us, you won’t have to go with him. I swear by Hanuman’s name, he won’t get your light.”

N’Jadaka and Shuri took a step forward as well as the Dora Milaje that was easing up behind him, but Adrian repeated the mantra and motion. Everyone except M’Baku and Qaqambe fell to the floor gasping for air.

A flash of confusion and fear flitted across Adrian’s face, which was long enough for M’Baku to charge at him. His hold on everyone broke as soon as he made contact, tackling Adrian to the ground like linebacker was his job title. When he wrapped his arm around Adrian’s neck and held him in place by his legs, Adrian started to go limp unable to combat such pressure and force without the use of his powers.

Qaqambe couldn’t let M’Baku take on such a burden as taking a life, especially not on her behalf. “M’Baku, no! Let him live. Do not stoop to his level.”

He loosened his hold, but didn’t let go completely, knowing that someone as conniving as Adrian would take her kindness for weakness and try to use it against them.

“Well what shall we do with him then? I won’t give him another opportunity to harm you.” M’Baku said.

Queen Ramonda walked in with her guards on her tail. “We’ll take away his chances of claiming her. M’Baku?”

“Yes, Queen mother?” he responded.

“Would I be wrong to assume that you are familiar with umanyano oloyikayo?” she asked.

M’Baku said, “No you wouldn’t. And if your next question is whether or not I am willing to participate in it with your niece, the answer is that I would be honored to be her light keeper...” M’Baku locked eyes with Qambe, “...if she’ll have me?”

Ramonda looked to Qaqambe who couldn’t stop crying watching their exchange. She nodded her head vehemently.

Ramonda signaled the Dora and Ayo stepped forward to handcuff and neutralize Adrian, allowing M’Baku to release him and make his way back to Qambe. N’Jadaka and Shuri stood down when he was secure.

Ramonda said, “All you have to do is promise to be her light keeper in your heart and mind as well as out loud, like a prayer, and you seal it with a kiss to her forehead.”

Adrian struggled uselessly against his restraints and guards. “No! She’s mine!”

M’Baku barked his signature Jabari grunt, silencing the interloper. He pulled Qambe to him by her hands until they were flushed against one another. He enveloped her in his arms, resting his hands at the base of her back and rested his forehead against hers, both their eyes closing in recognition of the sanctity of their last minute coupling. Once he spoke the prayer internally and externally, he sealed the union just as Ramonda had instructed. Qaqambe’s head tilted back, letting loose a wail of beautiful pain. Her light burst from her third eye first before it poured from her mouth as well until she collapsed into M’Baku’s arms with her light dancing around her like an aura.

“What in the 5th element just happened?” N’Jadaka asked.

“Much more than you were ever supposed to see nephew,” Ramonda said as she linked her arms with Shuri and N’Jadaka.

“Is Be gonna be okay?” he asked.

Ramonda looked back to the new couple as M’Baku trailed behind the group, refusing to let his eyes leave Qambe’s face for too long.

Ramona smirked and said, “She’s going to be just fine now.”

#sacred light #m'baku x oc #m'baku x qaqambe #black panther fanfiction #tale teller's daily writing challenge #tale teller's daily writing challenge 2021

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kai-keda · 3 years

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Cowards Die Many Times | DreamSMP Fanfic

Wow okay so I literally JUST made a post flat-out making fun of myself for writing this but in the tags I made a comment of “Should I post this?” and wow three people already reblogged with comments expressing I share.

So, you can thank (or blame lol) @thesmpisonfire @tommyistheprotagofthesmp and @ak3m0n for this being posted here at all. Depending on what the response to this is on here, I may or not post it on a03 and, again, depending on the response, I may or may not make this a sort of collection of one-shots detailing different death scenes and how the characters felt in those moments.

A/N:

THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE REAL LIFE STREAMERS!

I view the DreamSMP storyline as a sort of Dungeons and Dragons game with no real DM. Just players running around a world that they create as they go along and cause whatever chaotic instances and plot points they can manage. As such, while I write this and as you read this I want you to remember - burn into your brain - that this story isn’t about the real Minecraft streamers. They aren’t even streamers in this fic, they are fictional characters living in a made-up fictional world. I get that the line is blurred due to the nature of the videos this is based on, but I view it as being sort of like how when you write a character like Spiderman, you’re writing Spiderman, not Tobey Maquire.

All that being said, I really wanted to just write this concept of how death and respawn works with Tubbo from a certain festival event but as it turns out, he is very uncomfortable with the concept of fanfiction written about him. (Thank you SMP-boundaries for your God sent Tumblr) As such, even though I don’t see it as me writing literally him as I’m sure he’s seen plenty of, I won’t include anything from his perspective and try to limit any sort of mention of him. (I can’t bring myself to surgically remove him entirely. That would just be impossible because of how much of a part he plays both in what visibly happens and in Tommy’s development) ALSO PLEASE do not go out of your way and tag or try to show any of the Minecraft streamers/youtubers involved in this (not that y’all would lol). I happen to know that Tommy especially doesn’t want to see them even if he’s okay with them existing.

This was also meant to be a sort of collection of ficlets in one chapter. It was going to include more than this one scene and even include a POV from Wilbur but, uh, wow I got really carried away heh

SO YEAH! Now we got the important bits out of the way, please enjoy~

Cowards Die Many Times

“Do I shoot him Wil, or do I aim for the skies?” It was a heavy question. So heavy he couldn’t bring himself to raise his head. As they stood together and allowed the light reflecting off the water shine on them in a subtle way, Tommy considered his options. The answer should have been obvious. After all, this was war and this duel was their ticket to end it all and free themselves from their previous leader. The one Wil and he had labeled as a tyrant.

Dream.

“Tommy I -” A pause. Tommy looked up at his general. The only man he would ever take orders from. Wilbur Soot. He could see in his eyes that he had messed up. This was a burden Tommy couldn’t handle anymore. The deafening silence lasted for all of two seconds but it felt like eternity. He would never know for sure what Wilbur thought of his outburst and challenge towards their worst enemy, but the answer he received relaxed him. If only for a bit.

“I want you to do whatever your heart tells you.”

Tommy took a deep breath and relaxed it before turning around and going towards the man who hid behind a mask.

“Coward.” He whispered to himself. When he thought the word, he believed it was for Dream but now that he felt it leave his mouth and heard the shake of his voice, he wasn’t sure if it was for himself or not.

He walked to the center of the wooden path and held his bow tight. The tyrant, with his bright green hoodie that seemed to act as a target and challenge, laughed with his friends. With George and Sapnap. As if he felt this was all a game and after he won it would all be over with him holding more than bragging rights. The worst of the scene was that even Eret - the traitor - joined in their fun.

With such thoughts running through his mind, it’s no wonder the decision Tommy came to.

They needed their independence.

And Tommy had the perfect opportunity.

He knew what death felt like. He had nearly grown used to it. Maybe that’s why he was always so quick to start fights, skirmishes and even join wars. That was probably why he felt no regret with this decision to challenge the immediate area’s strongest member.

But if he was so used to death, then why did he shake so much?

Dream finally left his friends behind to watch as he walked towards Tommy. The younger of the two swallowed his nerves and did his best to glare. The smiling mask stared him down. Was Dream glaring under there? Was he shaking within the loosely fit hoodie? Was he…

“Are you taking this seriously at all, Dream?”

“Oh, I don’t know. This seems pretty easy.”

Oh yeah, Tommy was killing him for sure. To hell with any sort of ‘honor’ that supposedly came with throwing away ones shot in a duel, Dream was officially a dead man.

“Remember, Tommy,” Dream stated with his usual calmness, “when I win, you give me the disk, Mellohi, and you all give up this silly tantrum for good.”

Tommy glared even harder as now he was angrier than ever. Dream was always after his music disks, his most prized possessions in this God forsaken land. Betting one of them was worth it if it meant seizing total and complete independence forever for this wonderful vision Wilbur had shared with him.

He thought briefly about the disks. About why they were so treasured by Dream and himself.

For Dream they were merely bargaining tools. Something he could use to keep Tommy under control and stop him from starting anymore fights with anymore members under Dreams thumb. The deal would be that if Tommy got involved in any sort of ‘griefing’ of any kind, Dream would burn the disks. Though, to be completely fair and honest, all of that had started with Sapnap burning an unrelated member's home and then dragging both of the now dueling men into the fight.

But for Tommy? These disks were everything. There was something nostalgic about the sound of music, as though there was something he had long forgotten from a time far behind him. It was incredibly rare where they lived to find such things and Tommy, Tommy had two of them. Each a different mixture of sounds that brought their own unique textures to his mind.

He was not about to throw away his shot.

A whisper entered his mind and he did his best to not give away who it was from. For someone to use this ability, one that made themselves freeze in place and become vulnerable, especially at a time like this, it was important. So he simply continued to glare at Dream.

‘There’s no turning back now, Tommy. Good luck out there. My right hand man.’

Tommy took a deep breath before yelling out as loud as he could. “LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO!”

At the sound of yelling, Dream, Sapnap, George, Eret and even Tubbo - the only other member as young as the loud blonde child and one of their allies - all laughed. But the rest of his side? His makeshift army? They starred with an apathetic energy Tommy wasn’t sure what to feel about. All looked as though they had given up on this hopeless revolution. The humanoid fox and supposed child of the general, (it was unclear how serious he was of such a claim as it was never confirmed) Fundy, even went so far as to let out a sigh and shake his head.

He never was one to find such outbursts funny. It was as though he felt that Tommy treated this all as a simple game with no consequences. Yeah, he hadn’t experienced death nearly as many times as Tommy had, so maybe he did think more of it.

Wilbur, however, was hardly monotone in his expression and voice. As he spoke his next line, he looked directly at Tommy for only a brief second with worry and, more importantly, sadness. Wilbur had also already given up but as Tommy thought over that look, he realized that Wilbur, the one who was always looking after him as though he were an older brother charged with watching over the youngest child, was apologizing for dragging him into this. For supposedly making Tommy experience the worst possible torture this crazy world had to offer over and over.

Death.

“Are both parties ready?” Wilbur had questioned. After that one look, he refused to even so much as glance at Tommy. The younger one understood. Wil could never help getting emotional in times like these, after all.

Tommy turned to look at his opponent and the damn man was putting on a show of yawning, hardly looking prepared. He really was that confident.

Tommy pointed an accusatory finger at the one who seemed to like to smile a bit too much and yelled out “Are you ready to experience death, Dream?! Cause I’m ready to cause it for you!”

Dream shrugged and stood straight, bow in hand at his side. “Let’s hurry and get this started.”

Wilbur, still not looking at Tommy and, more surprisingly, not saying anything about his outburst of a response, stated the rules of the duel.

Turn their backs to each other, count ten paces - no more, no less - and then fire on your opponent at will. The first to die wins the duel and the agreement.

Either Tommy loses one-half of his most prized possessions, or he gains independence for their nation.

The count began. Tommy thought about what it would be like to kill Dream like this. No tricks, no silly traps and no real plans from either of them. Just a single arrow making contact and he would be dead. It was almost unreal. He would be a hero and would be considered a total badass. Maybe everyone, both enemy and friend, would finally respect him.

The count hit four. His thoughts turned away from such happy fantasies. What if Dream wanted revenge? He never took losing very well. Rather, he took it harshly, and the Lord only knew what George would do to them in unofficial retaliation. Dream would probably lightly suggest George return the favor to Tommy in a whisper and then claim to wash his hands of the incident. Just for the satisfaction of showing power while keeping whatever peace they decide upon after all this.

The count hit seven. Tommy centered himself. Maybe it was a bad idea to allow himself to daydream at this time. He probably should’ve been scanning and studying the terrain thoroughly and thinking of how to use it to his advantage and of how the other could use it against him. Think of a plan or at least a vague idea of the literal millions if not infinite possibilities.

Like hell.

Tommy always thought of plans only when he was backed into a corner and even then he was well into a battle.

Dream was the one to come up with every possible outcome and choose one of nine where he won. Tommy refused to be like Dream.

The count hit ten.

Tommy turned quickly and fired. His arrow went off and almost hit Sapnap, someone who was once an ally, if only temporarily, in his and Dream’s initial war. Way further off his target than the young man was willing to accept.

There was no time to think and sit in denial of being such a terrible shot. No time to listen to Dreams lackies yell at him to be a better aim or watch Tubbo cover his eyes while Fundy simply shrugged as though expecting it. Dream’s first arrow went by his ear so fast he almost felt as though it could deafen him and the older of the two was already aiming his second shot while Tommy was stuck in disbelief.

Tommy quickly moved and jumped to avoid the arrow that he knew would hit him if he didn’t but instead of landing on the wooden path, he crashed into the water. The very lake - or was it a pond? - that served to decorate the land and create a nice scenic area to sit and enjoy time with friends around. Tommy had forgotten all about it just as everyone had probably predicted.

Just as Dream had predicted.

As no arrows came, Tommy figured that Dream was waiting for him to surface so he took the time to ponder on his decisions.

After all, there was no doubt they were coming to bite him in the ass. There was no chance of him getting out of the water and not getting shot to death by a single arrow from his worst enemy.

This was it.

He was going to die again.

How much would it hurt this time? How long would he be stuck in an area of nothingness as whatever God that created them formed a new body? Would he be able to see his friends, to see Wilbur, as they are forced to give away any hope of a special place they could call their own?

Would it be slow and torturous as his body reels from the pain or would it be instant and clean? He had no way of knowing any of these things. He had no way of knowing what this death would feel like as, in his experience, there was no rhyme or reason to any of it.

What would one day only sting for a bit as he was instantly brought back to life, would cause him to spasm and feel his heart stop and his lungs give up their air for what felt like hours. In that one case that comes to mind, to add insult to injury, he would be trapped in that plain area that was completely absent of light and life with no way to contact anyone he loved (or hated).

They all knew this.

They all agreed that the fear of what would happen as you see the attacks coming and you feel yourself growing weaker could only sometimes be worse than the experience itself.

Tommy felt torn by everything in a single moment. If they all knew this, then why did they fight in this war to begin with? Was it worth these moments of pure fear and terrible agony?

Whenever he would die he would return as though nothing ever happened despite his true thoughts and experience. He was not one to talk about things like ‘feelings’ or ‘emotions’. That was something for women and only women. No matter how much Wilbur would try to encourage him to be more open like Tubbo, Tommy was a man. And he was always fighting to prove it.

Yes.

He may be positive he’ll lose. He may be certain there is no chance of winning this duel, but Tommy made a decision in that moment as he swam to the other side of the path.

He was going to die but he’d be damned if he let himself be the cause of Wilbur’s hopes in the form of their very own L’Manberg crashing down forever and for good.

First, he had to make it look good so no one else would suspect what he had hiding in the deepest part of his mind. An actual plan.

He jumped from the lake and pointed his arrow directly at the mask and right between the eyes but before he could fire, he was hit.

Ah. This one was going to hurt.

#dream smp #fanfiction #dream smp fanfiction #tommyinnit #kairi yajuu fanfiction #cowards die many times #that's a Shakespeare #just btw #I was gonna add the scene where Tommy and Dream make the deal with the discs but that ending felt too damn right #when I wrote it and then read a few paragraphs back to that point #and it felt even better when I read through the whole thing several times #for quality control and stuff ya know?#anyways this is probably really cringe hah #hope they don't find this #oh yeah!#Not that y'all would but don't @ any of the creators to try and show them this #most of them don't mind that fanfiction exists #but they would rather pretend it doesn't #cough cough tommyinnit himself

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1114

survey by dishwallafied

WHO was the last person...

you spoke to, in person? I think it was my sister, like earlier at 1 AM. She was the last person apart from me to head upstairs for bed.

you called? I tried calling our internet service provider’s hotline to inquire about our lost connection last weekend, but all I got was a useless automated message saying they’re on top of all concerns and will be addressing ours soon, which did not make any fucking sense because I didn’t get to report my issue anyway. Their social media was virtually useless too, and my dad had to physically go to one of their offices last Monday to settle the issue.

that called you? My phone’s not near me at the moment (omg a rarity) but it was the delivery person for Reggy’s croissants. GPS has always hated our street and has never been able to identify it, so whenever anyone in the family makes a purchase for delivery we’re bound to get a call or two from the rider assigned to our order to ask for directions.

you texted? It was the same delivery guy. He had tried to call me but I was in a meeting that I couldn’t get out of, so I explained to him I could only text. I also gave him a Waze link containing the exact positioning of our house so that he could set it up on his phone.

that sent you a text? I think it was just my mobile services provider sending out some random promotional text. Idk, I never open those.

you kissed? Gabie.

that kissed you? Also her. I don’t plan on kissing anyone new any time soon.

you yelled at? I haven’t recently been in a situation where I’ve had to yell at anyone...I do slightly raise my voice a lot on video call meetings just so I’m sure everybody on the call can hear me. That’s the closest I’ve got.

that yelled at you? My mom, when she was being a real drama queen about MY money a couple of weeks ago.

you watched a movie with? I watched it by myself, but I remember calling my ex for comfort because the movie was a little scary and creepy. I also remember how bothered she sounded that I was calling her, as if I was a huge burden, so...there’s that. Y’all do me a favor and be with someone who gets delighted when you call instead of making you feel like you’re a waste of space okie?? Good

you ate dinner with? My family. My dad laksa for dinner, which was perfect because I had been watching 2 Days 1 Night yesterday and the cast members kept eating ramyeon, which made me develop a serious craving for noodles all day.

you were in a photo with? I think it had been a family selfie. My family and I were about to leave the accommodation we stayed at in Tagaytay, and my mom wanted a final photo in the living room before we stepped out.

you took a photo of? My employer sent out heart-shaped red velvet cakes for all of us for Valentine’s Day, so I took a photo of it with Cooper in the background to share to the work group chat. I definitely did not expect any goodie sendout considering I never viewed Valentine’s as a special day even when I was still in a relationship, so it was a nice surprise to receive.

you went to a concert with? Oh my Paramore show was a solo date. Gabie did come to the arena with me and I also drove Denise, Erycka, and Leigh, but the three of them settled for a different section somewhere farther out given how they already did VIP seats for Paramore’s previous concert in 2013. It was my turn to have a front-row seat and since I didn’t know anyone who was as big of a fan as I was or was willing to shell out ₱7,000 for a VIP seat, I went by myself.

you lied to? I think it was Bea, my manager? She scheduled a quick call last Tuesday just to do a check-in with me, and she was asking how I was. Of course I had to tell her I was doing fine, which is never completely true for a lot of people, I think. I didn’t want her to ask me to open up anyway, so saying I was fine was the easy way to go.

you invited somewhere? I recently saw a music clip of a certain song that’s played a lot in bars, so I tagged my entire college barkada telling them we should go back to TK soon, at least when the lockdown and the pandemic subside considerably.

you dated? Gabie.

you dumped? It worked the other way around.

you rejected? I mean, I guess I technically rejected the girl Mik told me was interested in me. We never met since Mik refused to tell me her name or show a photo, but I informed him I wasn’t planning on talking with anyone soon so she can stop thinking I’m available.

you held hands with? Angela.

you hugged? Andi, before they got out of my car since we were parting ways for the evening.

you let cry on your shoulder? This hasn’t happened in a very long time. Most likely Gabie, but this would’ve been around at the start of 2020 when we could still see each other regularly.

that let you cry on their shoulder? Figuratively, Angela and Andi.

you bought a gift for? I got a weekend accommodation for my family, but it was really meant for my dad for his 50th birthday.

you wished a happy birthday? Hans.

that disappointed you? I was more annoyed than disappointed, but it was some random Fil-Am who was being ignorant at the Subtle Filipino Traits Facebook group. That community gives me a huge migraine most days because of Fil-Ams who continue to romanticize the ~beauty~ of the country whilst completely ignoring the socio-political trainwreck here, but the group is kind of the place to be for Filipinos so I can’t see myself leaving it either.

that stayed over at your place? They didn’t stay over for the night but Angela and Hans did a surprise visit to my house a few days after Christmas.

that let you crash at their place? Gab. I used to always crash at her place when I’ve had a few drinks.

that made you angry? Idk man, can I give Mark Zuckerberg as an answer? HAHAHA I went on Facebook first thing today and the first thing I saw was a Facebook Memory, and it was a photo of me and Gabie at Athenna’s birthday party four years ago. I got irritated at first until I remembered that we were both tagged in the post, which means it would most likely show up on her feed as a Memory as well. Just to humor my petty ass, I kinda hope the memory would make her sad, wherever she is; but otherwise seeing the Memory pop up didn’t make me sad or bothered anymore so that’s a win for meee.

that complimented you? Leah, my employer’s CEO. She did a check-in call with me recently to get to know me better, so one of the first things she asked was a list of the clients I handle. I happen to be in the team that works with the company’s more big-league clients, so once she heard the brands she told me I must be a good enough worker to be assigned those clients. It meant a lot and it still does.

whom you complimented? Bea. I just let her know how helpful she’s been with me considering I’m a fresh graduate on her first job in a work-from-home setup in the middle of a global pandemic.

you thanked? A supplier I’m currently in contact with, for work.

that thanked you? The said supplier thanked me back.

you saw, in person? My sister.

that bought you something? Dad bought siopaos for us yesterday.

that made you laugh? The cast of 2 Days 1 Night, from when I was watching the show last night.

that you said you loved? I don’t remember. I think it was Kate since she helped me out with a favor.

that said they loved you? Hannah.

you flipped off? I haven’t whipped out the finger in a while, come to think of it.

you made a silly face at? Not a person, but Cooper.

that drove you somewhere? Dad was the driver for our Tagaytay trip.

WHAT was the last thing you...

touched? Aside from my keyboard, my vape pen.

threw? Cooper’s bowling pin squeak toy. He’s gotten a lot better at catching things with his mouth, so I’ve been throwing it a lot at him to continue training him.

ate? A caramel croissant.

drank? Coffee.

found stuck in your teeth? Haven’t had this happen to me in a while.

cooked? I’ve never tried cooking anything.

baked? Idk, maybe cookies 873984732842 years ago.

threw away/tossed out? The packet for the sauce that came with the siopao my dad bought.

bought? I made a purchase for 20 bags for a work thing, but only because I was assigned to do the whole correspondence with the supplier. My manager was the one who sent over the payment when the purchase was confirmed.

sold? I don’t think I’ve ever tried selling anything before.

took a photo of? Cooper hahaha. I had been dancing to a song and he was staring at me.

were frustrated with? Our internet provider when they cut off the connection last weekend.

broke? I’m not sure if I can say I broke it, but the adaptor for my phone charger finally gave up on me the other day. I’ve taken to borrowing my sister’s for now, since she says she “doesn’t use it a lot” anyway.

spilled? Some drops of coffee spilled out of my mug when I dumped several ice cubes in it.

tripped on? Kimi. He follows me evvvvvvverywhere, so I bump into him at least once a day.

kicked? I’m not really sure.

put batteries in? Haven’t had to use batteries in a while, either.

turned on? The Bluetooth on my laptop.

turned off? The electric fan last night since I found it loud.

wrote? Other than my answers to this survey, I’ve also been talking with Angela this morning over Messenger.

wrote on? Other than my phone/laptop, my journal.

cleaned? My glasses.

stuck up your nose??? My finger when a nostril itched recently.

WHERE was the last place you...

dined at? Ramen Nagi.

ordered something to go? I don’t do takeout deliveries, but the last thing I got for delivery was banh mi and iced Vietnamese coffee last week.

bought something? Facebook Marketplace.

cried? In the living room. I came across that viral video of a guy proposing to her girlfriend at a Taylor Swift concert, when he knelt at the exact moment Taylor sang “He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring” from Love Story. It was such a sweet, classy, non-cringey public proposal and I allowed myself to be swept away by the cheesiness of it all, haha.

felt uncomfortable? Dining room table. I was sharing a story to my parents about work involving a guy and my mom asked me if I had a crush on him. My dad kind of snorted and said, “Her? Crush on a guy?” which told me he knew something was up re: my preferences lmao. They’ve never heard anything from me yet, so that made me feel awkward and I most especially didn’t want my mom to catch on to the question and suddenly put me in the hot seat.

drove to? Other than back home, I last drove to UPTC.

had an appointment at? Google Meet, hahaha.

went on vacation? Tagaytay.

hung out with a friend? Andi and I went to a Korean barbecue place at UPTC (again), but we also drove to UP after just to revisit the good old days of being in campus.

bought clothes? H&M in Feliz.

spent more than you had planned? Ramen Nagi. I had a couple of add-ons in my meal and I didn’t know their service fee was going to be quite high, so my final bill ended up being slightly more than the budget I planned out for that day.

saw a band/singer/musician perform? Late 2019. My ex and I stopped by a jazz bar and there was a live band playing.

WHEN was the last time you...

told someone 'I love you'? Last Friday.

cried? Last night.

laughed? This morning. Cooper was being silly around me and my dad, as always. This time he was unusually behaved when we let him out, and the bizarreness of it all made us so unsettled we ended up laughing.

left your home? Last Sunday. I might go out later, too.

drank a soda/pop? Early last year. There was Coke being served at an org event, and since I felt thirsty and there was no drinking fountain around I just said fuck it and drank the soda.

made your bed? Last night when I left my room to settle in the living room.

visited a doctor? May last year.

went to the emergency room? Other than when 23 years ago when I was born, I’ve never been brought to the emergency room.

kissed someone? September.

hugged someone? Mid-January.

prayed? Six years ago. Or maybe five; I can’t really tell when exactly I made it a point to stop for good.

worked out? Around a week ago. I’m thinking if I should keep at it or if I should just stop, seeing as I’m not willing to give up my favorite foods anyway lmao.

made a phone call? I tried to make a phone call to our internet provider last weekend.

answered a phone? The other evening when the landline rang.

had an argument? Two weeks ago, instigated by my mom as usual.

played a video game? I think 2-3 weeks ago when I got in the mood to play the Switch.

played a card game? Safe to say at least a couple of years ago.

played a board game? November when we suffered a power outage for two days and had nothing to do at home.

rode a bike? LOOOOOOOOL March. The lockdown had just started and I made plans to learn how to ride a bike, but those plans fell through as soon as they began.

fell on your butt? This doesn’t happen often.

took a shower? Last night.

took a bubble bath? I can’t even remember anymore; this is a rare occasion for me.

watched TV? I last watched a TV show in general last night, but I last watched something on an actual television last Sunday when my family watched a Sunday mass livestream.

saw a movie at a theater? December 2019.

ate fast food? I got Bonchon for my family last December, if I remember correctly. My dad had done a huge favor for me and I asked what I can do to repay it, and he said to just buy dinner for the 5 of us for that evening.

ordered a pizza? Last month.

made someone laugh? I’m not sure if I had made her laugh in real life, but Angela and I had a humorous conversation over chat earlier this morning.

sang? Few minutes ago.

played a musical instrument? Absolutely no clue.

read a book? Couple of weeks ago when my employer sent me this book on PR that I was asked to read in preparation for my meeting with Leah.

drove a car? Last Sunday.

went swimming? Think it may have been my Nasugbu trip with Angela, Sofie, and Gabie back in August 2019.

got a sunburn? Idk man, when I was 8? I stopped getting sunburns as I got older.

went to church or temple? The last Sunday in March before the lockdown started.

went shopping? I did my final around of Christmas shopping last month for friends I still had to give presents to.

drank alcohol? Sometime last month after my work shift, following back-to-back meetings with my least favorite client.

smoked a cigarette? Feb last year, I think. I don’t buy cigarettes of my own and I’m also a lot more watchful of my cigarette usage, so I haven’t been able to smoke since I haven’t been around a crowd who does. I mostly vape.

threw up? I last felt like throwing up back in May, but I haven’t actualy thrown up in at least a couple of years now.

had a headache? Just this Thursday.

had a cold? No idea.

had the flu? It wasn’t strictly the flu, but I was last sick in May.

had your hair cut? March last year.

dyed your hair? Never done it.

laughed so hard that you cried? It’s happened in at least the past couple of weeks, I’m sure.

#survey #surveys

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dumpster-of-the-lost-souls · 4 years

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Okay I just finished rewatching the Dreamtalia playthrough that Kyokyo866 and Lubo recorded. (Part 8 to be specific) In which America’s neck gets snapped by Reve after attempting to snap Canada out of his trance. This is one of the three bad endings of the first Dreamtalia game that I can think of right of the top of my head. The others being Germany cutting England off at the start of the game which causes no one to believe him so Reve is left unchallenged and able to do as he pleases. And the other being at the end of the game where you as Veneziano have to choose between staying with Reve or fighting him. One of which results in a bad ending.

In these two aforementioned bad endings we get cut scenes and in one case a whole game to figure out what happens next.

But with the Neck Snap ending (that’s what I’ll be calling it henceforth) we don’t get any extra information. We just get left on the note of a horrifying image of Reve covered in Devil’s blood holding America by the throat and head coving his mouth with his hand. The screen goes black and we hear the sound of America’s neck being snapped. And that’s it. We don’t get any more information about what happened.

That ambiguity got plot bunnies running through my head. Here’s what I think would happen.

When Reve drops America’s lifeless corpse to the ground he takes a moment to gloat while the nations there are stunned speechless. Reve’s gloating allows England the precious time he needs to get over his shock as his thoughts go along something like this:

“America is dead. The obnoxious little brat that bested me is dead. America was murdered, my colony was murdered, that bastered murdered him, THAT WASTREL OF A MONSTER MURDED HIM! HE MURDERED MY SON!”

Cue England going ballistic. As you can see by the quote above I head canon that England sees America as his son. Their relationship could use some work but we see this fleshed out in the rest of the story.

England launches himself at Reve throwing all the spells he knows at him. Knocking back the dream reaper catching him off guard. The illusion that made his appearance match America’s dissipates and we get a glimpse of who he is under it. This snaps Canada out of his stupor as he realizes that America his brother is dead Reve killed him and HE told Reve to kill him.

France manages to grab Canada and snap everyone else out of their stupor shouldering the burden of responsibility now that England is out for blood.

As for Reve he ends up with England managing to land several good hits on him. Reve is forced to flee but ends up with the fear of death put in him. Or specifically the fear of England.

France manages to gather everyone and Devil gives his power to Russia who uses Kolkutz to get them out of the collapsing lake that ended up more like a crater. They managed to take America’s body with and his body is buried on the edge of the lake.

From here several roles are changed England is the one chomping at the bit to get to Reve and kick his ass six ways into the next century. Germany ends up trying to unsuccessfully reign him in. Japan is not put through the ringer several times over. That ‘reward’ is given to Canada. France ends up taking up the mantle as leader and voice of reason. I’m still working out the other parts.

As for direct consequences they immediately go back and grab Finland since Reve just killed America one of the world’s superpowers. He could kill any of the rest of them just as easy.

Reve also since he narrowly avoids getting maimed by England beefs up the monsters that the party fights.

The next kingdom is still China’s as Hanged Man. Russia still gets stabbed since due to the shock of America dying and England going apeshit China’s disappearance was forgotten about. And the massacre happens but instead of Reve it’s World using America’s modern appearance to fuck with Canada’s head. Often saying things like “you could have saved me!” “You killed me!” World usually tilts his head in the direction America’s neck was snapped making it seem like it’s America’s corpse that dug it’s way out of the shallow grave they dug just to haunt them.

The aftermath of Hanged Man’s kingdom includes the nations setting up a system that allows them to make sure that allows them to check if a nation is Reve or not using really obscure references to Hetalia Canon or real world history. Since I doubt that Reve has enough knowledge of human history to be able to masquerade as one of the nations for an extended period of time.

The second major change is that everything and everyone is much more serious. Everyone is much more serious and guarded then they are in Regular Dreamtalia. Most comedic moments are cut since everyone has realized that they can’t fuck around willy nilly. The only one who was taking things even the slightest bit more seriously was Japan since he got the short end of the stick.

The changes also ripple over to the ones in the waking world since Prussia gets a front row seat to America’s neck snapping violently to the side. Prussia just immediately after that happens checks his vitals. And after confirming that America is in fact dead sends call after call to nations all over the world making sure everyone knows this.

“The United States of America is dead. The Fauchereve killed him. All hands on Deck,”

This emergency message brings several more nations into the picture Norway and Romania brew more of the potion to allow more people to join the nations in their attack. The nations that end up taking the potion and joining in are: Prussia, Hungary, Seborga, Spain, Sweden, Denmark, Ukraine, Norway and Taiwan.

Some other things change as well. Sealand isn’t the star Belarus is. Her kingdom is a world where she and Russia are married so she has become his one and only Star. (This gives Russia nightmares for months.)

The relationship between arcana and the nations is also rockier since any of them could be Reve in disguise. And due to England’s paranoia and anger their relationship with Death, Priestess, Justice, and the Wheel of Fortune is much more professional. Japan doesn’t really get all that touchy-feely with Justice. The scenes with Priestess are cut down. The wheel of fortune are barely in the game just a bunch of bosses who get their asses kicked. And the only reason Death wasn’t smited by England is A) that England was genuinely caught off guard by the fact that Death could bring someone back from the dead. And B) Death had already brought Germany back.

The events surrounding Germany’s temporary death is much different then Regular Dreamtalia. Being that when you finnaly confront Reve England launches himself at the poor bastard before anyone can get a word out. He ends up being backed up by France, Finland, and Sweden. All of whom are parental figures.

The rest of the nations have to fight off monsters which are summoned by Reve in desperation. You cycle through battles of different nations grouping up and fighting them off. If you lose a battle in this sequence it’s a game over with all of the nations present being slaughtered.

If you win all of the battles you then fight Reve as the EFFS group. If you lose same bad ending. When you win you get a cutscene of Reve firing an attack off at Sweden. Sweden dodges it, the attack hits Germany he dies Death resurrects him.

The player is now in control of Veneziano who then in disbelief and anger ends up yelling in tears. About how this needs to stop. Reve seeing Veneziano yelling about how everything needs to stop. Pushes him to the edge he charges up a big attack. And just like in regular Dreamtalia you have to decide on fighting Reve or choosing to stay.

The bad ending from Italy’s choice remains roughly the same Italy remains asleep and Germany gets taken by Reve. But with the addition is that England is also taken but is somewhat separate in a world where he gets to spend the rest of his days with his son America.

In the good ending it’s a Pyrrhic victory Reve swears on the souls of all his victims that he will never bring another soul to the dreamworld and leaves for unknown worlds. Italy wakes up. But America stays dead. Canada takes over America’s job and acts for his brother. Which forces him to be noticed as he now acts for one of the world’s superpowers. In the end he ended up being noticed and appreciated but with his brother paying the ultimate price.

That’s all of the real bones I’ve got for the Neck Snap. I’ll make more posts of the things that are kinda side bits. Details, ideas’s for how Dreamtalia 2: A New World Order would go in the Neck Snap timeline of events.

I dunno. Also I started writing this around 2:30 AM it’s now 5:30 AM. Christ on a bike I need to sleep.

Also credit where credit is Due Dreamtalia was created by people who are not me. This is just a ridiculously large plot bunny.

#Dreamtalia #Neck Snap Au #tw death #i need to go to sleep godamnit #god this is long #hetalia

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peakyblinders1919 · 4 years

Text

Prove It

Dancing with the Devil Pt. 2

Overview | Pt 1

The polished oak was cold under Isabella’s feet as she made her way down the stairs to where breakfast waited. 8am everyday like clockwork. For her to carry out the usual routine of sitting at one end of a ridiculously long dining table across from her mother, who’s head was buried in the days newspaper, to poke at a poached egg and half sausage before she would excuse herself and escape the confides of the prison for long as she could get away with. “Morning” she managed a smile which was wasted as her mother barely even lifted her head in her direction, taking her seat. “Morning Isabella, sleep well?”

“I did Mother, did you?” She didn’t care about how her mother slept, it was a common courtesy and respectable. She was taught to keep her responses short or risk being seen as too smart or too opinionated or too talkative. Even with her own mother. But that wasn’t Isabella. “Papa has a meeting this morning?” Being the man of the house, he wasn’t always around at meals and such, he had more important things to do with the estate and keeping their reputation pristine. She asked because some part of her needed to know; meetings never started before nine o’clock unless they were important or it was with someone her father didn’t want others seeing or risk losing that pristine reputation he was working so hard for.

“Soon. I believe so, and an important one at that so you’d best stay out the way.”

“Don’t I always” Isabella said with a hint too much attitude for her mothers liking, causing her to raise her eyes from the paper in disapproval, scorning her without a word. Isabella sighed, dropping her fork where she had been picking at the yolk than ran along her plate, taking that as her cue to leave. “I’ll be somewhere on the grounds if you need me.” She left the room quickly as to avoid any potential questioning, eager to bask in the fresh spring air that was waiting for her outside. “So you’d best stay out the way” she mimicked her mother under her breath, reaching into her brazier to retreat her trusty pack of chesterfield cigarettes before quickly regretting her thoughtless haste and shoving them back into position when she heard her fathers voice along the corridor, her frequent smoking around the grounds without having yet been caught causing her to have gotten too comfortable, careless even. She straighten up her dress before approaching the corner, hesitating as she heard a second voice responding to her father.

She was just far enough that the conversation her father and the muster clown were acing was inaudible, unable to make out any words. She didn’t recognize the voice, not that she ever really knew who her father was meeting and keeping company with. She was just about to keep making her way towards the door leading to the East gardens. They were the least looked after part of the estate, which made it perfect for smoking in secret. But the drill of the recognizable accent stopped her in her tracks. It was harsh, rough around the edges, not posh in the slightest. Quiet the opposite actually. Gritty. Brummie. Since when did her father surround himself with people like that?

This was enough to draw Isabella in, recalling that the only unusual company her father had had of late were the unfamiliar faces she had spotted at the party a week earlier. The voice she could hear was definitely harsh enough to belong to one of the burley statues she had witnessed, though not the black sheep she had wound up fighting off a soft spot for. No, he had been different. It was only now she found herself questioning whether he had been a Brummie also, she hadn’t noticed an accent as thick as this one in his tone if he had been.

Before she had chance to attempt to eavesdrop on the conversation she heard the door to her fathers office shut tightly, their voices dropping dead with it.

Even with her level of quick wit there was no way she was going to wiggle her way into her father's office, especially if she was right and he was keeping company with men he didn't want to be seen with. While it had peaked her interest for a moment, just like that she was uninterested, her cigarette case itching heavy in her bra. She made her getaway out the back door. The east gardens were deteriorated beyond repair, in her mothers opinion, but the annuals regrew every year in their white, yellow, and pink glory. The garden was sparse, yes, and the marble benches were cracked and weathered, the gazebo falling apart but to Isabella it was a beautiful place to be alone and smoke. She perched herself on a bench in the sun, lighting her cigarette, inhaling and exhaling. She was able to enjoy herself knowing she was completely alone and no one would ever bother to look for her here when there was the undeniable snap of a twig under foot. "Shit." Muttering under her breath, she inhaled quickly a few more times to get her buzz from the nicotine before waving the smoke from the air around her and stomping the cigarette out before her company rounded the corner.

“Well if it isn’t the lady herself,” his voice startled her despite having known someone was approaching, not having expected those words nor the voice that accompanied them. He stood with that same mischievous smirk on his lips, perfectly gelled hair and briefcase in hand. She strangely found herself having to fight back a smile at the excitement of his unexpected visit, replacing it instead with a roll of the eye as she retrieved her cigarettes once again, lighting a fresh one. “Waste of a cigarette” she muttered, about to fumble for her lighter when he presented one before her, flicking it once to produce the small flame.

“Well this certainly isn’t your fathers office” he squinted taking in the surroundings of overgrown ivy snaking across the once grand roman statues.“I was directed to follow the corridor along and take a right and it seems here I am.”

Isabella couldn’t help but laugh at this, spluttering a small loud of smoke into the air. “Let me guess, Anna directed you? She’s never been too good with directions. She was mistaken, take a left.”

Michael sighed, setting his briefcase down on the bench next to her, close but not too close. “Ah, a left.” He pulled a cigarette out of his silver etched case, lighting it up and inhaling deeply. “I’m sure my company’s not necessary right now, better to be out here with you.” His a lips upturned at the corners of his mouth, a smile as he watched her. “You know, in case I need to cover for you. Lady Isabella can’t be caught smoking.”

Isabella scowled at him while taking another long drag, scooting up on the bench so he had room to sit if he so wished. “Just Isabella will suffice.” He took her invitation and sat beside her, allowing her to see him up close without the glare of artificial light for the first time. He was very handsome she couldn’t deny him that, his features youthful and wholesome, though his eyes were different. She prayed the intensity of them hadn’t welcomed her cheeks to flush.

“Well... just Isabella, when I met you the other night I didn’t have you pegged as a smoker.” He was handsome, yes, but he confirmed that there wasn’t anything special or different about him, he was just like all the other aristocratic young men she’d been forced to meet; heads swelled to an unimaginable size with pride and ego. She sighed heavily, expelling the smoke into the air in front of them, smoke from both of their cigarettes dancing in the air like they had. “That’s because you know nothing about me. Just like a man, thinking he knows everything about everyone.” This wasn’t a game anymore, it was personal. But she was still winning

“I know you’re a lady and lady’s don’t smoke”

“Well, this one does” she threw the stump of burning ember onto the ground and twisted it into the gravel with her foot. “I apologise that I’m so far from the angelic ideals of a lady that you seem to know of. Now, did you just come and sit here to remind me every second of my burdening title or did you have something worthwhile to say Mr. Grey?”

In Michael’s eye it was still a game, one that he was winning now as her annoyance was clear and he had succeeded in riling her up. He tisked somewhat disapprovingly, shaking his head. “I’ve just never met a lady is all. But since you say your not like the others, sneaking around the estate smoking, why don’t you prove it, huh?”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.” There was a sour taste in her mouth, whether from the cigarette or Michael’s sudden change in attitude, she wasn’t completely sure. She was ready to protest, to stomp on his foot for accusing her of such things and degrading her and her title, but one look into his emerald eyes and she forgotten everything she was going to do. The cheeky grin, she recognized it as a sign of victory. He had her exactly where he wanted her, but she knew her place of the chess board. He intrigued her, his life somewhere far from hers intrigued her. “What did you have in mind?”

“Meet me tonight at 8, I’ll have a car waiting for you at the end of the drive. Let’s see how you fare outside the walls of this castle of yours.” He stood, picking up the brief case and brushing down the custom made suit. “I can’t.” Isabella protested almost instantly without thinking, seeing his eyebrows raised as he turned back her and that was question enough for her to change her mind. “Fine. I’ll be there. But have the car parked further along the lane than the end of the drive, way further.” Michael chuckled under his breath at the bit of childlike innocence creeping through, afraid of being caught. He began his walk back to the stone archway he had mistakenly stumbled upon earlier. “I’ll see you then. Left, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Michael, why exactly are you here to speak with my father anyway?” She asked before he stepped back through the door, the first genuine thing she had wanted to ask him since they’d began. “Business.”

#peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #michael gray fanfic #Michael Gray imagine #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray imagines #finn cole imagine #peaky blinders oc #OC moodboard #oc X michael gray

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joe-mazzello-archive · 4 years

Text

Bandaid

A Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader fic

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: angstttt, references to poor mental health, fluff

Request: if requests are still open I would like something angsty and fluffy where the reader feels she's not good enough and cares too much about him to drag him down and tries to break up with him but he won't let her go

A/N: This request was too good, I needed to turn it into a full fic. This is my first angsty fic I’ve put up so feedback is appreciated! Requests/taglists are still open!

You didn’t know a lot of things. But you knew two things with absolute certainty. One: you were completely and absolutely head over heels in love with Joseph Francis Mazzello III. You loved him with every bit of your heart. He was the constant that kept your life in order. His smile lit up your entire world, and his arms were your home.

The one other thing you knew for certain was that you were absolutely wrong for Joe.

You knew it in your heart. You knew it when he brought you along to elaborate Hollywood parties, and you were surrounded by loads of glamorous women who adored him and doted on him constantly. You knew it when you hung out with his other actor friends, and you couldn’t help but sit there silently, unable to contribute to their conversations about their careers. You knew it when you had to cancel date night again because you were feeling particularly down, and you could sense every ounce of Joe’s frustration with you in his voice.

You desperately wanted to be that person for him. The one who could confidently walk into a room and command everyone’s attention without saying a word. The one who could be bubbly and dynamic and hold a conversation with anyone, no matter who they were. The one who didn’t struggle with their mental health constantly, being a burden to those around her.

And those two pieces of information that you were one hundred percent certain of were what led you to lay on Joe’s couch, waiting for him to get home from getting lunch with a friend. You were already crying. You hadn’t stopped since you had come to your conclusion: that you needed to let him go.

You assumed he’d fight you. He’d argue and beg and plead with you, but he wouldn’t be seeing the bigger picture. You were saving him time. Eventually he’d grow tired of you, regret spending his years with you when he could be off finding the person he’d spend the rest of his life with. You couldn’t bear the thought of Joe resenting you. You’d rather lose him now, when things were good and he still cared for you than put it off and watch him slowly drift away from you. Might as well rip off the bandaid.

It was such a cliche. But it was true: you loved him, and that’s why you needed to let him go. You’d recover eventually. Sure, it would be harder than most break-ups, considering who Joe was. There was no doubt he’d come across your radar in the future. He was one of the most talented actors you’d ever watched; obviously he’d be in television shows or movies in the future. And you presumed that your heart would clench all over again each time you saw him, just wishing you could have been the one for him.

Maybe one day you’d meet someone else who made you feel even a fraction as good as Joe did and you wouldn’t be a disappointment to them and everything would work out in the end. At least you hoped. Hope was all you really had right now.

Like how you really hoped Joe would just walk through the door that second so you could get this over with and end the waiting. Your agony wouldn’t end, but at least things would finally be going into motion.

You were about to crack open another beer when you heard the front door open. He was probably confused to see your car in the driveway, as he wasn’t expecting to see you until later that night. But you couldn’t wait that long.

“Babe?” he called out, the sound of his voice piercing right through your heart. You felt your already shaky resolve slipping. You could chicken out and drop the whole thing. You could let him sweep you into his arms and tell you everything’s okay and spend the day showering you with his love.

But not this time. You needed to do this now. Before things got more serious. You had overheard one of Joe’s friends ask about when you were going to move in. That was what had woken you up from your dream state. It brought you back to the crippling reality that was your doomed relationship. Why go through the hassle of moving in when in time you’d move right back out again?

“In here,” you responded weakly, your voice hoarse from the intense crying you’d done all day. His figure finally appeared before you, the hair you loved to run your fingers through spilling out of his Yankees cap, his jaw decorated in the scruff you loved to play with.

“To what do I owe the…” he trailed off as he got a good look at you. You were probably quite the sight: hair mussed from the couch cushions, eyes puffy and red. A switch flipped in him and he moved towards you immediately, reaching out for you. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You pushed yourself up to sit, giving Joe room to sit next to you. You shrunk away when he tried to pull you into him. You could see the hurt flash on his face immediately and you almost broke again.

“What’s going on?” he questioned timidly, almost as if he was afraid of the answer. You couldn’t look at him anymore, your gaze focused on your lap.

“How was lunch?” you asked, stalling for a moment as you tried to recall the speech you had rehearsed in your head over the past few days. Now that you were here, your head was empty. You were coming up blank. Why were you even doing this again? You longed to touch him. To feel him under your fingertips, feel at home in his arms. But you knew you couldn’t. You had to be strong.

His eyebrows furrowed at your question. He wasn’t so easily fooled, he knew you too well. While he had learned over the past eight months how to tell when you needed space, this wasn’t one of those times. He knew your question was a feeble attempt to distract him.

“Babe,” he breathed out, almost like a warning. Reminding you that he wasn’t backing down that easily. Joe wasn’t a bullshitter. If something needed to be discussed, he didn’t like skirting around it. It was more efficient to skip the fakeness and cut to the chase. That way a solution could be found faster and things could settle and he’d get to kiss you and caress you until you couldn’t remember what was wrong in the first place.

How do you even begin? How do you tell someone that you love them so much that you have to leave them? How do you even go about breaking your own heart?

“I think....it’s best if we...end this,” you squeaked out, your voice quiet. Joe didn’t move, as if his brain wasn’t computing. You sat there, frozen, waiting for him to respond or even acknowledge that you’d said anything.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was tight, like he was holding back from exploding at you. Joe rarely lost his temper, in fact you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him actually mad. Sure, he shouted at the television when the Yankees weren’t playing well, and he had rage quit video games before. But those were brief moments of frustration, not actual, true anger.

You still couldn’t look at him, you were afraid to see his face. It pained you to hurt him. But one day, one day he’d understand that it was for his own good.

“We need to end this. End us,” you confirmed, more assured this time since the words had already been said. Then you made the mistake of looking at him. His eyebrows were knitted together and his mouth hung open as if he was about to speak. But nothing came out. You could practically feel your heart tearing in two. “I’m sorry--”

“I don’t understand,” he finally responded, cutting you off. “Where is this coming from? I...why...but...do you…”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and it’s just the right thing to do,” you said, ending his stammering. He simply blinked at you, still not understanding.

“Did I do something?” he asked desperately. “Did I not do something? Tell me what I can do to fix it.” The pain in his voice cut you deep, and you felt yourself crumbling. Tears started to trickle down your face. You noticed Joe’s hands twitch, as if he was going to reach up and wipe them away but remembered how you flinched away from him before.

“No, no, no, you’re absolutely perfect. You’re the perfect boyfriend,” you replied, throwing caution to the wind and taking one of his hands in yours. Just the feeling of his skin under yours immediately had a calming effect. It took every fiber of your being not to pull him closer to you and tell him to forget you ever said anything and kiss him until you couldn’t feel anymore pain.

“Then what?” he pleaded. “Do you…” He paused and looked down at his hand in yours, like he was afraid of even saying the next few words. “...do you not love me anymore?”

When Joe looked back up at you, it was like your heart shattered into millions of pieces. You could see the tears forming in his eyes. You let out a muted sob and brought his hand up to place a kiss on it.

“That’s just it. I will always, always love you,” you explained, your voice cracking a bit. “But I don’t fit in with your world.” You were already exhausted, all of your emotions swimming through your head, and your body trying to recover from all of the crying. But it wasn’t over yet.

“Fit in with my world?” he questioned, his tone shifting to one of disbelief. He squeezed your hand and brought it closer to him. “You are my world!” You had to fight an eyeroll at his adorably cheesy remark. Especially since you knew he actually believed it. You shook your head.

“I can’t be the person you need,” you insisted. “I can’t be the confident girlfriend of an actor who can win over the crowd at parties or be glamorous like all the people at those events. I don’t have the ability to just cure my depression or anxiety and be 100% okay.” Joe’s face continued to fall as you continued. It was almost like a look of realization. “You deserve someone whole. Someone who can be that person for you.”

He sat there silently for a moment, processing everything you had said. His hand still clutched yours as if he was scared to let go. Like if he let go, you’d disappear. A solid minute passed of the two of you sitting in silence, Joe thinking so hard you could practically hear it.

“Joe?” you practically whimpered.

“Do you want this?” he asked suddenly, looking you right in the eyes. He no longer looked upset, he just seemed determined.

“What?” you responded, confused by his sharp shift in demeanor.

“Do you want to break up?” he clarified. “Don’t think about me, or what I’m feeling, or what you think is best for me. Answer me selfishly. Do you want to break up?”

Of course you didn’t want to. Selfishly you wanted to stay with Joe the rest of your life. You wanted to move in with him and eventually start a family with him. You wanted to wake up next to him every day and be able to kiss him until the end of time. But that wasn’t the point. And he obviously wasn’t getting the point.

So you lied.

“Yes.”

Joe just shook his head.

“I don’t believe you,” he declared confidently. “You think you’re doing what’s best for me? You think that pushing me away is going to make me happy? No, you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“Joe--”

“No,” he interrupted before letting go of your hand and leaning in to rest a hand on your cheek. This time you didn’t pull away. “There aren’t enough words in existence to explain how much I love you. Everything about you.” He gently caressed your face while looking deep into your eyes. “I don’t know who this person is that you think I need or deserve. But I need you. I want you.” You closed your eyes in a feeble attempt to stop the tears from falling.

“But--”

“No ‘buts’,” he paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I am so, so sorry for ever making you feel like you weren’t enough for me. You are...everything.” His voice broke a little and you realized he was starting to cry himself. “I can’t imagine not having you in my life. The thought of losing you…” he trailed off and shook his head.

The dam broke. You reached out and pulled him into you, your forehead nestling into this shoulder. The two of you clung to each other while you blubbered into his shirt. His hand gently traced shapes along your back as he held you, whispering sweet words into your ear. After a few moments, you pulled away to look at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you cried. “I love you so much.” Joe softly rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, baby. So much. So so much,” he replied before pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

Joe shifted the two of you on the couch so that your back was against his chest as his arms held you tightly. You both laid there, caressing each other while you let go of all of the emotions that had been building up inside of you. Every so often Joe would place a gentle kiss to your shoulder or your cheek as his thumbs softly stroked your arms.

After you had calmed down and the tears had stopped, Joe politely asked you to tell him in detail about times where you hadn’t felt like you were enough. He insisted he wanted to know everything; he wanted to avoid ever making you feel that way again. The two of you talked for hours, wrapped up in each other’s arms. You eventually noticed that the sun was setting on what was supposed to be the hardest day of your life. But instead of sad and heart-broken, you felt content and loved.

You figured that there would always be anxieties that would pop up in the future. You assumed that there would be times where you questioned your relationship and whether it was right or wrong. You didn’t know what would happen in the next few days, weeks, months, or years. But you knew two things with absolute certainty. One: you were completely and absolutely head over heels in love with Joseph Francis Mazzello III. And two: he was completely and absolutely head over heels in love with you too.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello fluff #joe mazzello angst #joemazzmatazz

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katherinewilliams221b · 3 years

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Hello and thank you for the ask, obvi I have my own curiosities abt Kat's future life... 😏 If you don't mind, questions 3, 8, 6 and 12 are what came to mind first, though I'm also curious abt 15! I don't want to touch anything that may result in your series spoilers bc it's soo good - but her broader family life after all this I'm very curious about :D

Hi! This took soo long I'm so sorry lmao- Long post ahead From this ask

3. What is MC’s family like now?

I’m leaving here Kate’s direct family. I didn’t include Kate and Charlie’s daughter because I don’t have a name or a back story for her.

Here we have the Williams part of the family Nicholas (Obliviator) and Aurora (arithmancer and the actual brain behind the family's finances), Kate's grandparents, had 3 children: Evira (professor), Erick (auror), Joseph (dtp of International Magical cooperation). Joseph is Kate's dad.

The Walsh side of the family starts with Bernard (potioneer) and Julie (muggle nurse), Kate's grandparents, who had 2 children: Natalia (journalist) and Cornelia (apparition examiner). Natalia is Kate's mom.

This is the Walsh side of the family. Bernard's parents were Taidgh (broom maker) and Fiona (owl trainer). They had 10 children (see below).

Julie was the only child of muggles Ronan (fisherman) and Ciara Flannigan (fish seller)

The 10 Walsh siblings in order are: Imogen(farmer), Muireann (tutor), Paddy(broom maker), Adeline (aurologist), Collin (saleswizard in quidditch games), Cornelia (alchemist, Bernard's daughter was named after her), Brian (magizoologist), Jane (muggle relations), Bernard (potioneer), Seán (squib)

Details of these characters will be on another post about the Ireland fic character list that Im working on. (I might change a few names)

6. How has MC’s style changed?

The first year at Hogwarts was very child-like. She was still that little girl that came from a wealthy and sinister family, always in the shadows and behind doors because she wasn’t allowed to enter most of the rooms. She carried a small charm that Jacob gave her and it was the year she adopted Grimoire in Diagon Alley, first rebellious act since the Williams manor only allowed owls and Aurora Williams’ spider. In her defense, she went to Diagon Alley all alone. Her style reflected innocence.

There was a huge leap between 1st and 2nd-3rd year. Mom went to Beirut, dad was busy in the ministry, and her brother was still missing. She opted for the same 3 outfits all the time.

The next big change occurred in fourth year. She started hanging out with Tonks and she absorbed a little bit of her dark style. All-black outfits were daily and she started experimenting with skirts. That dark look in addition with her winning every single game of gobstones, being fearless in duel and her original bad reputation, reflected confidence. Also, mama gifts her a nice bag.

From 7th year and onwards she shifts to more ‘badass looks’. She still favours dark colours like blacks and browns, but her go-to outfits include leather jackets and boots. Before the war, she became an animagus, which is a black cat form. An important accessory is the dragon necklace that Charlie gives her before going to Romania, and she wears it until the war, where she loses it. Another detail that I’m not going to explain now (still figuring it out and I don’t want to give away too much about the next fic) is that she gets a matching tattoo with Charlie: a serch bythol (with some magic properties)

In her 30s and 40s she is a respectable mediwizard now and she starts dressing a little bit more classy. She is not giving up her leather jacket yet but more blouses and dress pants are added to her closet.

Kate went full witch mode when she passed her fifties. Loving the aesthetic of it all, she shamelessly wears her witch hats to every party, reunion or gathering. Long dresses with pockets are a favourite.

In reality, she is a softie, and you know that when talking to her. If you are lucky enough to be her apprentice you will find her elegant, intimidating and very very wise. After a while, you will discover that she has an enormous heart.

8. How is MC’s and Jacob’s relationship now? (If your Jacob is alive)

My Jacob is very much dead. I don’t plan on changing that. If he was alive (let’s imagine that au) I think their relationship will be problematic. He loved her little sister, but she was more of a burden than anything else. Growing up in the Williams manor was the first curse he encountered in his life: his grandfather pressured him to follow every Williams man’s steps and become a Ministry employee, dad did the same, mom was never home, and he had to take care of his little sister because leaving her alone in that house wasn't an option.

When they reunited, he would still see her as the toddler that sniffled every leaf and flower, that collected pretty rocks and buried her little fingers in the soil just to experiment, all while he tried to read his book under a tree.

There would be a slow and long process of getting to know each other again.

In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think Kate would have moved in with Charlie so soon if Jacob was still alive. The two years that they were apart, maintaining a long-distance relationship, she was grieving and living alone in a flat in London that the Williams family provided. If Jacob had survived, they would have moved out of the manor together and it would have taken longer for Kate to go to Charlie.

12. What was MC’s reaction learning Bill and Charlie’s little sister went missing her First Year?

Well, she couldn't do much about it, it's not like she would go to Hogwarts and look for her herself. But she was worried. Some old fears came back, the similarities with her own experience with her brother made her uneasy, but after confirming it didn't have anything to do with the vaults she could think a little bit better. At that time she was a healer trainee at St Mungo’s and Charlie was already in Romania so there was a lot of letter-exchanging just with updates of the situation.

15. MC’s experience at Bill’s wedding? (Did they attend Bill’s wedding? What did they wear? Did they play a role in it? Were they the bride? =p)

Kate and Charlie attended Bill’s wedding but they weren't happy about it. They love Fleur, and Bill too but with everything that was happening then it didn't seem like a good idea. They were vigilant the whole evening, especially Kate.

Reuniting with Tonks and other Hogwarts friends made her relax a bit and actually enjoy herself. We'll leave the details for a fic I'll write someday.

I shamelessly say that they matched outfits. Kate wanted to wear a pointy hat that Charlie gave her one Christmas with a dark blue dress that matched the inside of the hat.

She noticed the disappointment on his face when he saw it and later found out that he had chosen a shirt to go with the previous dress she had shown him. She changed outfits and with some gold accessories, they went to the Burrow thinking they were the best looking couple there.

I couldn't find a picture of what I had in mind for him because I took the idea from this fanart from cursebreakerglenetive .

That’s the exact outfit. I fell in love when I saw the concept. No tie, of course, the burgundy undershirt and inside of the jacket, the belt with golden dragon details is everything.

For her, a simple but elegant dress, with her golden dragon necklace and long earrings.

Nice experience overall until everything went to hell, we all know that part.

Thanks for the ask! This was fun to make 🖤

#kate williams #hphm ask #ask #mc

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wildnya · 4 years

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Chapter 4: Everyone, Say “Thank you, Clover”

The group was delayed before the first store was even in sight. Why? Dazai nearly died... from a nosebleed. On the way they’d passed a shop displaying the type of lingerie Dazai loved. One look at that and a glance at Robin was all it took. It worsened when Robin bent down to see if he was alright, tilting his head up so he’d have a better look. He was an angel sent from heaven in his eyes.

It was no surprise his partner knew what had caused the sudden gush to happen and reaction to it, a deep sigh as he brought his hand up to cover his eyes, head shaking like a disappointed mother. The same went for his other three subordinates, an awkward cough from Akutagawa while Gin and Higuchi exchanged a look. However the reaction he received from Clover did surprise him.

Everyone was surprised at how quickly Clover warmed up to Chuuya. None of them could come up with an explanation. A gust of wind blew off the executives hat on the way and Clover had jumped up to catch it. Akutagawa and Robin were dumbfounded seeing her not shy away from Chuuya’s head pat. Soon after that Dazai had seen Akutagawa bend over her shoulder to ask her something. He had a feeling it was along the lines of why his girlfriend was already comfortable being around the short redhead. A stumped look appeared on Clover’s face at his question. Akutagawa gave a simple nod to whatever the answer she gave him, accepting it without questions.

It was obvious befriending Clover was a must from watching the siblings interact. Their bond as siblings was just as strong as the Akutagawa’s, maybe stronger. The trouble was though she wasn’t warming up to Dazai, at all. Any attempts of starting a conversation ended with her hiding behind one of the others. Getting the shy girl to open up was going to be a tough battle, or so he thought.

Seeing his nosebleed worsen after looking at her brother all uneasiness vanished from her sapphire eye to be replaced by curiosity. She no longer found the mafia boss intimidating, but continued to keep her distance. Dazai pretended not to notice the younger’s glances, head tilts, and stares she gave him. It wouldn’t surprise him if she knew he was purposely being oblivious though. He knew his mentee was smart enough to tell his lover what job occupation he had before getting into a relationship. Clover would definitely know Dazai was the boss, Akutagawa wouldn’t address him as that if he wasn’t.

“Oi,” a poke from Chuuya brought him out of his thoughts “hurry up and ask him.” the unwelcomed nervousness returned. “Isn’t it too soon?” Dazai hated the way his nerves acted up so much whenever it came to Robin, the feeling was alien to him. “Shouldn’t I make friends with Clover first? I definitely will have to eventually, she is his top priority right now. You see it, right Chuuya? I wouldn’t want to rush things! Furthermore-” a tug on the sleeve of his coat stopped the flowing of excuses falling from the brunette mouth. Dazai scared Clover with how fast he turned to face her. She would have jumped up again if Akutagawa hadn’t put his hands on her shoulders.

“A-ah, I’m sorry!” he quickly apologized when he saw her shrinking away. Taking notice of cat ears now resting flat against her head, he put on a bright smile to come off as less intimidating, “I’m not used to having my clothes tugged on, you caught me off guard.” the ears had vanished the moment she saw his eyes, but he was not taking any chances. Better safe than sorry.

“What can I do for you, Clover-chan?” Dazai added a cheery voice to his smile, putting on his mask to hide the annoying nerves that had been pegging him all day. In the corner of his eye could see her tail entwined with a sliver of Rashoumon. “She’s sharper than she presents herself to be.” he thought seeing her tail tightened when he put on his mask “it’s probably best to be careful when she’s around.” His thoughts were confirmed when her lips pressed into a thin line after he upped his mask level. Dazai toned it down after that, but only enough to let the nervousness be seen. He made a mental note seeing Clover relax slightly when he did.

“Is there something you can’t reach? I’ll get it down, just show me where.” Dazai used a milder voice this time. He was pleased to see Clover’s tail loosen slightly but it didn’t surprise him when it tightened again. Clover played with her hands, opening and closing her mouth trying to find her voice. Akutagawa removed one of his hands from her shoulders. The other stayed as a silent reminder he was there. After a squeeze from him Clover found her voice. “U-um,” her voice was very fitting for her personality and appearance, soft and quiet. It was very cute. “Ro-Robin can-can’t afford to buy m-me a som-something and a su-suit for h-him. He w-won’t l-let you bu-buy him one w-without…” she reached her limit.

Clover scurried to hide behind Akutagawa who didn’t bat an eye finishing what she started, picking up where she left off immediately. “Robin spends nearly all of his time either studying or doing small jobs to earn some extra cash for Clover to go out. There are… complications that keep Clover from getting a job as well, and he’s too stubborn to accept money for no reason.” he glanced back at his girlfriend continuing when her grip tightened on his jacket “to put it simply, you’re compatible and she’s saying go for it.” “I heard my name~” perfect timing “what’re talking-” no time was wasted. Dazai took the students hand in his as he knelt, all nervousness gone like before.

“Robin, will you listen to this lonely man’s woes? The position of my job occupation requires me to attend many business parties every year, and I dread having to go. Every party I attract the attention of ladies there. Though they are lovely ladies and I do not mind making small talk with them, they keep making moves on me. There have been occasions where benefits which would have served us well were lost thanks to unloyal wives trying to hook up with me. It is so tiring having to tiptoe around their advances and being flirted with every other minute, but after meeting you this burden may finally be lifted off my shoulders.” cressing his hand, Dazai gave him the smile that has won the hearts of many. “Robin, will you do me the honor of accompanying me as my date to the party?”

“Can’t.” Robin pulled his hand away. “I have classes and work, I can’t skip either. Plus I don’t have the money to buy both of us an outfit.” he gestured to his sister. Rubbing his neck awkwardly, an apologetic smile formed on his lips “I appreciate the invite though.” Dazai could hear his hope and excitement shatter. Until he noticed the couple had been joined by Gin and Higuchi not far off behind Robin. The girl's were waving their arms trying to get his attention.

When they had it, Akutagawa slightly leaned down so Clover could whisper in his ear. Summoning Rashoumon, he used the demon to make characters for Dazai to read. ‘Tell him you’ll pay for his suit.’ they read. “No, I can’t accept that.” Robin immediately denied the offer while Rashoumon simultaneously morphed into a new message, ‘offer a job. Ah, she’s a clever one. Now knowing where this was going, Dazai signaled them to stay on standby and took the reins. They nodded and Rashoumon vanished. Dazai made a mental note to give them a few days off as thanks and to also invite Clover to lunch.

“I can offer you a job to replace your old ones. I’ll pay you more than what you made before.” Robin quirked an eyebrow, eyes now cautious “and what would that be?” “it isn’t anything difficult, I just want you to be arm candy.” Dazai reached out to take his hand the third time that day. “My job requires me to do mountains of paperwork and report reading everyday, and almost every week there is a boring meeting I must attend or one of those exhausting parties.” he heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m bored and lonely, having no one to keep me company in my dark office. But then I met you. Just being in the same room with you brightens my day. It would make me the happiest man alive for you to accept.” he kissed his hand. Robin stared down at him processing what he’d just been proposed with, a faint pink blush forming once he had.

“I- um- well, it’s a nice offer- I don’t know- it’s like-!” he began stuttering, looking away flustered. “I don’t think I’d be satisfied with getting paid to-” he stopped mid-sentence feeling Clover give his back a poke, her face stone cold. “H-hey Clover,” with an uneasy smile, Robin turned to face his sister “what’s up? Did you find something you liked?” she didn’t reply, only stared at him unblinking as the air around her grew heavy. “What, are you worried about me? I’m fine, don’t worry.” ears out, tail lashing “I like the jobs I’m doing, they keep me on my toes.” eye shifts to become more feline “plus I spend every class sitting, I’d get restless from doing that at work too!” Gin and Higuchi join her with closed eye smiles, adding to the peer pressure “don’t forget I do my assignments on my breaks, so, um, yeah that’s a thing!” Akutagawa came to stand behind them, switching to mafia mode to max out the intensity.

“Fine, fine! I yield, I yield, you win.” Clover withdrew her feline features with a smile. Gin and Higuchi high fived without looking at each other while Akutagawa turned off mafia mode with a cough.

Robin sighed, “this is what you’re getting yourself into, I hope you’re ready.” “I’m very aware,” Akutagawa let out another cough “there have been many occasions she has kept me home to rest by stealing Rashoumon.” “this kid can get your workaholic ass to actually rest?” Chuuya laughed, coming around him ruffle her hair “you’re than ya seem, aren’t’cha kid?” Clover leaned into Chuuya’s hand, smiling widening.

Another sigh escaped Robin’s mouth, “anyway, let’s get back to shopping, we still haven’t found something for the lovebirds and now I need my own-” “there’s no longer a need for that!” Dazai’s sudden excimation startled the rest “I’m arranging tailor made outfits for everyone to celebrate the end of my party woes. No no,” he waved a finger seeing some open their mouths to protest “I insist! Accept this as a thank you gift too~”

The newly appointed arm candy pinched the bridge of his nose, “look, I appreciate the offer but this is too much-” “you’ll be attending many parties and meetings, the majority will require formal attire,” the mafia boss interrupted the student again “you can’t wear the same thing every time. It’s only appropriate for me to provide the clothes, since it’s part of your job. There’s no fault in this logic, no?” he smiled down at him, nothing threatening, just a normal smile.

Looking up at the ceiling eyes closed, he was quiet. “So,” Robin looked back at Dazai, crossing his arms, “when do I start?”

#The Feral Broke and The Boss #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #pm!boss dazai #bsd akutagawa #bsd chuuya #bsd gin #bsd higuchi #bsd oc robin #bsd oc clover #bsd fanfic

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