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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Better To Be Friends Than Competition (Lindsey x Reader)

Author’s Note: This Technically wasn’t requested, but @literaryhedgehog and i had a blast writing this. It’s the Harry Potter AU. Basically, reader is a muggleborn who really wants to be a chaser, but maybe there’s a better position for her on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This is the beginning of what will be a multi-part series following the building romance between two amazing characters and how our golden octet help them out along the way.

@sleep-deprived-athlete

“Alright, you’ve all been told the rules and had the chance to warm up. So let’s start by dividing into groups. Anyone who wants to be a seeker follow Mia there to the far side of the field. Beaters to the left with Foudy. Keepers to the goalposts with Hope. And chasers with me up top,” Brandi said with a wave of her hand, kicking off of the ground and heading towards where her group was going to meet.

You snuck a glance to either side of you as you also kick off and head to your position, trying to guess who out of the eight students around you is going to be your biggest competition. Surely you thought more people would have wanted a chance at a spot on one of the best teams at Hogwarts. Tryouts had been packed for the last two years.

You wondered which drill Brandi was going to start with as you approached the group (said woman was idily tossing a quaffle lightly in her hands as she talked to another one of your competition). For the last 2 years it was always a set of passing drills, where would-be chasers played a very complicated game of catch up and down the pitch.

Maybe those tryouts were supposed to be private, but how else could you prepare for them if you didn’t know what to expect?

Quidditch was honestly a really weird sport. Well, American football made less sense, but you hadn’t exactly studied the rules as extensively as you had Quidditch. Like, the game literally would not end until someone caught the snitch. According to Quidditch through the Ages a game had literally lasted for months. You remembered watching a tennis game that lasted for four days before, but generally the muggle sports you grew up with were more consistent in how long each game took.

“Oh yeah”, you thought, watching the beaters line up across the pitch, “and there is also a ball charmed to try and knock people off their broom. That’s not normal.” Though it was something your dad found hilarious.

Sports were always something the two of you could talk about, even before you found out you had magic. He loved the fact that you loved football as much as he did, and was thrilled by the fact that you had enough talent to play it in your primary school.

Though with your hand eye coordination you had done better with cricket, and baseball the few times you had a chance to play it in gym. So when you had joined the wizarding world you naturally had gotten into quidditch. Learned everything you could about the game so you could give him detailed play by plays about the games when you sent owls home.

At this point you were dying to play. You were too short to be a beater or a keeper, but you knew you could be a chaser. You could catch like nobody’s business, and you had at least half of the tactics in The Beginner's Quidditch Playbook memorized. You were going to be the best damn chaser Hogwarts had ever seen.

“Hey space captain, you ready for this?”

“What?” You froze, heat flooding your cheeks at being caught not paying attention. You slowly turned to face the new presence.

You knew the girl. Well. You knew of the girl (it was impossible not to know about the very pretty blond girl). She was in your house and year (and therefore in your dorm as well as all your classes) but the two of you had never really interacted before. She seemed to already know everyone and everything when she got to Hogwarts, so it didn’t really seem like she was looking for friends, and it was hard enough trying to figure out your new life without having people look at you strangely when you didn’t know a word they used. Not that Lindsey, you thought that’s her name anyway, had done that, but other purebloods did. It was easier figuring things out on your own to start, and by the time you did, you and Lindsey had already established yourselves in different friend groups. Was her name Lindsey? A Slytherin in your year was always calling her strange nicknames, so it was hard to tell.

“The drill. Are you ready for the drill space captain?” The girl asked again.

“Yeah, but I’m not a captain. I’m a second year, like you,” You said softly, your eyebrows furrowing. Maybe that was a wizard saying, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Your heart also dropped just a touch because if she thought you were a captain then she had absolutely no idea who you were.

She shook her head with a giggle (showing off her dimples). “My dad says that’s what muggles call a person with their head in the clouds,”

You cocked your head to the side, your brain running a million miles an hour to try and figure out what she meant. But then it clicked. “Oh you mean space cadet,”

“I guess,” She shrugged, seemingly unbothered about the correct verbiage.

The whistle blowing brought both of your attention back towards Brandi and the first set of would-be chasers beginning the crossing drill. You coughed to hide a scoff when Lynn Williams raced at breakneck speed up the pitch, and released the quaffle at least 30 feet off where the chasing captain had instructed.

You shook your head at the play. It was too sloppy, too open and it would never connect well with JJ and Alex up top.

“Not impressed by what you see?” Lindsey asked, her eyebrow quirking up (trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t interested in your answer. You were her competition after all).

“Not after Alex basically destroyed the same course last year. She’s got an 85% accuracy rating on goal and nearly 60% of her shots come off of left crosses. Williams isn’t getting high enough on the pitch to provide an adequate pass,” You mumbled out quickly, wincing when Lynn made the same mistake on the way back, nearly sending her partner (a girl in the year below you named Mal) into the stands to catch it (though you were slightly impressed that Mal managed to grab it before it landed in the seats).

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Her throws tend to either go too short or too long. Even if it doesn’t go directly to her partner it at least needs to be consistent so during a game the person she’s throwing it to knows where to intercept it before the other team does,” Lindsey said, taking a hand off her broom to shield her eyes.

“She’s fast but it won’t help if she forces the other chaser off her line to provide service to Alex in front of the posts,” You huffed. Having her on that side would be a positioning nightmare. It left the team open and vulnerable to so many different attacking options.

“I am not entirely sure what that means,” Lindsey said, smirking as she looked sideways at you, “but it sounds like you don’t think she’s competition, which is good news for us!’

You opened your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Brandi’s whistle. “Alright next pair up,”

You gulped and tightened your fingers on your broom “Guess it’s showtime,” You muttered, surging forward to the starting line.

“Good luck space captain, you’re gonna need it,” Lindsey called back towards you with a wink, taking the ball from Brandi.

You shook your head. You wouldn’t need luck. A fucking golden retriever could beat out the performance you had just whitnessed. As long as you didn’t fall off your brooms, you both would be fine.

***

You raced towards the hoops, reaching your arm out to pluck the perfectly timed ball out of its arc towards the ground. Okay, Lindsey was good. Really good. She HAD to have known how bad Lynn’s throws were, because hers were positively perfect. Your throws were good, but Lindsey had this way of arching the ball up through the air if a perfect loop so it practically fell into your hands. There was no way she didn’t practice over the summer.

You neared the posts, starting to make your u-turn to pass the ball back when a flash of gold caught your eyes. Before you really thought it through, the hand anchoring you to your broom had already lifted to snatch it out of the air on instinct. You had played cricket for most of your life- it was instinct to reach out and grab a ball that looked like it was about to fly into your face.

The next few seconds happened almost in slow motion. As your fingers closed around the cool metal, you realized just how far to your side you had to lean to reach the object, and how far off balance it had put you. Your legs crossed tightly as you flipped completely upside down on your broom, entirely unwilling to let go of the object you had just caught or the large quaffle still tucked tightly under your arm. Before you really knew what was happening, you were staring straight at the ground, your legs the only thing keeping you in the air.

“Holy shit, holy shit. Um, hey Lindsey?” You called, eyes on the ground below you.

“What?” You heard her call. You idly wondered why one of the captains hadn’t put a stop to this yet and put you out of your misery.

“Catch?” You threw the quaffle, well tossed it really, up into the air towards where you thought the other girl was. You knew it was going to be short, but also knew that she was going to catch it anyway. She really was that good. With your now free hand you reached up and grabbed the handle of your broom so you could pull yourself to it and rotate back to an upright position.

Only then did you look down at the tiny ball fluttering in your hand. The tiny, almost leathery, wings flapped like it was waving hello. You stared at it in awe, your lips ticking up. You had just caught the golden snitch. You never thought you would get to touch the snitch, much less catch it.

“Hey you” a voice called from the pitch behind you. You turned to look as Mia flew from where the seeker candidates were staring hopelessly at the sky around them to land on the pitch. “Get down here. Yeah, you on the drills.” She motioned down to the pitch, indicating where you should land, then turned her head to call over her shoulder, “Brandi I’m taking number 2.”

You quickly flew towards where she had pointed, shakily dismounting from your broom. You weren’t sure if it was fear, adrenaline or nerves, but your legs felt like jelly. You clutched the little ball in your hand so tightly that you were sure there was going to be an imprint in your palm later.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing in the chaser section?” Mia said, tucking her broom under her arm and throwing her hand up towards the group of would be chasers throwing a ball around at varying distances. (You tried not to wince when Lynn nearly pegged Mal in the face again).

“Um, trying to be a chaser? I was always a good forward so I thought it might fit?” You mumbled with a shrug, scratching the back of your neck with your free hand. a light shade of pink covered your cheeks. It was a little embarrassing how clueless you were with the magical world sometimes, and how even after being here for two full years, you still felt completely out of your depth.

“That’d be like using a cauldron as a teacup because they’re both the same shape. It’d work but what a waste!”

“I…- I have no idea what that means. I know I caught the wrong thing, and I’m sorry. I’ll leave now if that’s what you want,” You stuttered out, suddenly finding the way your shoe poked the pitch underneath you interesting.

“No, kid you misunderstand me. Look, you, what’s your name again?” Mia stepped closer, tilting her head as she looked at you.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,”

“Right, Y/n, you could play chaser. You’d even be a decent one with a bit of work. But that’d be a damn waste of talent. You’re a natural seeker. I’m not upset with you for catching the wrong ball, I’m upset you weren’t over in my section trying to catch the snitch in the first place. Look at that lot over there, they still think it’s somewhere over the stands.” Mia stepped next to you and turned, gestured to the group of seeker hopefuls flying in circles near the Ravenclaw seats.

“Oh,” You breathed out, following her hand to look at the large group. They were squinting towards the stands and swooping low at whatever they thought they had spotted, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the snitch had been caught on the other side of the pitch and that Mia wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore.

“I’ve had a lot of practice spotting this ball,” Mia said, tapping the snitch trapped in your hand. “I was able to see it within about a minute of it being released, and have been watching it since. None of them saw it when it was on their side of the field, but you saw it instantly- even when you were focused on something else. That is a talent Y/n. Why didn’t you try out for seeker in the first place?”

“I didn’t know how to practice for it, and that-. It wasn’t like any of the other positions I have ever played,” You muttered, trying to cover your insecurity with a nonchalant shrug. It seemed like the position that required the most innate ability, and as a muggleborn you didn’t think you had any.

Mia nodded slowly looking at you. “Right,” she said, turning and mounting her broom, “I wanna run you through some drills. Come on.”

You blinked at the woman as she hovered in front of you. Your eyes darting between Mia and the object still clutched tightly in your hand. Where were you supposed to put it? Were you supposed to let it go?

You brought your palm up so it was level with your eyes and opened your hand, half expecting the snitch to fly away. It didn’t. It’s wings slowly unfurled and it waved docilely at you. Like an old friend.

“What’re you waiting for?” Mia called down at you.

“It won’t fly away!” You called back, looking up at the woman, who rolled her eyes indulgently.

“Of course not, it’s yours. You caught it, and you can watch it like some love-struck puppy later- stash it in your pocket and come on!”

***

You were having a fucking blast, even though you had no idea what you were in for when you joined the seeker group. Every year when you watched tryouts, you never payed attention to what they had to do, as you never thought you would have to do it. Even without the advantage, you were killing it.

You had been separated into pairs, just like the chasers were, but Mia had enchanted clear balls (the size of tennis balls) to randomly fly through the air. The balls were given a 5 second head start before you and your partner were allowed to race to catch it. Now this was familiar, the jostling of arms while racing after a ball and trying to prevent someone else from getting to it before you. Only once out of five rounds did your opponent get to the ball before you, but really, that elbow to your ribs was a red card if you’d ever seen one.

Then everyone took turns hovering in the air as Mia took ten of the enchanted balls and flicked them up haphazardly one by one every five seconds. The goal was to catch as many of them as you could before they hit the ground, even as they were sent up in different directions and some much higher in the air than others. You didn’t get all of them, but the seven you saved still seemed to impress the other seeker candidates who didn’t scowl. The second highest number saved was six, but that girl still congratulated you as you got off your broom, since “those last few of them went way further out than they did for me- and you were an inch away from that eighth one!”

You nodded, smiling at her, though you were probably more embarrassed than she realized about that eighth one. That one had been sent towards the far side of the field, where you looked up to meet Lindsey’s eyes. You had been placed perfectly to catch the ball as it started falling from it’s apex, but in the moment your hand faltered, and it brushed by your hand instead. You cursed and considered going after it, but then you flew back to where Mia had already released one of the last two on the other side of the field.

“Alright, for our last drill, we’re going to try to catch a real snitch again,” Mia said, pulling another golden ball out from inside her robes and holding it between her thumb and pointer finger. Its wings sprung out and flapped wildly, unlike the slow waving of the one in your pocket.

Everything in you wanted to catch the little golden ball. To tame it like you had the other one. For it to sit calmly in your hand and wave hello like an old friend.

“Isn’t the other one still out there?” The same girl asked, her head tilting to the side.

“It’s been taken care of,” Mia smirked and shook her head, sending a little glance in your direction. The girl stared at her wide eyed, opening and closing her mouth as though she wanted to say more, but Mia again cut her off with a stern glare. ”As I was saying, the first of you to catch it gets to keep it and also gets a boost to the points on their scorecard. Now line up,”

You all flew low on the pitch, forming a circle with Mia and the snitch at its center. Your eyes never left the frantically flapping little ball as you waited for her whistle to blow. There was no way it was going to escape you and if you got to show off for the would be chasers watching you near the posts, that was fine with you too.

***

“Congratulations Y/n! There’s no way you won’t get picked to be seeker,” the girl said, after Mia released you, promising that the results of the tryouts would be posted next week.

“Oh, um thanks-...” You said trailing off towards the end, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t know her name.

“Oh, sorry. You missed introductions at the beginning. I’m Savannah, from two years above you.” Savannah grinned at you, a bit ruefully. “You know, I thought this was going to be my year to nail the seeker position. But with you on the team, there’s no WAY we’re gonna lose to Slytherin. And Lloyd can stop looking so smug about the cup win last year.”

“The only reason they were better is because they had Amy and Sydney scoring. They won despite her and her stupid tactics. If Slytherin actually got a decent seeker then we’d be in trouble,” Lindsey said, throwing her arm over your shoulder and stepping to walk between you and Savannah.

“Carli’s decent, just distracted I think. She had NEWTS along with scouters and stuff,” you muttered, a bit defensively. You know you weren’t supposed to like the Slytherins- house competition and all that- but Carli’s strategy was pretty impressive. The recruiters certainly seemed to think so, you heard rumors that the recruiters from the Wasps and Arrows had a bidding war before the Harpies showed interest.

“Pshh it was just the Harpies recruiter. Even if they have Potter, she’d still probably tank their win streak. At least that’d help my team,” Lindsey snorted, shaking her head.

Your eyebrows furrowed. The Harpies were the second oldest team in the league, and since they recruited Ginny they had been on a tear taking down the Cannons and the Magpies in the final games of the European cup three years running. You thought Carli’s strategy would fit nicely in their ranks.

“I’m pretty sure there were Wasps recruiters and Magpies guys here too,” Savannah said to Lindsey. You noticed her eyes glanced towards Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder as she smiled widely. Lindsey dramatically rolled her eyes.

“Which team is yours?” You asked softly, leaning your head on Lindsey's shoulder as you trudged towards the locker room, ignoring Savannah.

“The cannons of course,” Lindsey said confidently. Savannah seemed to be hiding a smirk, and waved goodbye at you as she headed into the locker room.

“They’re pretty alright, but Ronaldo is a little too cocky for me. Sinclare and Potter together are a lethal combo for the Harpies and with Angerer in goal they’re like unstoppable,” You hummed thoughtfully. You also liked that the Harpies were an all female team.

“Ugh, you sound like Emily,” Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. “She and Sam are giant Magpies supporters.”

“I mean the Magpies have a 75% score rate while the Cannons are only at a 60. And Messi catches the snitch within the first hour 80% of the time, while Ronaldo’s catches take about 85 minutes on average,” you rattled off. So maybe you were a little too into statistics. At least your dad never had to worry about your math skills.

“No way, they’re super into team stats too! Maybe you can help me convince Emily and Sam that the Cannons are the best team!”

“But Emily and Sam, whoever they are, are right. The stats don’t lie,” You said with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, Emily is my friend in Slytherin and Sam‘s in Hufflepuff. I’ll introduce you later.” Lindsey said waving a hand in the air. “Anyway, the Magpies may have Messi, but the Cannons have heart! And isn’t that what really matters to make a good team great?”

You paused, pulling Lindsey to a stop beside you. “I know they don’t teach math here, but Statistics beat heart any day.”

Lindsey laughed and shoved you playfully to the side. “You haven’t even met them and already you’re ganging up on me.”

“I’m just stating facts. The hat almost put me in Ravenclaw cause I just love random factoids so much,” you smirked, tucking yourself back under her outstretched arm (it was just so warm and it made you feel… safe).

“Well, I’m glad you’re in Gryffindor. It's way better to have you as a teammate than competition Space captain. Now let’s go- if we hurry we can probably get to the library to work on that potions essay before curfew.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #literalhedgehog #harry potter au #hogwarts au #quidditch au

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athenaholmesartistsguild · 3 years

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Just finished OMORI and I’ve had Yakuza on the brain so I decided to smash the two together and draw some character portraits!

I’ll explain why I drew certain characters certain ways under the “Read More” section, but do be warned that there will be MAJOR spoilers for all of OMORI and Yakuza 4. Basically, if you haven’t finished either game and don’t know the major twists, don’t read on!

Also, I have a lot of thoughts so if you don’t want to read a mini essay, you should probably skip it.

Now for some analysis!

While going through the story of OMORI, I recognized a few thematic similarities between Sunny and Mari and Majima and Saejima. It wasn’t completely perfect (since OMORI is a much heavier, emotion-focused game), but it still interested me a bit.

Mostly, the ways in which Sunny and Basil experience so much guilt for covering up the circumstances of Mari’s death (as well as Sunny killing her in the first place) reminded me of Majima’s reaction to the ’85 massacre. While Yakuza 4 (as well as 0) don’t really dwell on it much, it was pretty obvious that Majima felt a lot of guilt for not being there with Saejima during the assassination. These feelings he had were clearest when he expressed the belief that Saejima would eventually come back to kill him.

Seeing Saejima’s reaction to Majima’s ‘betrayal’, it’s clear that he doesn’t automatically resort to murder when faced with a potential backstabber.

On an intellectual level, I think Majima knows this as well, but the guilt he feels for abandoning his brother (however unintentional it was), seems to manifest in a belief that Saejima killing him would allow Majima to ‘atone’ for the betrayal.

So that’s why Majima plays the role of Sunny/Omori and Saejima is Mari. I chose to call Majima’s headspace persona ‘Kyodai’ since it carried similar thematic significance to Omori being the name of Sunny’s persona.

Sunny pushes Mari down the stairs because they get into an argument over him destroying his violin. He chooses the name Omori because it’s the brand of Mari’s piano. Music is the common theme connecting himself and his sister as well as her death and his headspace.

Saejima and Majima were planning an assassination of a rival yakuza family’s patriarch and because of that, Saejima ends up going to jail without Majima. I decided to name Majima’s headspace persona Kyodai since the yakuza connect both him and Saejima in the real world as well as the headspace.

Majima’s pre-assassination self (who I decided to just call Goro) plays the role of Basil. At first, I was going to have his Y0 self in this position since working at the Grand and living in Sotenbori (as well as going through the events of Y0) were 1) very closely tied to the ’85 massacre and 2) a period of his life Majima very clearly wants to forget; however, I realized why, exactly, headspace Basil is so repressed in Sunny’s mind.

Essentially, Basil is a walking trigger. He gave Sunny the idea to make Mari’s death look like a suicide so any time Sunny so much as looks at his former best friend, he’s reminded of what they did to his sister.

Goro functions in a similar way. He was the one that got the weapons for the hit; he helped plan it; and yet he didn’t show up. In Majima’s mind, Goro is responsible for how the hit ended up happening.

Once I made this realization, things started to click into place a little more with Kyodai. Having Majima’s Y0 play this role made much more sense than choosing his pre-assassination self. In a way, Majima’s time as manager of The Grand was easier than his time as yakuza.

He got up. He went to work. He went home. Rinse. Repeat.

He was imprisoned, but in some ways, prison is easier than real life. You have to be at certain places at certain times and you have little to no agency in how you spend any time to yourself. In short, you don’t have to think much.

Part of the point of Sunny’s headspace is that he doesn’t have to feel anything. As long as he’s going on adventures with his friends and staying busy, he isn’t reminded of the ways in which he tore apart his family and the lives of his friends.

While the Grand definitely isn’t a safe space for Majima, it was pretty clear he was just functioning on autopilot while there. He clocked in, tended to the customers, and made sure the employees kept everything running smoothly. Majima was working towards the goal of becoming yakuza again so his brother would have a place to come back to once he was released. Everything else was pushed away and likely regarded as little more than a distraction from his main goal. In this sense, he is a lot like Omori.

So now we’ve explained the main characters so let’s move onto party members!

I don’t have nearly as much to say about each individual character (which is probably a good thing), but I did try to choose people who are/were significant figures in Majima’s life. Because I used this method to choose the party members instead of sticking to only significant figures in the ’85 massacre, I’m playing a bit fast and loose with time.

The headspace version of Kiryu is his Y0 self meaning he’s from 1988 while Yasuko is her ’85 self. Nishida’s headspace self is also from a different point in time, most likely shortly after Majima gets his own family.

This is where the similarities to OMORI dry up. I drew Yasuko as angry in her real-world portrait (which is a bit similar to Aubrey), but rather than being angry at Majima for Saejima’s arrest, she’s angry at the world at large for taking her brother away.

Kiryu and Nishida weren’t around for the ’85 massacre so they have no idea Majima was involved. If I were to further develop this AU (which I might, but ya never know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯), Kiryu and Nishida would serve as characters who are concerned with Majima’s declining mental health, but unsure why it’s happening or how to fix it.

Kiryu also will have adopted Haruka, but instead of having the really sad backstory she has in the Yakuza games, she’s just a normal little girl (because Haruka deserves to be happy god dammit). Because Majima’s being a bit of a recluse and also not very socially adept, she’s scared of him at first, but would start to trust him after he did some side quests for her (and builds up that trust meter).

In regards to Majima's mental state in the real world, he would be spiraling downwards because the 25th anniversary of Saejima’s arrest is coming up. Majima's beginning to think he’s never going to see his brother again and has essentially started grieving all over again since that hope of being reunited is beginning to dwindle. Because Majima’s pushed away a lot of the people in his life, he has no one to confide in and just ends up isolating himself with all of his self-loathing, grief, and guilt.

I would probably throw some Kazumaji stuff in there, too because I have no shame.

So HOO! That’s all I have to say about that! I want to do a few more drawings in this style so keep an eye out for that.

Knowing me, I’ll probably start writing some stuff and make some mini comics fleshing out the world/ the AU as a whole. My work won’t be nearly as detailed as OMORI is in regards to the little story elements and connections between the real world and headspace, but I’ll still try!

#Omori spoilers #Omori alternate Universe #Yakuza spoilers #yakuza fanart #yakuza alternate universe #omori fanart #majima goro #kiryu kazuma #saejima taigi #saejima yasuko #digital art #Nishida #my art

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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The Ranch {1}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: Shelby and I have been writing this for MONTHS and we are so excited to start sharing it with you all! As always, let us know what you think, and enjoy. :) We will be going back & forth posting chapters, so look for chapter 2 on her blog!

The Ranch Masterlist

Nesta knew absolutely nothing about ranching.

Even worse, she felt absolutely nothing as she got out of her little red car and stepped onto the dirt path that led to the house.

She had grown up on this ranch, had run around and had adventures with her sisters in these pastures. Yet, as she took in everything she had inherited, she felt nothing.

She hadn’t been to the ranch in years, not since her mother died when she was eighteen. Now, almost a decade later, it was all foreign. It used to look so lively and magical during her childhood, but now it was nothing more than an old, big house built upon a huge chunk of land full of cattle.

Nesta hated cows. They smelled horrible.

She started walking up the path to her childhood home, when she saw the faded, peeling sign in the yard.

Belles & Blossoms Bed and Breakfast

The restraint Nesta used not to roll her eyes was only thanks to the fact that she was well-rested from her stay in Velaris’ newest hotel, the Manor House. The five-star hotel was supposed to be a hotel and spa, but it was more of a resort than anything. After her flight had landed, she had treated herself to a nice dinner and a massage and facial. The stress of knowing she had to come here had been wreaking havoc on her nerves and the special treatment was exactly what she needed.

But now that she was here, now that she was standing in front of the place she’d fought so hard to get out of, she wanted to turn around and check back into her room. Instead, she walked up the stairs, swiped the key from the underside of the rocking chair - where it had always been - and let herself into the house.

The first thing she noticed was the heat. There was a definite breeze coming from the vents, but the air was by no means cool. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping this was not going to be an indication of how this all would go.

It looked exactly like she remembered, not a single thing having changed. The leather furniture was still prominently featured in every room, the rodeo memorabilia hanging on every wall. She sighed as she walked into the kitchen and to the sink, gazing out the window. She could see the house her father had built on the property a few years back. It had stayed mostly empty, as her father had opted to still live in the old farmhouse.

She would not though, she would move into the modern house on the back of the property, close enough to still be there for her guests, but far enough that she could have privacy if it was ever needed.

Nesta didn’t anticipate it would though.

Her own sisters didn’t even know she was back in town. It had been years since she’d spoken to Feyre and Elain and her texted occasionally, but Nesta knew nothing of their personal lives and they knew none of hers.

Nesta hadn’t even come to her own father’s funeral.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. But she couldn’t.

Quickly, she made her way through the rest of the house, cataloging what she saw in her head and already thinking about what changes she would make. When she got to her old bedroom, she paused, lingering in the doorway as she took in how it was the only room in the house that didn’t match the style of the rest.

No, Nesta had never cared for the rodeo lifestyle her father grew up in. Her sisters tolerated it, but just like her mother, Nesta couldn’t stand it.

The walls were still the deep grey she’d painted them, covering up the awful wallpaper featuring ropes and steers. The furniture was elegant and simply stated, dark wood with sleek lines.

There were no blinds on the windows, leaving the view down to the river uninhibited.

Nesta smiled, feeling a bit of pride as she took in how good her room looked in comparison to the rest of the house. She also let out a breath of relief as she realized it was one less room she’d have to redecorate.

She would do the rest later. Being back was beginning to take its toll. Nesta hurried back out the front door and hopped in her car, driving it further down the old dirt road. Nesta used to love the scenery. There were trees scattered across the landscape, trees that Nesta used to sit underneath in the spring and summer and read her books. Her father used to ask her to help out around the ranch, but Nesta was never interested in ranching. Her sisters helped him, always, and that seemed to be good enough for him.

Nesta pulled up to the little house her father had built and turned off her car. For a moment, she just sat in the quiet, staring at the little house.

It was cute, even on the outside. There was a little porch with one old rocking chair. The door had been painted red, and Nesta smiled, remembering it was her mother’s favorite color.

Once she got out, she opened the trunk and pulled out her bags. Much like the main house, the key was underneath the rocking chair. She let herself in and froze.

It was practically empty.

Her father really hadn’t spent much time in there. But why would he? He loved the main house, loved interacting with the guests that would stay there once he turned it into a bed and breakfast.

Besides, it was the home they had lived in as a family. As much as Nesta wanted to get away from the ranch, her father had always taken pride in his family.

Nesta included.

Which was why he left the ranch for his firstborn, she assumed.

Nesta walked through the empty living room and into the back bedroom, where a simple, bare, full-sized bed sat opposite of a wooden dresser. Other than that, a mirror hung on the wall as the single piece of decor.

Nesta tossed her bags on the mattress before finding her way into the bathroom. There was a shower with no curtain, a sink with no soap, and a toilet with no toilet paper.

At least the place was decently clean.

After rummaging through her bag and changing into jean shorts and a t-shirt, Nesta found herself in the kitchen, finding it - shockingly - empty before making a serious mental note to go to the store before the day was over. Sheets, soap, shower curtain, shampoo, food…

She needed it all.

Before she could feel even more overwhelmed, she found herself on the front porch and breathed in the fresh air. It was then that she noticed the little log cabin sitting on the other side of the dirt road.

There had been a ranch hand, hired by her father, when Nesta was little that used to live in that cabin. She couldn’t remember his name, but she remembered his smile. He was a kind, older man who had passed away before Nesta turned ten.

Promising she’d revamp the little log cabin after taking on the main house, she slipped on her tennis shoes and walked back up the dirt road.

She could hear the cows in the distant field and supposed she would have to hire a new ranch hand if she were to keep the ranch going. She sure as hell didn’t know what to do.

Jogging up the stairs, Nesta let herself back in and paused in the entryway, trying to decide what her plan of attack should be. She could clean first, but then when she decided what should stay or go, she’ll just discover more dirt and dust. Or she could start a throwaway pile, but that would definitely stir up the dust.

Nesta groaned and dropped her head in her hands. When she’d first gotten the phone call from her father’s lawyer, letting her know that he’d left the B&B to her, she didn’t even want it. She started looking into what she needed to do and how much she could sell it for, house, land, and business. It had been a decade since she left and she hadn’t looked back once. Why would she now?

She’d found early success in the culinary arts. She studied in Miami, New York, Paris, Rome. She traveled the world. Her father couldn’t really expect her to give all that up, to give up her life, to come back to the town she grew up in, and run the bed and breakfast he started after she got out.

But he did. He trusted her with his dream and with his ranch.

And so she found herself back in Velaris, in the middle of summer, in a house with limited air conditioning, scrubbing the antique baseboards on her hands and knees. After she’d completed the living room, the molding a wholly different color than when she started, she stood and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She fanned herself and looked at her watch.

Only 10:45 in the morning and it was already pushing 85° outside. Nesta quickly realized she’d need to get someone out to work on the air conditioning unit as quickly as possible, and went to the kitchen to grab a bottled water from the fridge.

As she walked through the house, she quickly opened up her browser and looked up a number for a local company that could hopefully get to her quickly. She found one that could work on HVAC and plumbing, and decided to have a once overdone on the entire house. She selected the number and hit send, putting the phone to her ear and opening the fridge.

Nesta hung up the phone, slammed the fridge shut and gagged all in the same second.

Apparently, in the past four weeks, the fridge had gone out. Everything inside had gone bad and though she was used to working in a kitchen, she had never smelled anything so foul in her life.

Nesta has already planned on replacing the fridge, and every other appliance, in the outdated kitchen, so she wasn’t too upset. Just frustrated that would have to be handled so soon. She put the phone down on the counter and tied her hair back in a ponytail.

Air conditioner would have to wait. This fridge had to go.

She sized the thing up, eyeing it from top to bottom. Maybe there was a dolly out in the shed she could use to push it out the back door. It was smaller than an average refrigerator, after all. What could go wrong?

She reached back behind it to make sure everything was unplugged. Then, she slowly took everything out one by one, tossing it a giant black garbage bag she had found in the cabinet.

Nesta was so focused on what she was doing, she didn’t hear the back door open and shut.

“There’s a six pack in there. Hopefully you didn’t throw that out, too.”

Nesta jumped, nearly hitting her head on the open freezer door. “Fuck!” She turned around, and froze. “Who the hell are you?”

He stood there, hair loose around his shoulders, sweat gleaming across his bare, inked chest. He had on filthy boots, covered in the gods knew what, as he stepped into the kitchen.

“I’m wondering the same thing.” The man leaned his hip against the counter that ended at the back door. “Can I help you with something?”

Nesta just blinked, staring at the man, trying to decide if her day could get any more strange. “You can help by getting the hell out before I call the police.” She grabbed her phone, hoping that he knew she was serious. “Have you ever heard of knocking? Trespassing? Or do you always just let yourself into random womens’ back doors?”

The man didn’t try to hide his gaze as he let it drag down her body and settled it on her ass. “Hmm.” He crossed his arms and focused his attention back on her face. “Usually, I like to have dinner with a woman before I ask her to let me in her back door, but I guess if you want to be so direct about it.”

Nesta’s mouth dropped open and she unlocked her phone, giving it her attention. “I’m calling the police.”

“Good,” the man said, pulling a kitchen chair out from the table and sitting down. “I can’t wait for them to get here and arrest your ass.”

Her finger froze where it hovered over the green button. “Me? Arrest me?” She started to laugh.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what you think is so funny, but I’ve been here every single day for the last eight years, I’ve never seen you in this house once.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Now, I’ll ask one more time. Can I help you with something?”

Every single day for the last eight years.

“My name is Nesta,” she said, standing a little straighter. “I’m Isaac Archeron’s daughter.”

The man only stared at her, blinking every couple of seconds. “I’m sorry, you said that you were Nesta?”

She nodded.

“You’re kidding me,” he chuckled, standing up. “He left it to you? Really?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Because I’ve met Isaac’s daughters. You know, the ones that have been in his life in the last decade.” He walked toward her and reached past her shoulder to one of the beers that sat in the door of the fridge. He popped it open and took a long, slow drink before saying, “You weren’t one of them.”

He didn’t move from where he stood less than a foot in front of her. He was massive, but Nesta didn’t cower from his size, although it took everything in her to look up and meet his humored gaze instead of staring straight ahead at his chest.

“Now that you know who I am, I suggest you tell me who you are,” was all she said, not giving him the satisfaction of a response to his jab.

He grinned, taking another drink before introducing himself. “Cassian. I’ve worked for your dad for-.”

“Eight years, yeah, I got that,” Nesta interrupted. “You take care of the herd?”

He nodded. “And nearly everything else. Used to work alongside Isaac, but did everything pretty much myself once he took a turn for the worse.”

Took a turn for the worse.

Nesta tried to pretend like the words hadn’t punched her in the gut.

“I see. And do you live here?” Nesta asked, gesturing to the house around them. “If so, you’ve done a shitty job keeping the place up.”

“No,” he said, finally turning his back to her to resume his spot in his chair. “I live in the old log cabin. This house has been neglected for the most part since your dad took-“

“A turn for the worse?” Nesta finished for him. “Yeah, got it.”

“Do you like to finish people’s sentences?” He asked, brow raised. “I’m sensing a theme.”

Nesta ignored him, closing her eyes and sighing. “I’m not sure what my father was paying you but-.”

“He wasn’t,” Cassian interrupted, taking a page from her own book and cutting her off. He finished what was left of the warm beer and threw it across the kitchen into the trash can. It went in with precise accuracy. “What I mean is, he hasn’t been. We came to an agreement at the end of my third summer here, when money was getting tighter. He knew he couldn’t run this place without a ranch hand, but he couldn’t afford to pay me. So he gave me the cabin, signed it over to me. Deed is in my name,” he said, seeing the look on Nesta’s face. “All of my utilities are covered by the B&B. I don’t pay a dime for that house. In return, I do whatever needs to be done on these twenty acres.”

Nesta stared at him, trying to decide if the man - Cassian, he’d said - was trying to deceive her or if he was being genuine. She may not know him, but when it came down to it, she knew her father, and she knew that letting him live for free on their family land is exactly something he would do. “How do you make money then? How do you afford to eat and buy clothes and other necessities?”

“I have other ways to make money, don’t worry about that,” he said, standing and brushing dried mud off of his jeans. He didn’t give her much more time to ask questions as he stood and headed for the door. “I’ll come by and fix the AC later on this afternoon. I have to go into town for feed so I’ll pick up the part I need then.” He was out the back door and his heavy boots were clomping down the wooden stairs.

Nesta ran after him, flinging the door open. “You knew the air conditioning was out? Why haven’t you fixed it already?”

Cassian turned around and looked at her. “I just told you that I don’t technically get paid for the work that I do. My boss, your father, was the one who paid the bills here. It’s been over four weeks since the electric bill was paid and I was trying to keep this place up and running as long as I could with what little money I had saved.” As he passed through the gate that led out to the pasture and the horse stalls, he grabbed a sweat-soaked t-shirt that was draped over the fence and tossed it over his shoulder. He continued to walk backward as he finished explaining himself. “I knew we weren’t going to have many guests in the B&B any time soon and decided that feeding the living creatures that live here was more important than cooling the empty house.”

Nesta watched him walk away. Once he disappeared into the shed, she turned around and went back inside.

Every ounce of anger and frustration had left her. Suddenly, she was feeling empty. Cassian had spent the last eight years with her father, her sisters, working this land and making a home here.

She shook the thoughts away as she tossed the rest of his warm beer cans into her garbage bag.

_____________________________

Nesta had decided to commit the rest of her day to making the little house she now occupied feel a little more homey. She’d gone to the store to pick up a few decor items and some food, along with sheets and a shower curtain.

However, when she pulled back into the driveway, a silver truck was pulled up in front of the main house.

Elain was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch.

Nesta couldn’t help but smile as she got out. She hadn’t even reached the steps before Elain was running into her arms.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” She said, holding her older sister tight. “Cassian texted me.”

“Ah, the rude cow wrangler,” Nesta muttered. “Joy.”

“He’s great,” Elain said, smile fading.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Sorry I didn't let you know I was coming. It…all happened so fast.”

Elain shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re here. Gods, I missed you.”

There was a time when she and Elain had been really close. Leaving her was much harder than leaving Feyre and Isaac. But, Elain was destined to stay in Velaris forever, and Nesta didn’t want that.

Yet, she managed to end up in the damn town, anyway.

Elain got in the passenger seat of Nesta’s car and they headed down to the new house. Nesta began pulling the bags out of her back seat and Elain, helping her carry them up the porch stairs, asked what all she’d bought.

“Everything,” Nesta laughed, pausing to unlock the door, but finding it already open. “Dad didn’t have anything in here, so I figured I’d at least-.”

Nesta froze as she stepped through the threshold, the bags falling to the floor. There was something that sounded far too similar to glass breaking for Elain’s liking, but Nesta didn’t seem to notice as she breathed, “Where did all of this come from?”

Where there had only been open space earlier, there was now furniture. A couch and entertainment center took up the living room area, and a small breakfast nook now sat in the corner by the kitchen.

“It was mine before I moved in with Azriel,” Elain said, an amused lilt to her voice. “Why do you think I’m in his truck?”

“Elain, I can’t- this is-.” She stopped and swallowed hard, turning to look at her sister. “Thank you.”

Elain just smiled. “It was in storage. I’d rather you be using it than gathering dust in our garage.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, unsure of what to say. “So… Still with Azriel, huh? Moved in together?”

“Yeah, I think he’s going to propose soon,” Elain said, brown eyes lighting up with pure adoration. “I can’t wait.”

“That’s great,” Nesta said, and she meant it, although it didn’t sound like it. She was still in shock. Overwhelmed. She was so incredibly overwhelmed.

“I told Feyre you’re here,” Elain said, sitting on the couch in the little living room. “She said she’ll try to stop by soon.”

Nesta knew it was a lie, but she forced herself to smile. “Great.”

Her and Feyre hadn’t talked since she left. Nesta was eighteen. Feyre was only fifteen, and she refused to understand how Nesta could just take off after they’d just lost their mother.

And Nesta had never attempted to explain her reasoning to her youngest sister.

To anyone.

“So,” Elain began, once the silence became too much. “What plans do you have for this place? Dad, obviously, thought you could bring it back to life. You’ve always had an eye for such things.”

Nesta snorted. “We both know that’s not true. Dad only left this place to me because I’m the oldest. And why don’t you ask me the question you really want to ask?”

Elain attempted to look confused, but failed.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Nesta chuckled. “And don’t worry. No, I’m not selling it. I thought about it. But…” Nesta shrugged. “Dad trusted me enough, for some damn reason, to leave it to me. And we grew up here. I know you all think I’m a heartless bitch, but I’m not that heartless.”

“We don’t think you’re a heartless bitch…” Elain trailed off.

“Just a bitch?” Nesta laughed, sitting next to her and propping her feet up on the small coffee table.

“Shut up,” Elain said, bumping her with her shoulder. Nesta gently shoved her back and Elain laughed, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. Nesta leaned her own head atop her sister’s. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Lainy.” Nesta smiled. Using the old childhood nickname Elain had hated felt too easy and when she heard her sister groan, she knew she’d hit her mark.

Elain stood. “I should go. I told Az I was running the stuff over here and then I’d be back home. That was almost two hours ago.”

“You did this all by yourself?” Nesta was shocked looking at the furniture around her. It was nice, a good, sturdy quality. It wasn’t cheap by any means, and thanks to that, it didn’t seem light. Nesta imagined her gentle sweet sister trying to get the couch she currently sat on through the door by herself.

Elain laughed and said, “Cauldron, no! I can barely lift the coffee table by myself. Cassian helped me.”

“Cassian?” Nesta lifted a brow.

“Yeah, the rude cow wrangler, remember?”

Nesta scoffed. “No, I know his name, it’s just…” That was nice of him. Was his shirt still off? “Why didn’t Azriel come to help?”

“He’s at work. Just started a new job in town at the dealership. Mechanic. Works on the tractors and whatnot.”

Nesta didn’t know much about Azriel, only what Elain had told her of him. Although, if she remembered right, they all went to the same high school.

She didn’t care, though. All she cared about is that this Azriel treated her sweet Elain the way she deserved to be treated, and judging by the light in her eyes when she spoke of him, she knew that he was.

“He said you two got off to kind of a rough start,” Elain said, stopping just in front of the front door.

“Azriel?” Nesta asked, genuinely confused.

Elain giggled. “No, Cassian. He really is a good guy, okay? Give him the benefit of the doubt, I know you don’t trust people easily. But dad trusted him with everything and he’s been around for a while. He’s the best ranch hand you’re going to get for this place. He loves it like it's his own.”

Nesta just huffed.

“Anyway,” Elain went on, showing herself out. “How about we all get together for dinner tomorrow night? We can go anywhere, your choice.”

“Who is all?”

Elain shrugged. “Me and Azriel? I’ll see if Feyre wants to come. Maybe even ask Cassian-.”

“I don’t think-.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Elain said, smile bright, cutting off her sister’s protests.

With that, Nesta watched as her sister walked back up the dirt road toward the main house.

Huffing out a breath, Nesta turned and looked at her new home. It wasn’t much, just a bedroom and a couch and a bathroom, but it was home. She’d make it hers.

Just like the main house and just like the bed and breakfast. She’d make them something she could be proud of.

And so, as the sun went down, Nesta got to work.

#TheRanchNessian #SharaCollab #nessian #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nesta #cassian

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writingbakery · 4 years

Text

“what’s new, pussycat?”

this work is my absolute pride & joy, one that i hold very near & dear to my heart! it was previously written for a different fandom, & ive reworked it to fit here. i hope you love it as much as i do, & yes - there will be more parts to this story! ✨taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @monst @shinhoetoshi @shinsouzone @togasknifes

[pairing; panther familiar! hitoshi shinso x green witch gn! reader]

[warnings; fluff, meet-cutes, magical au, bitchy witches, soft words, strangers to lovers]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

for a green witch in a relatively small town, you’ve got a pretty good life.

you’re not the most powerful witch around; your talents are more centered around healing, crafting potions & spells, but you don’t mind. you like helping people, whisking away their problems & leaving them happier than when they walked into your little shop.

your shop is perfectly situated right at the forest line at the end of town, making it easy for you to restock your supply. you don’t get many customers, but you treat everyone like they’re most important, focusing on what they need & providing them with just what they’ve asked for. you don’t have many friends, most of the other witches not thinking much of your talents or your profession - they were all more modern witches, using electricity & technology to help others - but the ones you do have treat you nothing but kindly.

you’ve got everything you need in your little shop; a tiny apartment just above it, a loyal customer base, & the forest to soothe your worries.

the only thing you don’t have is a familiar.

you turned twenty six months ago, the age at which every witch receives their familiar. sometimes, it happens sooner, sometimes it takes a little longer. you’re just a hint impatient.

you’ve been ready for your familiar since your powers emerged at six years old, little flowers & vines bursting from chubby fingers & small palms. your friends even had a betting pool set up, sero swearing that you would get a kitty cat, & kirishima insisting it would be a rabbit.

you don’t care what your familiar is. you just want to meet them.

you’ve nagged your mother more than enough over the years, whining & complaining at your lack of a companion - both the animal aspect of them, & the human. familiars often became their witches’ best friends, & on most occasions, have fallen in love with them.

it’s a romantic concept, really. two magical beings, tied together forever by their shared powers, falling in love.

you’ve had dreams about it. kaminari makes fun of you for it whenever he can.

still, you don’t need to fall in love with your familiar. you love them already for supporting & adding to your magic, even if you haven’t met yet. you just know you’re going to be the best of friends.

you also side with sero. you’re definitely hoping for a kitty.

you alway tell your friends you don’t mind being patient, but secretly, you wish your familiar would speed things up a bit.

the other witches in town don’t tease you outright, a bit more poised than that, but you’ve heard more than enough whispered giggles of “bet it’s a fly, & it just can’t find them” & “maybe [y/n]’s just too weak for one”. you know they consider you a joke, a laughingstock, but you do your best to ignore them, burying your head in your spellbooks & inventing new potion strains.

you’re good at what you do, & that’s all that matters. but with a familiar, at least you’d fit in. you’re not expecting anything huge, not like the wolf inasa got, or the pheonix momo was gifted. you just want something that’ll care for you, help with your little tasks & fill the hole in your heart.

you even have a little side room set up in your shop for them, complete with a small fluffy bed & lots of pillows. kaminari had wrinkled his nose at the setup. “what if they don’t like all the fluff?” he’d asked - his familiar, an overexcited ring tailed lemur named mina, had absolutely destroyed the setup kaminari made for her, choosing to snuggle the taller witch in her human form every night. you had a separate betting pool with kirishima & bakugou about when those two would finally start dating.

mostly, you just hope your familiar won’t be disappointed with you. you aren’t the fastest on a broomstick, or the smartest with spells. your potions are good, but they take you a while to brew, & you don’t get that many customers. you’re definitely not the best witch in town, but you try your best, & you hope that counts for something.

it ends up counting for a lot, even if you don’t realize.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re looking through your little vials & plants one day, crafting a rejuvenation potion for mrs. parks - she’s got a garden to maintain if she wants to win first place in the landscaping competition next week, & at 85 it doesn’t always come naturally - when you realize you’re clean out of starflower. the pretty little orange & yellow foliage always added an extra boost to your energy potions, & you chance a glance out of your shop windows. it’s a nice day, sunny but not too hot, & you easily tug on your jacket & basket to gather some from the forest.

the air is warm, floaty with the smell of spring & you bask in the pleasant heat of the sun as you walk. the forest is unusually quiet, a sort of energetic thrum hovering just under the surface & normally, you would be concerned. but the day is so lovely, the warmth seeping into your bones & you brush it off as a slight imbalance in the woods.

you find the right clearing relatively quickly, sitting cross legged amidst the flowers & beginning to pluck them. you coo to the brightly colored petals gently, asking them to feel safe, protected. you wouldn’t hurt them, nor waste them unnecessarily. they were headed to a good purpose, & you reassure them as such as they make their way into your basket.

the already quiet air stills suddenly, birds silent in the trees & leaves pausing their ruffling. you shut your eyes & soaks up the sudden silence, an odd sense of calm settling over your body before you open them again.

a pair of amethyst violet eyes stare back at you, barely ten feet away from your face.

you open your mouth to scream, but let out nothing but air; your breath seems caught in your throat, lodged painfully deep. the creature in front of you is still, black fur gleaming glossy in the afternoon sun - a panther, twice the size of any normal big cat, sharp fangs glinting in its large mouth. you just stare, frozen & wide eyed.

the panther tilts its head at you inquisitively, letting out a sharp exhale through its velvety - almost cute? - black nose. you do scream this time, a barely there squeak that youd defend to your dying day as a very aggressive yell.

& then you pass clean out, slumping to the cool forest floor.

above you, the panther simply snorts, rolling bright purple eyes in mild annoyance as it curls its lithe form around your unconscious body, settling in for a nap.

it protects you from harm, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you wake up confused & a little dizzy.

you’ve only been out about an hour, but already the sun sits lower in the sky, a chill sweeping through the quiet wood. you’re disoriented, taking a few moments to remember where you are, & why. youre warm despite the cool forest air, body swathed in silky softness. you burrow deeper into the warmth, sighing softly as you toe the line between sleep & awake.

then you remember the panther.

shooting straight up from the dirt, you look around wildly, all traces of sleepiness gone as you take in your surroundings.

the panther lays curled around you like a warm blanket, keeping you tucked up against its shoulder with massive black paws crossed in front of your legs. it’s fast asleep, not even stirring as you shift a little to study its face.

gold runes run from the tips of each large, silky ear, trailing down either side of its face to its long whiskers. each rune matches one on your own arms, elegantly winding down your smooth skin. a little flutter settles in your chest.

this is your familiar.

you run one slim finger down the sides of the panther’s sleeping face, gentle & light as you trace over the marks that mirror the ones you’ve had since birth. it’s a little nerve wracking, a little unreal.

you’re so awestruck you don’t feel a pair of sharp violet eyes tracking your every move, looking just a little fond.

you start a little when the panther stretches, long heavy limbs arcing out into the air as it yawns. you get a good eyeful of sharp, gleaming white fangs & an impossibly cute pink tongue before the panther is staring at you again, seemingly waiting for your next move.

oh right.

hastily clambering to your feet, you stand in front of the lying animal, just about level with its head. you swallow a little nervously, shifting from foot to foot as you look up into bright, curious eyes.

“a-are you my familiar?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself for stammering & asking stupid questions. you’re supposed to have your shit together, you’re the witch here.

the panther seems unfazed, if not a little amused, as it nods once, then twice, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. your own eye twitches.

you’ve got a familiar. a panther familiar. you, [y/n l/n], who can’t fly a broomstick straight & nearly burnt down your shop crafting a potion last week.

suddenly everything seems a whole lot less simple than it was before.

bracing your hands against your knees to catch your breath, you let your mind go wild, running through a million thoughts at once. what would the other witches say? what would your friends say? how the fuck was this panther going to fit inside your house?

you don’t have a single answer for any of them that won’t send you into a panic.

your stomach ends up deciding for you, the low rumble of it breaking the tense silence. the panther actually does roll its eyes at you this time, standing to its full - very, very tall height & moving to kneel at your side. it motions towards its back a little impatiently, & you scramble to climb on.

you can feel lean, powerful muscle underneath you as the panther begins to walk through the forest, quickly shifting through the underbrush towards town.

it’s much quicker than you walking on your own, & you appreciate that.

you know you’re going to get plenty of stares once you hit town, & you’ve already got a plan set: make it through quickly, avoid questions, & once you’ve got the both of you locked up in your shop, the panther can shift to its human form & introduce themselves. simple.

the second you step foot - & paw - into the town, you know you’re screwed.

all of the townsfolk are staring wide eyed, giving the pair of you a very wide berth as the panther trots along the street. hushed whispers are already circulating, & you can feel endless sets of eyes digging into your back.

just a couple more feet, a few more moments. then we’ll be safe, you think as your shop comes into view, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. you slide down off the panthers back to unlock the door & usher it in, locking it behind you both with another relieved sigh. you relax too soon.

there, in your kitchen, sit sero & kirishima, both gaping as they stare at the massive panther in your foyer. sero’s got a teapot in one hand, the other cupping the air - a shattered mug at his feet.

“we came for tea,” kirishima squeaks. sero is dumbfounded where he stands. the panther huffs unamused, tail flicking & breaking one of the china plates along the wall.

you sink to the floor in despair.

what the fuck, is all you can think, burying your head in your hands.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your friends take it all in surprisingly well. sero sweeps up the shattered mug & dish, kirishima makes them all tea, & you have a mild panic attack.

the panther simply curls up in a corner of the shop, avoiding everything delicate as it takes up a good chunk of the space. kirishima can’t stop staring at it, eyes blown wide as he takes in every inch of the creature.

“it’s really yours? your familiar?” he’d asked, voice hushed. you swatted at his arm with a scowl, glancing over at the uninterested panther. “stop talking about it like it’s not here! you know it can hear you.”

truthfully, however, you don’t even think the panther is listening. it has an air of disinterest clouded around it, lazily examining its paws & twitching its whiskers every so often.

sero maintains that he won the bet, much to your chagrin. “it’s just a really big cat!” he insists. kirishima simply rolls his eyes & tells him to take it up with bakugou.

it takes an hour or two, but eventually you manage to shoo your friends out of your shop, a headache building at their incessant questioning - “so what's its name? boy or girl? did it try to eat you? why is it looking at me like that?” - & all you want to do is sleep.

you lead the panther to the small side room you’d dolled up, albeit for a much smaller animal, wincing at the judgemental look you receive in return. “right, that won’t work. i mean, you could stay in my bed? it’s really big, just a bunch of cushions & blankets on a floor mattress?” you offer, twisting your fingers in your shirt a little shyly. the panther pauses, then nods again, squeezing its massive frame through the narrow staircase to follow you upstairs.

your bed - a custom made mattress that spanned nearly across the entirety of your bedroom floor - seemed to accommodate the panther just fine, and it paced around once, twice, before settling in one corner of it. its lithe form took up a good two thirds of the mess of blankets, & you can’t help but coo at the sight. it really was just a big kitty cat, although you’d probably never say it to the creature’s face.

you busy yourself with getting ready for bed, washing your face, brushing your teeth & changing into your baggy blue silk pajamas - they’ve got little yellow crescent moons sewn into them, & you swear the panther laughs at you in them - before settling between the sheets.

“goodnight, mr. panther,” you mumble sleepily, silently hoping that things would be easier to fix in the morning before drifting off to dreams.

above you, the panther huffs a little fondly, nuzzling your soft little cheek before falling asleep as well.

—

the next few days aren’t any easier.

for one, you’re swamped with customers for the first time ever, people crowding into the tiny shop to catch a glimpse of the enormous panther curled up in the corner. normally you wouldn’t allow it, but the panther doesn’t seem to mind, & everyone who walks in leaves with something - you’re making a killing.

another little problem: the arrival of your - rather powerful - familiar means your own abilities have gotten a much needed boost. everything you make is soaked in energy, & your plants are shooting towards the ceiling every other hour.

in short, you’re probably the most powerful nature witch in the country, let alone the county.

you appreciate the fact that you’re better at what you do, but it tires you out quicker, & you’re twice as busy now that you can do so much.

all of this would be reasonably manageable, if your familiar wasn’t still stuck in its animal form.

the panther’s refused to shift for the entirety of the time you’ve known it, staying in its animal form in the corner of the shop. it simply watches & observes, occasionally nudging the right vial or plant closer to you with its large black nose. it’s a cute sight, the little nature witch bustling around the shop in your emerald green robes, a huge black panther tracking your every move with a fond expression. you’ve started to get comfortable around it as well, but you would like to get to know it eventually, & you enlist kirishima’s help.

the more experienced witch drops by with an old history book one afternoon when you aren’t as busy, the pair of you sitting at the table to read up on familiars.

“it says here familiars usually shift within the first day of meeting their witch,” kiri reads from the book, squinting at the tiny text. you had shooed the panther into the garden so you could talk uninterrupted, & you watch as the large creature nips at the butterflies circling its head. it makes you smile, heart a little fond at the sight.

“it’s been almost a week, kiri,” you pout, looking up at the witch in concern. maybe it's not comfortable with me yet, you add in your head. your stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

kirishima, seemingly sensing your worry, ruffles a hand through your hair, a reassuring smile on his face.

“don’t worry, [y/n]. i’m sure they’re still getting used to being here with you,” the taller comforts you. “just give it a little time.”

watching as your familiar tramples your hydrangeas, looking up at the window with a guilty expression on its face, you can only sigh.

“i hope you’re right.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

nearly two months later, you’re starting to doubt kirishima’s advice.

your familiar still hasn’t shifted in front of you, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion it does while you’re asleep, a smattering of all black clothes hidden in random corners of his shop.

you still know absolutely nothing about them, every question you throw at the panther met with unblinking silence. but the panther knows all about you.

it knows which tea you prefer in the morning & evening, nudging out the right canisters with one massive paw. it knows every plant in your shop & garden, delicately ripping out whichever ones you need with sharp fangs. it knows to growl when a potion is boiling over, or huff when a customer is at the door. it even ran off a few thieves a week ago, snarling with its hackles raised at the foot of the stairs as they screamed & ran. you had given it an hour long head massage, complete with ear scratches, as a thank you.

the panther has settled itself in your shop & your life almost perfectly, a constant presence that you’ve grown fond of. but it doesn’t change the fact that they still haven’t revealed themselves to you. you feel like this relationship is ridiculously imbalanced; the panther knows you inside & out. you don’t even know their name.

still, you push down any doubt or insecurities you’re feeling, determined to let the panther come to you in your own time.

the mayor’s birthday changes all of that.

the mayor always requests a grand celebration, complete with magical fireworks, charmed balloons, singing lilies, & a three tier magical cake. normally, he only requests singing lilies & roses from you.

this year, you get a golden invoice for everything.

the mayor wants you to craft the cake, enchant the balloons & streamers, gather the singing flowers, and charm the fireworks, all in less than two days. you immediately break into a sweat.

you can’t ask your friends for help, as they’re tied up in their own town’s festivities. your only choice is to get the other witches’ in town; surely they’d help with the mayor’s birthday celebration.

surely not. they laugh you away from their shops the moment you ask, a pleading expression on your face.

“you shouldn’t need help, little dirt witch. you’ve got that powerful familiar of yours, don’t you? unless you can’t handle it,” they mock you, & your fists clench unwillingly; you force yourself to breathe.

you don’t need their help, or their disdain. you’re going to do it all by yourself.

you start with the flowers, collecting the brightest & loudest singers from your garden & placing them in charmed rainwater to keep them pristine. the panther helps where it can, delicately holding them between its fangs.

enchanting the streamers & balloons takes the better part of the day, & you’re up late into the night crafting the fireworks the right way. you fall asleep in a spellbook, the cake left forgotten till the morning. the panther simply rests its head next to yours on the table, the pair of you fast asleep until the next day.

when you wake up, the birds are chirping steadily outside, sunlight filtering in through the windows. it’s calm & soothing, & for a moment you’re at peace.

then you see the time, panic immediately setting in.

“wake up! wake up! i have to have the cake ready in four hours! it’s going to take me three just to mix the batter!” you’re running around the shop in a flurry of robes & quick spells, arms full of supplies. the panther just watches from its position on the floor, eyebrow quirked.

you’re halfway through mixing the batter when you realize you won’t finish in time.

you can’t focus on charming all three tiers at once as he mixes, but if you do them one by one you won’t finish in time. you pause, turning desperate eyes onto the panther.

“i know you’re not ready, & i didn’t want to push, but please. i need your help,” you plead. hands clasped in front of you & flour in your hair. the panther continues to stare, unmoving, as though immune to your begging.

it’s too much all at once, stress & anxiety building until you snap.

“why not! why! i get it! i understand you’re disappointed! i’m not some high tech witch in a big city, i’m not powerful! i’m weak & i suck & i can’t brew potions fast without blowing them up & i fell off my broomstick in the garden & you saw, i know! i just need help, for god’s sake! just help me, & you don’t ever have to talk to me again!” you promise, eyes watery as you burst into tears.

dropping your head into your hands to muffle your sobs, you barely register the faint whirling of air in front of you.

hands suddenly flutter over your crying form, hovering just above touching you as a low, rough voice pulls you from your misery.

“please stop crying, shit, please, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to make you cry, fuck,” you hear, & you tilt your head up, rubbing tears from your eyes.

there’s a man standing in front of you, wearing all black. he’s got messy purple hair sticking up from all sides & dark eyes, a hint of violet flashing through them in the light. there’s circles as dark as his clothes under his eyes, a familiar look on his face - like you’d seen it every morning waking up.

this ridiculously handsome man, looking slightly panicked, is your familiar. every time you’d called him a “pretty kitty” suddenly flashes through your mind.

fuck.

pushing all those thoughts to the back of your mind, you straighten up, hastily wiping your eyes on your robe sleeves. “can you stir the second pot, please? i’ll worry about the other ones,” you ask meekly, a little embarrassed now. you ignore the familiar’s prying gaze, simply muttering spells under your breath as you stir the first mixture.

the pair of you don’t speak unless it’s instructions, racing around the tiny shop to craft the magical cake. flour & sugar & icing cover every available surface as you wave your hands, whisking it all over the towering cake. you struggle a little to reach the very top, on your tiptoes as you attempt to frost the highest tier. warm, strong hands grip your waist & lift you right off the ground, holding you up to help; you blush furiously as you quickly finish.

you’re just putting the final smattering of glitter onto the cake when the mayor’s party attendants arrive to collect it. you can finally breathe as you watch them carry off everything you both had made, shoulders sagging in relief.

your familiar leans against the counter, wiping down the tables with a rag as he watches you. now that everything’s been finished, there’s no avoiding it.

“i’m hitoshi. that’s my name,” the panther - hitoshi - offers, presumably sensing your nerves. “& for the record, i think you’re a great witch. youre powerful all on your own, even without me.”

you can’t help your smile at that, a little flush to your cheeks as you sit at the table. “then.. then why didn’t you shift?” you ask softly. up close, you can see tiny freckles in place of hitoshi’s whiskers, the glossiness of his hair reminiscent of his panther fur.

the familiar shrugs, cheeks going a bit pink themselves as he stares at the table. “at first, i was just a little shy. it’s nerve wracking, meeting your witch. & then you just… passed out, you know? i was worried about how you’d react, so i decided to give you time.” you can understand that, listening closely.

“you were so nice to me, you weren’t scared at all. you scratched behind my ears & made me cleansing potions. & you let me stay in your bed, so easily. you were just…. nicer than i expected. and…. and prettier.” the familiar’s cheeks are a rosy red now, bright in contrast to his soft skin & prominent dark circles. you think it’s adorable.

“i just didn’t want you to think any different of me, you know? you liked panther me a lot, even though i kept breaking stuff, &.... i wanted you to keep liking me.” you outright coo at that, ignoring your familiar’s protests as you dissolve into giggles.

“really? of course i’d still like you, silly! i let you cuddle me! i called you mr whiskers for a solid month! oh god, i called you mr whiskers,” you whine, pouting a little. you’d called hitoshi a bunch of silly nicknames before he’d shifted, from pretty kitty to mr whiskers to sugarpaws. you’d been trying to compensate, in your defense, & hitoshi had seemed to like them.

hitoshi’s the one laughing now, smile bright as he gives you that same fond look. “it was cute. you were trying really hard,” he admits, head cocked to the side as he watches you.

you sit in a comfortable sort of silence then, simply taking in each other’s presence a moment.

“so, you thought i was pretty, huh?” you tease, breaking the silence as you move to stand in front of hitoshi. you giggle more at the flush that follows, ignoring hitoshi’s mumbling rant about “soft little witches” & “green robes & moon pajamas, that's ridiculous”, your smile growing ever wider.

you tap a finger against hitoshi’s nose, the familiar protesting in flustered panic. standing on tiptoe, you press a light kiss to the cranberry stained cheek, watching hitoshi absolutely melt.

“i thought you were cute too, pretty kitty,” you smile, turning to tidy up the pots & spellbooks & leaving an awestruck hitoshi at the table, hand frozen where you had pressed your lips.

i could get used to that, you think, giggling as hitoshi trips over himself to squish you against the counter, covering your face in kisses.

just you, your shop, & one pretty kitty.

#bnha shinsou #bnha hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #shinso x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #boku no hero fluff #bnha fluff #evywrites

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thatgirlwritingficsatnight · 3 years

Text

Odi et Amo I

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior

Catullus, 85

After a few years of working in the USA for Disney and playing the role of The White Fox in Marvel Cinematic Universe you came back to your motherland - Korea only to be greeted with hatred and contempt. To make things harder for you the universe sends you the most irritating neighbour ™. Will you be able to find your happiness and accomplish your dream of becoming loved actress in Korea without complying with standards of patriarchal society?

pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

genre: actor au

warnings: angst, foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 5582

A/N: Hi this is my first fanfic ever, and so there are few things I have to say before you hopefully enjoy reading it. 1. English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors. I’m sorry, perhaps in the future there will be someone to proofread my works. 2. I’m terribly sorry for my interpunction :( for some reason they don’t teach it here and so it may be terrible. I am reading about it more but it’s not easy for me as I haven’t practiced enough. I’m really sorry if it’s awkward. 3. This was supposed to be long oneshot, but I was told not all people enjoy long reads on tumblr like I do, so I decided to make a miniseries out of it. Let me know if you enjoyed it and if you want me to write some scenarios, or post more of my works (i have a lot of them in the depths of my drive lol). Love, thatgirlwritingficsatnight.

***

You sat in spacious sofa in your old apartment in Korea. A sigh leaving your lips as you looked through the headlines.

"The black sheep of Korean show biz comes back after four years in USA"

"Whose heart will she eat now? National heartbreaker came back to Korea"

"Go back to USA you wh*re! - internet went wild over L/N Y/N"

"L/N Y/N comes back in outrageous style"

Most of them were a summary or perhaps a reminder for k-netizens why they should hate you; it's because you dated who you wanted to and for how long you wanted to, it's because this one time in the talk show you told off male host when he kept asking about your private life and because the other time you told another one to stop giving you all the questions about clothes and make up while your male co-star got to answer some deep questions about character development and that's to name the few reasons that came instantly to your mind. Of course some articles had to focus on your airport fashion too. The conservative Korean society had a problem with your bra, or rather a lack of thereof under your designer t-shirt. You left out an irritated groan as you scrolled to the comments. They were vicious and vulgar, you don't know what else did you expect honestly. You tossed the phone and buried your face in your hands fighting the urge to tweet something about the nasty people and how they should keep their antediluvian opinions to themselves. You sighed again perhaps if you were in a different country you'd do that, but here with systematic misogyny, where women were supposed to always smile and nod their heads, here where they got paid 60% of men's pay... you'd most likely be crucified. Then again who if not you would come to your defense? You knew the answer — no one, that realization was enough to anger you even more. The blood was boiling inside you as you snatched your phone back and went into Twitter silently mouthing apologies to your manager who'd be blowing your phone in just a few minutes.

"Yes, I don't wear bras. No, it's not a topic for your article nor your problem. I also know it may shock some people but my dating life is not a topic for your entertainment either."

"It baffles me how Korean society thinks its country is in the group of one of the most civilized ones but still treats women as if we were stuck in 50s."

Your phone was already blowing with notifications, you could see some new articles already popping and soon after that it buzzed as your manager tried to reach you. You silenced your phone and left it on the coffee table while you moved to the kitchen. You got yourself a lamp of wine and watched always busy streets of Seoul from a window. It was already dark and it looked like rivers of light with cars and street lights constantly illuminating them. You were deep in your thoughts as you pondered if you made a good decision. You had a good life in California. You had your best friend there, a house with a pool and many good opportunities for roles you declined. In those four years you became an international star after your role as Marvel's White Fox — a gumiho superhero. You knew in a year or two Disney would ask you to come back to make more movies and most likely you would but you couldn't stay in the USA any longer. Somehow, even though it seemed illogical considering the warm welcome you've got, you still missed your home. You missed Korea the country that loved to hate you. You weren't exaggerating when you said they loved to hate you, for instance you always played villains in Korean films and dramas and the Korean audience loved it. They loved to hate your characters and so every time you tried to audition for a role that would be first or second lead you'd always be cast as the villain. The very first time you played a good character was when you portrayed the White Fox for Marvel, they chose you because you were half American (on your father's side) and because you used to play femme fatales and that was kinda the character. You accepted the role secretly hoping that it would change the way Korea has seen you. It didn't. They said you were too Westernised and that you weren't true Korean and had their own perfect casting with actresses that weren't as scandalous as you. Well, at least the rest of the world loved you. Nonetheless, you came back. You still weren't sure if it was a good idea or for how long, or even if you'd work here or just relax; you were just happy you could eat unhealthy convenience store food whenever you felt like and that kimchi was a standard and not something you'd only find in specific shops. Speaking of, you craved some ramyun with cheese and perhaps some yakult as well. You changed your clothes into a pair of black sweats and a black hoodie and chose to wear a black cap and face mask as well. You checked yourself in a huge mirror in the corridor. Your outfit screamed two things: first was "I am a crazy murderer from drama" and and second "look at me I'm a celebrity". You sighed. Honestly what else could you wear? You decided not to change and went out to the nearest convenience store.

You walked slowly taking your time to get to the store while listening to Def Soul hoping lazy beats would calm your nerves. You bopped your head to the rhythm as you entered the store and went straight into ramyun section. You picked your favourite spicy one and grabbed some cheese, yakult and cherry coke. The girl working there seemed really young and you caught her yawning. She apologized and you smiled warmly although she probably couldn't see it through the mask.

"Don't worry about it I'm tired today as well." you said, and she smiled. You paid with a card and regretted not withdrawing any money so that you could tip her. You remember when you were just a bit younger than her, working in similar way but back in the USA; she’d appreciate extra cash. You took the ramyun to prepare it and hummed as you waited for the noodles to get soft. Food always got you to feel better. You were spreading cheese on your noodles when middle-aged men entered the shop. Soon you'd believe it's not your night or perhaps that you got some bad karma, or that you were just cursed. The men came up to the cashier and asked for a pack of cigarettes. You were about to slurp the first noodles when he spoke.

"When will you finish your shift cutie maybe I can pick you up?" He chuckled and the girl tried to smile politely although anyone with eyes could see how uncomfortable she felt. She tried to decline his advances with a small scared voice clearly she was too young to feel comfortable enough to just curse him out.

"You sluts are always the same. You smile at me flirt with me and then act all fucking.."

"Aish!" you didn't let him finish. And he turned your way surprised someone else was in the store. "I lost all appetite," you dropped the chopsticks next to the bowl and moved your gaze at the male: disgust was rolling off from you in waves, and he flinched upon meeting your eyes, "then again who wouldn't if they had to eat in the presence of trash?" You watched as his face got all red and furious, it seemed almost twisted now. "How dare you speak like that to me, you bi..." once again he couldn't finish his sentence this time you silenced him with your swift actions. You closed the distance between the two of you and grabbed his hand firmly. Then you put it behind his back and twisted it painfully enough for him to groan.

"Call me a bitch, I dare you." you said quietly, but he didn't respond, he just jerked trying to escape your hold. He smelled like tobacco, digested alcohol and grease. You scrunched your nose and took him out of the store. You pushed him lightly, and yet he still lost balance and fell. He shot you a glare full of hate and fury while you tried to remain calm. Truth to be told you were scared, yes you jumped in to help the girl, and successfully silenced him, but that was most likely only because he wasn't sober. You were silently asking universe to help you out as you mustered your courage and played your part of "fearless Y/N”.

"Leave or I'll call the police and tell them you harassed both me and the girl." He stood up and spit under your legs before he left. You sighed, a tight knot unravelling itself finally in your belly, adrenaline that was brought up with the surge of fury disappearing now, leaving you bit wobbly. You made mental note to thank the director of The White Fox for making you take those material arts classes, they came in handy. You came back to the store, you didn’t pay attention to the girl that watched you in awe. You just wanted to enjoy your noodles. Finally, able to take the bite you let out disgusted groan they got too soft. Letting out resigned sigh you opened the yakult.

"Miss Y/N.." small voice started next to you. The girl was blushing and smiling. She was cute, had long brown hair and a mole just under her left eye. You smiled back and it seemed to encourage her. "Thank you. You are like the coolest unnie ever. I will always support you and fight anyone that calls you names and.." You chuckled at her eagerness and sudden flood of words. "Thanks kid. What's your name? "Kim Seoyun." "Nice to meet you Kim Seoyun. I'm L/N Y/N." you said with a smile, and she blushed even more. You looked through the window and bit the inside of your cheek. What if he comes back when you're gone, you couldn’t risk it. "Tell me Seoyun when do you end your shift?" She took out a phone from her pocket. "Oh, in ten minutes." "Great I'll wait for you and order you a taxi." "Ah, unnie you don't have to… you already helped me enough and.." "Nonsense", you cut her off "he may come back and I'll sleep better knowing you are safe at home."

She nodded and came back to work. Leaving you with your soggy and lukewarm noodles. You thought about throwing it out but you hated wasting food and so you made yourself eat at least a bit although now it was cold and awfully soft. Ten minutes passed rather quickly and soon you found yourself standing next to the taxi with Seoyun. You gestured her to get in, but she stood in front of you and suddenly bowed deeply while extending her hands in front of you. Much to your surprise she was giving you a popsicle.

"Y/N-unnie I know it's not much but I wanted to thank you..."

You grinned at her while taking the gift. You quickly unwrapped it and tried it, it was strawberry flavoured.

"Thank you. It's the best popsicle I've ever had." You said honestly. Seoyun blushed and entered the car but before the taxi took off she lowered the car window and screamed.

"Y/N-unnie from today I'm your biggest fan! Unnie fighting!" You laughed.

"Mmm. Thank you!" After that car took off and you happily walked back home. Earphones in, phone in your hand as you decided to order some food since the ramyun sadly haven't been quite satisfying. You slurped at the popsicle even though it was the time of year when nights got colder. The taste of strawberries melted on your tongue. It was the first time someone in Korea told you they were your fan, it was also the first time a Korean fan gave you a gift. Despite the chilly air, and cold ice against your lips you felt warmth spreading from your chest. Grinning to yourself, you scrolled through different restaurants still thinking of what should you eat and then you bumped into someone or rather someone bumped into you. Popsicle fell to the ground and so did your phone with earphones brutally torn out from your ears. The man who bumped into you was in a very similar attire as your own he even wore a mask and a cap. You frowned upon realizing the gift from your first Korean fan was melting next to you. You were however about to apologize before he spoke in irritated tone while collecting some boxes scattered around you two.

"Next time watch where you're going." The blood inside you boiled the third time this evening and you snapped back at him before he could add anything else.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going." your tone was so aggressive it was clear all of the frustrations from today's evening build up in you. You gathered your things quickly.

"Excuse me..." he said straightening as he glared at you. His tone was promising a fight or a lecture at least. You didn't feel like any of that so once again today you didn't let someone finish their sentence, a habit of yours as it seems.

"Apologies accepted, asshole." you said fiercely and left him standing there with his stupid boxes in a state of shock. You got into the elevator and decided not to pay anyone any more of your thoughts tonight. You smiled at wooden popsicle stick and quickly forgot about the man downstairs.

Jinyoung was still shocked but also amused by your witty comeback. He knew he reacted upon his emotions when he was rude to you. He was just angry that he had to move the second time in the last two months. Sasaengs somehow found out about his last apartment in which he lived for only two weeks and just started feeling at home. Few days ago they found him, and he was harassed once again. Tired and angry he acted without thinking when you bumped into him and his belongings scattered. He wanted to apologize right away but you growled back at him, and he got irritated, so he wanted to lecture you or at least tell you not to interrupt other people when they are speaking, but you did just that and in very smart matter at that as well. Now Jinyoung was riding an elevator trying to pinpoint your face, he was sure he had seen you somewhere already. He entered his flat and sighed as he realized he had to unpack once again. He decided it could wait till morning.

You were woken up by both pounding and drilling in the wall behind your head. With long groan you pulled a pillow over your head but it didn't help much. You checked the time on your phone. It was seven thirty in the morning and you couldn't fall asleep till three - courtesy of your jet lag. You tried to ignore it hoping that you were sleepy and tired enough to fall asleep, unfortunately to no avail.

"Who the hell does the renovation on Saturday morning?" you asked your own walls with furious tone. You left the bed deciding to speak with the person next door. You didn't even bother to change from your PJ or brush your teeth, or hair, or even to throw something over yourself. You left your apartment in your bunny pyjama set, a gift from your best friend. Soon you were pounding angrily at the door. It took quite some time before the drilling inside stopped and someone opened the door. The man who opened seized you up and down with his eyes and coughed in his fist diverting his gaze somewhere else.

"Can I help you?" he asked his voice was a bit distressed. "I sure hope you can. It's Saturday seven in the morning." you were fuming, and he finally looked at you although he kept his eyes stuck to your face. "Ah... thank you for informing me. Are you working as personal calendar and clock for all of your neighbours or am I on some special treatment?" he asked sarcastically and smirked which made you: first bewildered and second even more mad if that's possible. "Let me rephrase that for you: it's Saturday, early morning and you are drilling in a wall." "Well, technically it was Mr Ahn who was drilling, I was enjoying myself with a book." He clearly enjoyed teasing you, there was this gleam in his eyes. "Don't you think that's a bit too early for a renovation?" your voice was seething with venom although you tried to keep your cool. "Quite contrary. I checked with the building manager, and I am only supposed to keep quiet between ten p.m and seven a.m. as you can see I even waited thirty minutes." He smiled at you and in that second you hated him, his stupid brown hair, strangely symmetrical face, weirdly tight cardigan and the fact that you couldn't do much since he was in the right. You just turned on your heels ready to storm off back to your flat when he spoke again. "Ah, and might I add I just love your fashion sense." he raised one brow and his eyes once again travelled through your body. "Excuse me?"

"Apologies accepted." Your face went from frowned and angry to shocked in a second, and he laughed at your reaction before closing the doors and leaving you cursing yourself, your luck and your best friend who thought it would be cute to buy you pyjama set which contained of hoodie with ears and a bunny tail and some shorts.

You entered your apartment, deep red setted on your face from both anger and embarrassment. As soon as you closed the doors the drilling continued. You cursed under the breath and went to shower. You stood long under the stream letting the water wash away both dirt and emotions. Once you were clean and ready for the day you’ve decided to ditch your flat for now since it was too loud for you anyway. This time you went for less sporty look but still all black. It was a turtleneck, slacks, martens and a beret. Chic and comfortable. You did your makeup and hair and went out for breakfast. The car was already waiting for you when you got downstairs. You pulled a black mask over your face and greeted the driver who didn't talk much and so you didn't have to worry about the small talk. You scrolled through your phone checking the messages you got from your manager — there was about twenty of them and somehow each was written with different emotion: rage, irritation, sadness, hopelessness and so on. You sighed knowing that you should probably apologize for the troubles you caused him. Then again what were you supposed to do, not react when half of this country is calling you names? You signed back in your Twitter only to be greeted by thousands of notifications. Most of which were trolls and haters commenting on your tweets with occasional death threats in your DMs. You tried your very best not to read each and every comment knowing that even though you were strong it still affected you. You were; however, positively surprised when you found some supporting voices. There was your best friend (obviously) who fiercely defended you and called out everyone on their bull, he even threatened legal action and you smiled brightly at his tweets, but there were also few Korean celebrities who took your side and defended you as well. Most importantly there were few normal people, fans perhaps, who applauded you and thanked for speaking out. You smiled when you saw user "Y/NUnnieFandomPresidentSeoyun" somewhere in your notifications. Somehow traffic was still bad even on weekend and it took you forty minutes to get to the café you had in mind. Once you got there however you didn't regret time spend on travel. It was café in quiet part of town, it wasn't very popular since it wasn't in Gangnam but because of that it was one of your favourites. No paparazzi, no dispatch, no other celebrities.

The place itself wasn't very big but it had huge windows and was located in front of the park so you could easily grab a coffee and go for a walk or just stay inside and watch people and kids spending their time at the park. The interior wasn't anything special either, it wasn't one of those Instagram worthy cafés. It had simple modern style. You came in and ordered coffee and some toasts and sat in front of the window. There were few people inside so you sat without your mask freely and wondered if your friend was already sleeping. It was around nine here so in Los Angeles it was probably midnight. You texted him asking if he's sleeping, and he just responded by facetiming you right away. His black hair was still wet from shower, and he wasn't wearing any shirt.

"Yah! Y/N-ah!" he scolded you immediately. "How dare you not text or call your best friend for over a day. Do you know how worried I was?" You rolled your eyes at him.

"It's not like you contacted me either. And put some clothes on Tuan."

"Never. I know you secretly love watching my chest."

"Gross. Anyway.. I haven't called because I was tired yesterday, you know jet lag and all of that, so don't get mad at me."

"How are you now?" His playfulness was replaced by concern and it was clear he wasn't really asking about the quality of your sleep which was in fact terrible thanks to your lovely neighbour.

"I'm fine." He gave you the look. "Really. Honestly I didn't expect anything better from what I got, so I'm fine Mark."

"I shouldn't have let you go. You know what? Those people don't deserve you. Come back to the USA and let's live together again I'll even cook. Or I can come to you I'll fight them and keep you company. I'm can easily stream from there.." You giggled at him and he grinned. "You know I'm serious though you can come back I already miss you anyway. God, I should have married you maybe you wouldn't leave me Y/N-ah..." he was whiny again and you laughed. It was an inside joke between you. Both yours and his parents would always tell you to just marry already but neither of you felt anything romantic towards the other one. You'd known each other since you were two and both of you had treated each other like siblings ever since.

"You should have and now it's too late. I'll find myself new victim and feast on their heart like a true gumiho I am." you said in theatrical manner while munching on your toast.

"Honestly who the fuck writes those articles?"

"I don't know but I'm pretty sure... Oh my god. You've got to be kidding me." you said and tried to lower your face down so that the person passing in front of the window you've been sitting by couldn't see you.

"What? What? Is that paparazzi? Your ex? Is that paparazzi rented by your ex?" You frowned at your friend.

"What? No? It's my asshole neighbour." "Never heard of him. Why are we hiding anyway? You can just tell him to back off. Last time I checked you were great at that." He showed you two thumbs up and smiled broadly. "I'm hiding because I'm embarrassed and I don't want to talk to him." "Why?" he laughed. "What did you do?" "I didn't do anything it was that stupid PJ you got me..." you whispered at him while trying to make yourself as small as possible. "Oh my god. One day in Korea and you already got yourself a one-night stand. This is not how I raised you. What would your mother say?" he teased you and giggled. "For the love of... it's not like that." you said angrily a bit too loud perhaps since the men in question who was just ordering by the counter turned around and looked you dead in the eyes. His neutral expression changing to surprised before it transformed to smirk. You cursed yourself and Mark and bowed your head slightly and awkwardly before you turned around to face your now laughing friend.

"You should see your face."

"Shut up. I hate you."

"You love me."

"What a surprise." Third voice spoke up by your side and you cringed a little before you put on your cold mask on.

"A surprise indeed." You said, your neighbour moved his eyes from your face to the screen of your phone carefully placed against the glass. Mark was still there, still half naked and smirking at you.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes."

"No." you and Mark said at the same time and you send him death glare regretting that you couldn't kick him right now. "I was about to go to sleep anyway. Love you."

He disappeared without waiting for your response. You let out soft sigh and reach out for phone.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The man was already sitting next to you. He was smiling at you and perhaps any other person would say it was a warm type of smile but you felt like he was mocking you. Constantly. You straightened up in your seat and eyed him closely. He was wearing the same tight cardigan, it was accentuating his broad frame and muscles hidden underneath soft, brown cashmere and simple but well fitted blue jeans. You had to admit he was handsome and had somehow angelic face which only made you cringe once you compared it to his personality or at least to what he showed you already. "I don't think that's a good idea." You said after a pause, his expression didn't change for a second, and he sipped on coffee that blushing waitress brought a few seconds ago. "How so?" His voice was sweet and melodic, it irritated you even more. "I am a celebrity, there might be an article about me having coffee with you tomorrow." You kept your tone intentionally bored as you played with the spoon. He laughed and you changed your mind his speaking voice couldn't be called melodic when his laughter sounded so beautifully.

"That's funny. I'm celebrity as well I think I'll survive." It wasn't surprising at all, he was too good-looking to not be an idol, a model or an actor perhaps. You held back another sigh. You could already see the headlines "Y/N attacks again will this man keep up with her appetite" or perhaps "One day in Korea, and she already dates — check out Y/N and her new boy toy". "Yeah I doubt it." you said but quickly added. "Weren't you supposed to renovate your apartment anyway?" "I left it to Mr Ahn it got too loud for me to read in peace."

"I can imagine." Sarcasm was basically dripping from your tongue which only seemed to amuse him even more. His eyes were now twinkling and you thought that he must be a devil in disguise. "I must say it's very lucky that I met you here. What are the odds, right?" "Ah I wouldn't call it lucky, that's for sure." You were currently planning how to escape from this conversation. "So how about we get to know each other a bit better?" He proposed with a warm smile. "I don't think so. I don't even know you." "Oh. That's harsh you do know me. I'm your neighbour and this is our third meeting." He placed a hand over his heart and frowned in pain and you wondered how can one still look handsome while frowning before he continued. "Besides I can fix that. I'm Park Jinyoung nice to meet you. See now we know each other." You fought and urge to roll your eyes and you summoned the most polite looking smile you had in your arsenal. Your phone rang before you could say anything and you've never been more happy to see your manager's face appearing on your screen.

"I'm sorry I have to take it." you said politely, and he just nodded. "Oh I wasn't expecting you to pick up." "Ah manager-nim don't be like that I haven't been picking up only for one day." "Why are you so polite are you with someone?" "Yes." You glared at Jinyoung, he was watching you with a smile with coffee in his hand. "Ok, I can call later." "No!" you almost screamed and cleared your throat trying to remain composure. "No, it's fine." "O-ok. Do you have time today? We should meet and talk I just got something that may interest you. It's really nice drama. I know you said you don't want to play in any of those romantic stories but hear me out this one is..." you'd roll your eyes if not for your neighbour's curious eyes. "Of course when and where will we meet?" You decided to cut off his rumbling. "Really? Before departure, you said you won't play in any stupid drama again." "Ah, I see. I did say that. We should meet today, text me the address then." Hanging up on him, you hoped he got the brains to follow up with text. He thankfully did and your phone barked. Jinyoung laughed again and you gave him confused look. "Did your phone just bark at you?" You blushed against yourself. Was it so weird to have a dog's bark as your message sound? "Ah... yes. I like dogs." You cringed on yourself. Somehow today in front of this man you were constantly losing your cool. He either irritated you or made you flustered enough to forget any eloquent comebacks or eloquence at all. "Anyway it was nice meeting you Jinyoung-ssi but I have to meet up with my manager."

"Oh you're leaving without even properly introducing yourself?" He cocked a brow on you and smirked. You stood up and looked at him coldly. "I'm sorry I don't feel the need." You were about to leave before he spoke again. "Ah… running already... startled... like a true bunny. Come to think of it... it does have a nice ring into it, doesn't it? Bunny. It suits you and you even have a costume already." His voice was so extremely mocking that you felt the irritation buzzing in you like electricity. Not to mention he spoke so loudly the waitress that was blushing at him before now listened carefully. You groaned internally. What if she writes about it somewhere. Media won't let you live especially that he is your neighbour they'd say he is already in love with you. And "bunny" was such a couple pet name. You were in the midst of your internal crisis before he decided to speak again.

"Have nice day bun.." You reacted before you thought, your hand slapped against his mouth before he could say anything more. His eyes got bigger, he was clearly shocked that you were so close to him, that you touched him and that you didn't really care about your language. You on the other had were fuming. You've met your fair share of fuckboys, assholes and idiots but not one of them that had similar status to yours acted with such insolence in public where other people could see you. Well, almost none, perhaps your ex was the only one. You kept your voice quiet, loud enough only for him to hear.

"Shut up. And watch your tongue before I pull it out because the universe be my witness I will and I'll do it with pleasure. My name is not kitten, bunny or any other pet name your buffoon head comes up with. It's Y/N. My name is bloody Y/N." You hissed out and his hand reach out to yours. It was hot from coffee and soft even though his grasp was firm. He took your hand of his mouth and smiled.

"Nice to meet you."

You took a step back and send him the look that must have looked like you were trying to shoot daggers at him.

"I'm sure it is. Now if you excuse me. I don't want to be late."

You rushed to counter to pay only to find out it was already taken care of by Jinyoung. You furrowed your brows and wanted to give him his money back instantly but your phone buzzed and it was your cue to leave. The driver was here.

To Mark 🐰 💙 : One day Tuan... you'll pay for this betrayal

From Mark 🐰 💙 : ILY 2 good night. P.S. He seemed hot 👀

You rolled your eyes how hot was he didn't matter if his sole personality drove you crazy only after three brief meetings. You sighed. This was not how you wanted to spend this day: enraged twice and on your way to see your manager.

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blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

pink cherry blossoms.

pairing: changbin x (gender neutral) reader.

genre: high school au ; fluff.

⇥ warnings: none, changbin is Y/N’s high school pen pal + bf + and she’s a foreign exchange student uwu. 🥰

word count: 1.4 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Seo Changbin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @pinkchcn (requests for this are closed now!)

!!!; bold italics indicate Changbin’s letter.

↯ note: hhhhhh so the story for this comes from when I first read your url, I read it as “pink chicken” siudhyuegfw I’m so sorry if has a deeper meaning I by no means meant to mock it I swear. 😭 Hope you enjoy this blurb tho, this is in no way comparable to your awesome writing you queen but I tried. 😔 Happy reading! <33⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: Okay now that tumblr officially fucked with my self-esteem + the tags I am glad to announce that this is officially the worst fic ever Kai I’m so sorry I made you read this. 😭 I’ll go boo at myself now bye :(( ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Y/N-ah, you got mail.” Your roommate chimed in Japanese, throwing the envelope on top of your sleeping form. You groaned, shuffling under the mess of sheets. It was a Sunday, of all times! What reason did your friend find to wake you up early? You didn’t take the intrusion of sleep well.

“What?” Grubbily, you straightened up from the lower bunk of the bed, rubbing over your eyes as you squinted to look at your friend, who was silently giggling at the way your hair looked like a bird’s nest, all poofed up and sticking out in random places. “You got mail.” She repeated, tucking back her neatly combed hair behind her ear, before plopping a small parcel in front of you. “The letter was attached to this.”

“I know that.” You asked, throwing the blankets over your torso, snuggling into it’s warmth. “What could be so important that you had to wake me up for the mail?’ A soft huff from your lips and you rubbed over your eyes, trying to push away any remnants of sleep. “Couldn’t you have just left it on my table?” Shoving the envelope to the side.

“It’s from your boyfriend~” Your friend in a sing song voice, laughing when you lit up at the little admission. “Have fun reading it! I’m gonna go to the park. You need something?”

“Get me some cherry blossoms.” You stretched your limbs, any last signs of grubbiness gone with the wind. It was officially spring, which meant that the whole city was coated in pink, cherry blossoms of varying shades everywhere, and you loved the scenery they provided — especially from your balcony.

“Are you gonna send them to Changbin?” Your friend asked.

“Oh gosh, are you gonna keep asking me questions or are you gonna go?” Grabbing the pillow behind you, you chucked it at her head, laughing in victory when she was unable to dodge it.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your friend rolled her eyes. “See you later.”

Deciding it as a good time to get out of bed, you quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face and tied your hair into a braid before staring at the envelope strewn on the bed. Your two other roommates were both outside already — you could read the letter in peace.

Plopping yourself onto the soft mattress, you covered yourself with the blankets once again before turning the envelope in your hand. Your address was neatly written in his handwriting, followed by three hearts and one winky face. The drawings warmed your heart as you unwrapped the package that came along with it.

It took you a while, but you eventually had the box opened and the tore the envelope, revealing a small piece of paper that had been crookedly folded in half, as though in hurry. Knowing Changbin, you knew better than to just assume that the letter was short, because that man had the tiniest handwriting you’d ever seen — being his pen pal meant you’d have to basically become a human magnifying glass.

Grabbing your reading glasses, you let them hang over your nose as you squinted, trying to read the letter.

Dear Y/N,

Hi^^ hope you’re having a lovely time there, darling~ it’s been going quite okay here. >w< Binnie misses you a lot-

You bit your lip to stifle your laughter. The fact that he’d actually bothered to draw emojis and use aegyo in his letter made you melt in warmth. You sunk back into the plush cushions as you continued reading his letter.

-and I sure hope you’re missing me too okay !! >:( don’t forget about me !! Anyways, it’s starting to get cold over here and mom forces me to pull over that dusty jacket that only makes me sneeze. Honestly I wish you were here, I miss your cuddles :(( But how’s everything going on there? Are you eating properly? Are you getting sufficient sleep? You better or else I’m gonna revoke my cuddles and hugs when you get back here after two months !! Remember to eat, drink water and sleep well okay!! That’s an order!! Or else. >:(

By the time you reached this part of the letter, you were already melting at how adorably concerned he sounded, even through writing. Your giggles were taking no name to stop as you clutched your letter. Feeling the heat creep up to your cheeks as you sighed, in love. You loved how he could make you forget everything around you and drown in everything Seo Changbin, and Seo Changbin only.

Anyways, I sent something for you!! Open the package !! ^^ It reminded me of you so I hope you liked it.

You tilted your head to the side as you flipped the lid of the box open, looking at one of those customizable “summer greetings” card (which was weird, considering that he’d just said it was getting colder)… and, a chicken?

You scowled in confusion as you picked up the plastic object, examining it thoroughly i your hands. It was colored in the usual hues of a normal chicken, but it nonetheless confused you. It reminded you of one of those plastic toys Changbin’s niece owned — in fact, you were almost 85% sure it was his niece’s.

“This reminded him of me? What the hell!” You glanced at the letter with a pout on your face, eyes searching for answers. For some reasons, butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach, producing a jittery sensation. Ignoring that, you continued reading, noticing a portion of the letter remaining.

Okay keukeukeukeu now that you’ve probably opened it you’re most likely confused and mad at me, and to that I say it was a prank :D That was’s Hyunae’s old toys keukeukeukeu hope you got fooled though. >:) Remove the cloth from the box and see what’s underneath now^^ Promise it’s not a chicken keukeukeuekeu >w<

You narrowed your eyes at the piece of paper, and then the box, noticing the cloth that seemed like it covered something underneath. Reaching out for it, you placed the box in your lap before holding your breath, gently taking the fabric out. You couldn’t be blamed for being nervous, okay? You just received a toy chicken as a souvenir from your boyfriend! A chicken, out of all things!

But, however, your suspicions were put to rest when the cloth was lifted. What you saw inside the box, was by far and most easily, one of the most beautiful gifts you’d ever received, and you felt a slight pang in your heart as your jaw dropped in awe.

It was a dark metal hairband, but the thing that was pretty about it was the tiny cherry blossoms that were arranged on top of it — just by looking at it, you could tell Changbin had spent hours making and coloring those clay flowers, let along moulding and placing them so perfectly. Small, shiny pearls placed in the centre of each flower shined in the light, and you internally swooned at hoe pretty it looked. Nothing could compare to anything you’d bought from the store, ever.

So this was his gift, huh?

“Wow,” You mumbled to yourself, gently and carefully sliding the headband onto your hair. It was heavy, but not that heavy and comfortable enough to wear frequently, you continued reading.

Aaaah i really hope you like it !! I spent about three days making this in craft class, and even the teacher said it came out well (also this reminded me of you please don’t be mad keukeukeuekue), I hope you like it darling !! ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ Remember to write back to me okay !! I love you !! take care darling, bye~

With love

your boyfriend Seo Changbin. ♡ ♡

You smiled when the letter ended, almost (almost) tearing up with how touched you were. Changbin had immense craftmanship indeed, but this by far, was one of the most beautiful pieces he’d ever made, let alone gifted to you.

“Wow, that’s pretty! Did Changbin send that?” You snapped up to look at your friend, who gazed at your headband in awe.

“Yeah!” Covering your mouth, you giggled. “Did you bring it?”

“Mhm,” Your friend carefully handed the delicate flower to you, and you quickly rushed to your cupboard, getting the little journal you’d made over the three months you were here. Once you sat back down on the bed after grabbing a pen, you opened the page titled ‘Spring’ and cautiously taped the cherry blossom onto the page, closing the book shit so it could be pressed into paper. After that it was the obvious, you quickly wrote him a note, smiling to yourself as you ran your hand across the flower crown you adorned on your head.

And of course, when Changbin opened the package two days later to receive the moderately fresh, pressed flower along with your stories and your note, a smile pulled at his lips in an instant.

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor at least this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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yatorihell · 3 years

Text

In The Darkness Chapter 85 - The Battle of Hogwarts: Part One

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 5,052

Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts begins.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Hogsmeade was nearly unrecognisable when Yato, Hiyori and Yukine Apparated.

Dusk had already fallen, sending the village into deep darkness as the sun had already set behind the hills that encircled them. They huddled together in the middle of the road underneath the Invisibility Cloak, taking in their surroundings. The shop fronts were dark and few of the lanterns had been lit. The road curved around the Three Broomsticks, the only source of light and noise from the raucous punters inside.

Yato all felt an ache in his chest; the familiarity of being somewhere he considered home for so long, yet he was a fugitive from that happy life he knew – they all were.

A scream ripped through the air, akin to the Sorcerer’s own voice in the same agony of feeling his soul within the locket destroyed. Yato knew that pain and it terrified him when he knew what it was and that it was directly caused by their presence.

The door of the Three Broomsticks crashed open before Hiyori or Yukine could ask what had happened. A dozen cloaked figures surged forward and poured into the cobbled street with their wands aimed. Yato grabbed Yukine’s wrist as he too raised his wand, shaking his head. There were too many of them, and they didn’t know where they were.

One of the Deatheaters waved their wand and the scream stopped abruptly, though Yato couldn’t tell if it was still ringing in his head or in the mountains around them.

“Who goes there?!” the Deatheater bellowed. Yato tensed his grip on the cloak, and they held their breath.

After a moment’s, silence the Deatheater gestured at the others. “Spread out.”

Five of the Deatheaters surged forward up the cobbled path, their footsteps beating in a thundering rhythm. Yato, Hiyori and Yukine scuffled back as quickly as they could, thankful that the added darkness as they ducked into a narrow alley. The Deatheaters passed and they waited with bated breath, listening to the shouts around them.

“Let’s leave,” Hiyori whispered furiously. “Disapparate!”

A ball of light went whizzing over them, sending the shadowy patterns of the cloak dancing across their faces.

“They were ready for us,” Yato replied. “Whatever alarm we set off, it may have triggered a charm to stop us from Disapparating again, to trap us -.”

“Down there!” One of the Deatheaters called, a female voice that sneered at them from across the road. They knew that it was impossible for them to be spotted under the cloak, but their hearts skipped a beat. The woman and two other men passed by their hiding spot.

“We have to try!” Yukine urged Yato.

Yato gripped Hiyori’s and Yukine’s hands, but the air around them was thick and soupy. They couldn’t Disapparate.

Yukine swore under his breath, and they pressed in together closer as the Deatheaters passed their alley once again. They began groping their way through the darkness, retreating into the poor sanctuary the alley offered, praying that they would be able to get past the boundaries of the charm and out of the village unscathed.

Their quiet footsteps echoed uncomfortably loud, but Yato stopped short and pulled Yukine and Hiyori back with him into the shadows of the alley. Two Deatheaters passed in front of them, wands seeking them out in the dark.

“Whoever set off the Caterwauling Charm isn’t here anymore,” a Deatheater grumbled. “It was probably a cat -.”

“Cat or not, if that infernal child has made his way to Hogsmeade, then the Dark Lord will have our heads on the castles spikes for the owls,” the other Deatheater snapped back. Their voices receded into faint bickering as they turned the corner.

A sharp grinding noise erupted behind them, and the three spun beneath the cloak, wands clutched in their hands and hearts bursting. A thick wooden door had opened in an alcove to their left, and a dark cavern yawned at them.

“Get in!”

They didn’t need telling twice. Yato, Hiyori and Yukine ducked into the doorway and past the short figure cloaked in darkness. The door closed behind them quietly and the bolt grated back into place.

“Up the stairs, keep the cloak on, keep quiet,” the voice said.

Whilst they might have wanted to stop and see who their saviour was, the fact that some sort of alarm had sounded when they entered Hogsmeade, and that it triggered a search party of Deatheaters, made them think the questions could wait.

Yato’s eyes adjusted to the gloom. In the faint light from a stuttering candle on the bar, Yato could make out the shelves of glasses and barstools that had been upended onto the tables. They were in the Hogs Head Inn, a grubby and one of the less nicer pubs in Hogsmeade touted by old drunks.

The bar ran the length of the wall, and thick cobwebs in the rafters showed that the pub had been disused for some time. The bar gave way to a set of dark stairs and they clambered them quickly and as quietly as the creaking slats would allow.

Thoughts raced through their heads but they were too afraid to speak them. Was this a friend? A member of the Order?

They came out in a living room decorated in stuffed animal heads and a threadbare rug. A dying fireplace lay underneath a large portrait on the mantle of a girl who looked at them serenely.

Yato pulled the Invisibility Cloak over their heads, letting it pool of the ground. He stepped towards the window and risked a look outside from the safety of the musty curtains. The Deatheaters had given up on their hunt, striding off back towards the Three Broomsticks and muttering to themselves. They heard the door close behind them.

“Get away from the window.”

Their saviour had appeared in the room, cloaked in grey and hooded to hide their face. They crossed over to the fire and added a few more logs to the dwindling flames.

Silence enveloped them as Yato pulled the curtains tight at the order and stepped away. Hiyori had tucked the Invisibility Cloak into her bag, and Yukine cautiously stepped around one of the faded armchairs, keeping a wary eye on the hooded figure as they worked on restoring the fire.

Yato opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes caught on the mantlepiece. The girl in the portrait above turned away from them, retreating into the picturesque landscape, but his attention was fixed underneath on a gilded frame, its surface smashed and missing a large piece in the centre.

The woman rose and Yato’s eyes locked on his. They were green and wide… just like Ebisu’s.

Yato felt his jaw drop along with Hiyori’s and Yukine’s. The figure before them had the soft curves of a woman who looked far too young to be who they knew and the poise of a leader. Her hair was white and fell over her eyes, green gems that remained unchanged and glittered in the firelight.

The Minister of Magic, Amaterasu.

“You…” Yato trailed off. You are the Minster of Magic. You are meant to be dead. “You sent Ebisu to save us.”

Amaterasu nodded.

“But you’re dead,” Hiyori spoke Yato’s thoughts. “That night at the wedding, the night the Ministry fell, we were told you were dead.”

“That is what my advisors believed, but my death was staged,” Amaterasu said. Her voice was soft as she pushed her hood back. She crossed in front of the fire, golden flames casting their shadows over her hair in a sheen of starlight. If not for the orange warmth cast over her, she may have looked like a ghost.

“What do you mean, ‘staged’?” Yukine asked.

“I knew what my Minsters were planning. They supported Oshi in her reign as Headmistress of Hogwarts just as much as they do now. When it became apparent that she was colluding with him -,” Amaterasu said, being careful not to use the Taboo word on the Sorcerer’s name. “Then I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I was deposed.”

Amaterasu caught Yato’s gaze as it flickered from the mirror to her, but she continued, looking at each of them in turn. “When the coup took place, I fled.”

“To where?” Yukine pressed.

“To the Order of the Phoenix.”

They stood in silence, listening to the fireplace crackle and pop. There were so many questions: How many people knew that the Minister of Magic was alive? Who put her in this small house above a pub so close to Hogwarts and Deatheaters? But one question was already pressing out of Yato’s lips.

“How did you get that?” Yato pointed to the broken mirror on the mantle: the same one that Sakura used to talk to him.

Amaterasu looked to the mirror and stroked a finger along the silver frame.

“It was found in the Department of Mysteries the night that the prophecies were destroyed,” Amaterasu said softly. She turned to the three of them, a knowing look in her eye of what had happened there. “I believe it belonged to your sister?”

Yato nodded, throat tight. That’s why he couldn’t find it in Grimmauld Place; Sakura had the mirror with her the night she died. Did Sakura know that Yato was coming to save her? Had she been desperately trying to reach him before he fell into the Sorcerer’s trap? Either way, she paid with her life to stop him.

“I know that she was the one who brought the Order of the Phoenix back from the ashes,” Amaterasu plucked the mirror from the mantle and held it in her hands, fingers skimming the broken glass. “I was told that Tenjin’s legacy told died with him, but I knew it wouldn’t be so hard to kill.”

Amaterasu held out the mirror in her hands, and after a stuttering beat of his heart, Yato stepped forward and took it. He felt the familiar weight of it in his hands. The final piece of the puzzle.

“If you had the mirror, then how did Ebisu know when we were in trouble?” Yukine asked.

“The Order of the Phoenix is connected,” Amaterasu held her hands in front of her, as poised as if she were standing in the Ministry itself. “One message was all it took.”

Kofuku, Yato realised. She had got the message to Ebisu from Amaterasu when he asked for help. She had hidden the Minster of Magic right under the Sorcerer’s and Deatheater’s noses in Hogsmeade. Fiery, feisty Madame Kofuku.

“But why?” Yato shook his head slightly as he looked up from his fractured reflection. “Why would Kofuku put you here in plain sight? Deatheaters could find you at any moment.”

“Not with the right charms, and besides,” Amaterasu crossed over to the fireplace again. The girl in the painting was returning, a blob steadily growing larger with another shape bobbing along after her. “She knew that you would need a way home.”

Before the girl could stop in the frame of her painted prison, the portrait swung open on hidden hinges, revealing a tunnel that stretched into the darkness. A boy with dirty glasses and messy hair was crouched on one knee, eyes keen and smile lopsided as he caught sight of Yato, Hiyori and Yukine.

“Madame Kofuku has received your message,” Kazuma announced. “The final horcrux is within the castle. The time has come to end this, once and for all.”

The tunnel gave way to smooth steps that levelled off into an earthy passageway. The walls were fixed with dim lanterns that barely lit the path ahead as the portrait swung shut behind them, plunging them into darkness. Kazuma led the way, followed by Yato, Yukine and Hiyori.

“How did you find us?” Hiyori asked. “How do we know that no one else knows about this tunnel?

“Amaterasu,” Kazuma said simply. “She sent the girl in the painting to tell us you had arrived. Once we told Kofuku about the horcrux being in Hogwarts, she knew that you would come straight to Hogsmeade. It’s just pure luck that you happened to end up right at our door.”

“Did you know about this one?” Yukine asked Yato, referring to the winding passage ahead. His eyes were just about able to make out the blot of his outline as they turned a corner.

“I never knew about this one. It must have been here for years…” Yato shook his head. He thought he knew all of Hogwarts’ secrets, but here they were in one right now. His attention turned to Kazuma. “I thought there were only seven passages into Hogwarts?”

“All the passages were sealed at the beginning of the year in case you tried to get back into Hogwarts,” Kazuma said. “They set up curses and checkpoints at all the exits just in case. Either way, we still have a back door into the castle.”

The horcrux was definitely in Hogwarts if the sorcerer had taken such measures, Yato thought to himself. At least it was for now.

Kazuma turned his head slightly, light glinting off his glasses and a grin on his lips. “Did you break into Gringotts? Did you escape on a dragon? It’s all over the newspapers, everyone is talking about it.”

“We did, we got Helga Hufflepuff’s goblet,” Yukine said.

“And the dragon?”

“Set it free.”

Their shadows flickered up the wall as they passed another torch, their footsteps muffled and the tension palpable.

“What’s happened to Hogwarts?” Yato asked quietly. If Oshi’s rule under Amaterasu was anything to go by, it would be unimaginable to think of what she could do now with the Sorcerer I charge.

The smile slipped from Kazuma’s lips. He turned to face forward. “It’s… well, Madame Kofuku is the only one of us who knows what it's really like now. Defence Against the Dark Arts is just Dark Arts now. They make students use the Cruciatus Curse on students who have detention -.”

There was an audible gasp from Hiyori, the flames stuttering in their lamps as if they too were scandalised by the suggestion of forcing children to use and suffer Unforgiveable Curses.

Yukine pressed his lips together, fingers unconsciously going to the faint scar at his hand. “What else?”

“Muggle Studies – its compulsory now –, teaching students how Muggles are animals who stole witchcraft and forced us into hiding, and that ‘Our Lord’ is re-establishing the natural order.”

There was a moment's silence that passed between them, interrupted by the scuffling of their own feet. Hogwarts, their home, had been turned into hell.

The passage had narrowed and become steeped, a few sparse steps noting that they were rising up to the surface. They were walking straight into the dragon’s lair. What would await them?

The question was answered a few minutes later.

They approached a door similar to the one that shut behind them at the Hogs Head Inn. Kazuma burst through the door triumphantly. “He’s here!”

A jolt of panic shot through Yato, Yukine and Hiyori, quickly followed by a wave of guilt at realising that they thought that Kazuma had betrayed them again to Deatheaters. A wave of cheers went up from the room as Kazuma jumped down from the ledge, followed by Yato, Yukine and Hiyori.

A bookshelf had been dragged away from the wall, standing haphazardly in a crowd of people to hide the presence of the door they had just come through. He took in the faces around him – cheerful, hopeful faces – of students he didn’t recognise yet recognised him, the one who had come to defeat the Sorcerer.

Yato took in the blackened stone walls and the familiar chill of being underneath the Great Lake; they had ended up in a disused potions classroom in the dungeons. Yato remembered how Kofuku had told him that she was the cause for several of the classrooms being abandoned following experiments that failed spectacularly and gave her pink hair. Pink hair that he could see coming straight towards him.

Kofuku threw her arms around Yato, Yukine and Hiyori, though she was not able to reach around all the way.

“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking breaking into Gringotts,” Kofuku pulled away from them with tears in her eyes. “But I’m glad you’re ok.”

Yato felt an unwelcome lump rise in his throat. “You too, Miss.”

Kofuku turned and Yato finally noticed Daikoku, Bishamon and Kazuma now stood behind her, smiles on their faces. Daikoku wrapped the three of them in a bear hug, and to Yato’s surprise, Bishamon did the same.

“You’ve been recruiting,” Yukine observed, feeling awkward that so many eyes were fixed on them, the chatter and the whispers as they looked to them for instructions.

“We moved underground, but yes,” Kofuku admitted. “The only way to take the castle is from inside. We don’t have much choice, but the students are happy to fight for their home.”

Yato picked out a few familiar faces in the crowd as they moved through: Touma, the Ravenclaw girl who had rallied the Order to help them at the Ministry of Magic the night Sakura died. Ex-students in Yato’s own year that he had classes and battled in Quidditch. Hiyori’s friends, Aimi and Yama, hugged her tight and cried. So many faces, so many of them young and fearless.

Yato had a sudden realisation that, just like Father, he had his own child army. For good or evil, forced or volunteered, they were still children playing at war. But for them, this was a battle they had to fight. This was a battle they had to win.

The Battle of Hogwarts.

A black cloud hung over Hogwarts, the evening threatening a storm that would wash over the mountains and engulf the castle in summer darkness.

Oshi watched over the uniform lines of students marching through the courtyard into the Great Hall, their footsteps echoing in perfect synchronicity. She would’ve sighed in contentedness if not for the news she’d received. Her madness seemed to subside when things went her way, but now she could feel it rising like potion turned foul.

Her Lord would not be pleased if the rumours were true.

Oshi’s footsteps resounded in the Great Hall as she passed through the neat lines of students. The professors stood on the edges of the room, their eyes following her with a sadness she couldn’t understand. Two of her most trusted Deatheaters stood at the head of the room on either side of where her throne should have been. The furnishings of the room had been removed on this occasion, leaving it as bare as the vault above them.

The ceiling had not been decorated with lights or frivolity for her entire reign of Hogwarts, leaving the room bland and dingy as the storm clouds blocked the suns rays from illuminating the hall. She stopped at the bottom step in front of the largest window at the back of the hall, keeping her back to the students. She could feel their eyes on her as she collected herself before she slowly turned to face the room.

“Many of you will wonder why you have been summoned at this hour,” Oshi said clearly. Her voice carried across the room in a way that she loved, knowing that her children hung on her every word. Her eyes grazed the faces of those in the front rows, but none would meet her eye, their heads hung low.

Oshi folded her hands in front of her stomach, barely touching her pristine white robes. “It has come to my attention that, earlier this evening, Yaboku was sighted in Hogsmeade.”

The student’s heads rose instantly at this revelation, their eyes catching each other and smatterings of whispers erupted around the room. Oshi narrowed her eyes. They almost sounded happy to hear he was alive.

“Now,” Oshi cut through the talk with her crisp curtness, silencing them instantly. “Should anyone attempt to aide Yaboku, or conceal information of his whereabouts, they will be punished in a manner consistent of the severity of their crime.”

Oshi put one foot in front of the other, the click of her heels on the flagstones echoing around the chamber as she surveyed the students with cool grey eyes. As time passed, she thought of these students as her children, and she as their mother. She could give them grace. She could be fair. She could be merciful.

“If anyone had any knowledge of Yaboku’s movements this evening, I invite them to step forward…” Oshi let them hang on her words, slowly turning her head to try and make eye contact with any of the children who desperately avoided her look. “Now.”

Silence hung in the air. No one would raise their heads.

Someone broke rank, stepping in the cross path between the student's houses division. They threw back the hood of their black robe and there, right before her very eyes, stood Yaboku.

A ripple of exclamations and gasps filled the room, heads turning to catch a glimpse of what had happened. The Deatheaters behind Oshi came to attention, their wands drawn and aimed at him, awaiting the order.

Yato glared at Oshi, teeth bared into a snarl. “Despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, it seems you still have a bit of a security issue, Headmistress.”

The doors of the Great Hall burst open. Kofuku and Daikoku spearheaded the Order of the Phoenix as they fanned out to block the exit. Hiyori, Yukine, Kazuma and Bishamon stood side by side, wands drawn.

“How dare you stand where he once stood,” Yato spat, the emotion a clear weakness in his voice but he didn’t care. All that Tenjin had done for Hogwarts in one hundred years had unravelled in a few months.

The air bristled with electricity as the students veered away from the centre of the room, pressing in on each other with gasps and shrieks as Oshi drew her wand and bared her teeth, and the other Deatheaters followed suit. Yato’s wand twitched in his hand, but his view of the hateful witch was quickly obscured by a figure slightly shorter than him. Kofuku stood between him and Oshi her wand aimed square at her chest. The Order shifted behind them, Daikoku’s eyes glinting dangerously as he watched the scene unfold before him.

No one moved.

Kofuku took the first shot, a bolt of red light spitting from her wand. Oshi deflected it easily and volleyed a curse back, but the green light dissipated instantly against the protective shield Kofuku had thrown up. Another spell spat from Kofuku’s wand, this time green and deadly, and it missed its mark on a Deatheater behind Oshi, crumpling to the ground in a heap of black robes.

Yato gripped his wand, willing Kofuku to move out of the way so he could kill Oshi himself, but she only advanced forwards, throwing out spells faster than Yato could keep track of.

The Great Hall was filled with the sounds of spells shattering on the flagstones, the window arches and the occasional grunt as Oshi was forced back. The second Deatheater fell when Oshi deflected a spell to the side which hit him in her stead, and in that moment Yato saw the fear on her face when she realised this was a fight she could not win.

Oshi turned her back, morphing into a billowing shape resembling a Dementors cloak before bursting through the window behind her, shattering it into a thousand crystalline pieces as she fled into the sky.

“Coward!” Kofuku screamed to the darkening sky. A roar went up from the students, surging forward in celebration at the victory – Hogwarts was free.

Yato felt hands grab at him, students he had seen down in the dungeons only hours before and others he didn’t know but knew him – the Chosen One, Undesirable Number One, the one who would defeat the Sorcerer. Then Hiyori and Yukine were in front of him, and he caught sight of Daikoku taking Kofuku in his arms and the blur of Bishamon’s hair beside them.

Yato’s eyes focused on Professor Tsuyu approaching through the crowd, her face sallower than what he remembered when Professor Tenjin was alive, but there was still a spark in her eye when she faced him.

“I hope you have a reason for returning, Yato,” Oshi said softly, her features wretched in worry. “What do you need?”

“Time, as much as you can get us,” Yato urged.

“Oshi will be heading straight to the Sorcerer to tell him that you’re here.”

Yato nodded. “Kuguha possesses the Elder Wand. We need to destroy the final Horcruxes before the Sorcerer realises that its power is not his. If he realises and kills Kuguha before then, it’ll be over.”

“The rest of the Order is coming,” Kofuku said, coming up beside them with Daikoku, Kazuma and Bishamon in tow. She looked to Professor Tsuyu. “Do what you have to do. We’ll secure the castle.”

Yato nodded and Professor Tsuyu, Kofuku and Daikoku dispersed, running out of the Great Hall to prepare the defences for the Sorcerer’s inevitable arrival.

Yato shucked off the school robe turned to Kazuma and Bishamon. “Even with the defences, we need to make sure there’s no way into Hogwarts - destroy the wooden bridge, detonate it, even the tunnels. Make sure there’s no way in or out.”

“On it,” Bishamon grabbed Kazuma’s hand and they took off into the crowd. From the look on Kazuma’s face as he looked over his shoulder it seemed he didn’t even think to argue about what they were about to do.

Yato turned to Yukine next, gesturing to Hiyori’s bag which she dove into instantly. “The goblet needs to be destroyed. There’s only one way to destroy it without the Sword of Gryffindor – Basilisk venom.”

“Got it,” Yukine confirmed, grabbing the cup from Hiyori’s hands. “The Basilisk skeleton is still in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Yukine paused after a step before grabbing Yato and Hiyori around the necks in a tight, brief hug. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“You too,” Yato said.

He and Hiyori watched and Yukine jogged away through the dispersing crowd, noticing how the students were organising themselves at the teacher’s orders, stripping to their shirtsleeves and brandishing their wands in the face of the Sorcerer’s arrival.

“Hiyori, I don’t have the first idea where the diadem is,” Yato confessed. “No one live has seen it, and it’s a big castle. I need you to try and find anything about it – break into Ravenclaw Tower, ask the paintings, get into the restricted section in the library.”

“Yato -,” Hiyori started.

But where to start? Hogwarts was under attack. Yukine was returning to the place of his nightmares. There was no escape from here. This day was always coming, but she always thought they would face it together.

Yato knew the words that were on her lips through the look in her eyes. He had experienced this feeling a thousand times as he debated his actions and their consequences on those around him, even more so in the last year.

Yato took Hiyori’s hand and stepped closer. Hiyori looked at him, startled, and her eyes involuntarily dropped. Yato touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. He let himself soak in the moment – one of his last on this night – before he strengthened his resolve.

"Don't worry about me," Yato opened his eyes, looking straight into hers. "I’ll see you soon.”

Kofuku stood in the central courtyard of the castle, her wand aimed to the night sky.

Beside her stood Daikoku, his hand tight in hers. The Order, their foreign friends from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons Okuninushi and Kinuha, and a sea of teachers and students who were powerful enough to cast such strong protection magic.

A stream of charms murmured from her lips, repetitive, resounding all around her in a chant, a prayer, for salvation.

“Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri, Repello Inimicum. Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri, Repello Inimicum.”

Filmy wisps escaped her wand, filtering up to the sky and joining the others that had begun to bleed and shimmer together in a protective barrier that encased Hogwarts beneath a shimmering bubble of incandescent light.

Professor Tsuyu stood before the entrance hall, the oaken door spread wide open. The foreboding darkness ahead on the viaduct, the most direct path to Hogwarts, told her that in the distance, invisible in the darkness, someone was watching. She turned her back and faced the grand, ancient castle and raised her hands, wand held delicately between her fingers.

“Piertotum Locomotor!”

A reverberating grating of stone rumble through the castle. The carvings that had stood silent and sentinel in the castle walls shifted and propelled themselves from their casings. The ground rumbled on each impact as the guards hit the floor and marched forward onto the viaduct, each holding an armoire of weapons: halberds, swords, morningstars, and axes.

Professor Tsuyu watched as the army came to life, and in the distance, so did the Sorcerer.

Hogwarts was protected in a pitiful attempt to stop the inevitable.

The Sorcerer looked down on the castle in disdain. A group of children had taken his stronghold from a witch who had failed him time and time again. He could feel her nervousness as she stood behind him alongside Kuguha, who’s disposition had changed once he saw the Sorcerer slaughter a room of loyal servants when Hufflepuff’s cup was stolen from Gringotts.

“My Lord…” Kuguha said. He had taken a step forward, a bold thing to do on a night such as this when the fate of the world hung in the balance. The Sorcerer looked over his shoulder, and the poison in his glare sent Kuguha slithering back into the ranks of his army without another word.

Kuguha’s only worth so far had been to murder Tenjin and retrieve the Elder Wand, but even now in his grip, he could feel its resistance to him. He was used to wanton disobedience from his children, but this power would not yield to him.

The time for watching and waiting was over. The Sorcerer looked to his beloved pet, his obedient child who would not betray him like Yaboku.

“Come, Nagini.”

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yato #yukine #hiyori #kazuma #bishamon #daikoku #kofuku #yatori #kazubisha #daifuku #hp au #harry potter au #in the darkness #my writing

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jasons-exposedspine · 4 years

Text

Prompt list

hey guys so my best friend and i made a long ass prompt list. the rules are that you can only pick a limit of five prompts and send them to me with a ship and OC of mine. like for example Reagan and Negan or Clem and Cas or Destiel or Willow and sam or Laylahni and Dean. i only write for supernatural and the walking dead. so get as creative as you want but i know no one will read this post so if you are reading this please send in a request i am really fucking desperate.

1: Hand holding

2: Hair playing

3: Lap sitting

4: “Friends”

5: Tickling

6: Dancing

7: Cuddling

8: Hugging

9: Character death

10: Resurrection

11: Date

12: Valentines Day

13: Admitting their feelings

14: Piggy back ride

15: Swimming

16: Teleporting to a different place

17: Carrying the other

18: Sad

19: Comforting them

20: Making out

21: Pulling down by tie, bandana, etc and kissing them

22: Being protective

23: Dying for the other; sacrifice

24: Getting drunk

25: Snuggling

26: Wrapping their arms around the other from behind

27: Cheek kissing

28: Forehead kissing

29: First experience in the love department

30: Yelling at them for not being more careful

31: Showering/bathing together

32: Picnic

33: Cooking

34: Licking food off the other

35: Going on a hunt/run together.

36: Tracing their face

37: Wearing the other’s clothes

38: Braiding their hair

39: Teaching them about feelings

40: Teaching them other things (wink wink)

41: Argument

42: Comforting them after an anxiety/panic attack

43: making them happy when they are down

44: Calming them/sleeping with them after a nightmare

45: Putting their head on the other’s shoulder

46: Treating an injury/kissing their boo boos better

47: Food fight

48: Forehead touching

49: Nose touching

50: Guess who

51: Chin resting on top of head

52: Sleeping on the others’ chest

53: Intense eye contact

54: Being caught staring

55: Playing with their hands

56: Telling them what’s wrong

57: They have to leave to keep them safe

58: Break up

59: Getting back together

60: Pregnancy

61: Miscarriage

62: Normal Birth

63: Marriage

64: Fixing their clothes/hair

65: Driving together in a car

66: In the backseat (wink wink)

67: Snuggling In the backseat

68: Resting their hand on the other’s thigh

69: Sex

70: Watching movies together

71: Cinema

72: Height Difference

73: Annoying each other

74: Stargazing

75. Waking up to them

76. Shelter from the rain

77: ice cream

78: being rescued/saved

79: listening to music together

80: texting

81: falling asleep on the other

82: accidentally kiss

83: being badass together

84: lOsT iN tHe wOoDs!!

85: camping

86: spooning

87: huddling for warmth

88: first kiss

89: first meet

90: one looking schmexy and the other being attracted

91: lip biting

92: wearing the other’s accessories; glasses, jacket, tie, hat, etc.

93: annoying them at work/while they are trying to work

94: making stupid videos together

95: keeping their relationship a secret from other people

96: nearly revealing their relationship in front of other people

97: coming out (if it’s gay)

98: playing with a pet (if they have one). (if they don’t, some other animal)

99: They are forced to be enemies even though they love each other. This could be in a war or sided scenario. Usually a forbidden love. They could also be together in secret. Take Romeo and Juliet for example.

100: corona edition - quarantining together

101: luxurious holiday

102: stuck somewhere together, whether that be locked in a room or lost somewhere, etc.

103: beach

104: watching the other sleep/sneak up on them sleeping

105: backstory

106: childhood friends

107: au

108: crossover

109: SIMPing over them

110: love triangle

111: third wheel

112: having a dream about the other person

113: unbuttoning the other person’s shirt/taking the other person’s clothes off

114: hotel

115: board games/video games

116: chucking paint at each other

117: cheating

118: being annoying and stopping the other person from walking by sitting on their feet and holding onto their legs

119: secret admirer/love letters

120: making hearts with their hands

121: taking selfies

122: singing/playing a song for them

123: Falling asleep on them on a bus, train, plane, etc.

124: Growing old together

125: Widowed

126: Arranged marriage

127: Forbidden love

128: Sitting over the other’s dead body

129: being walked in on doing you know what

130: family’s reaction to the relationship

131: Living together

132: Having a family

133: Senpai/notice me senpai!

134: crush

135: showing off for their crush

136: rejection

137: first date (awkward)

138: first date (normal)

139: painting on each other (for a date night)

140: flirting

141: cringey pickup line

142: Pinning them against a wall

143: sneaking in bed with them when they’re asleep

144: laughing really hard together

145: Under the other’s wings

146: underwater kissing

147: accidentally fall on each other

148: only one bed

149: kissing their neck

150: being awkward around their crush

151: Rich couple

152: Playing in the rain

153: Summer

154: Autumn

155: Winter

156: Spring

157: Walk in the park

158: walking them home

159: Other people/characters also shipping them

160: The cute neighbour

161: putting their hand under the other person’s shirt

162: telling them a story/bedtime story. (If they have a child, that makes it even better!)

163: needy

164: clingy

165: intimate

166: touchy/fondling

167: putting their leg on the other person’s leg when sleeping

168: accidentally falling off the edge of the bed/accidentally pushing the other person off the edge of the bed

167: blanket hogging

168: freezing when they see their crush

169: running away/fleeing when they see their crush

170: surprising/scaring them

171: snow

172: watching fireworks

173: comforting them during a storm

174: divorce

175: homosexual (gay, lesbian, etc.)

176: heterosexual (straight)

177: poly (3+ people)

178: one of them getting an award or something and the other cheering them on and embarrassing them

179: somehow ending up with someone who is way out of their league

180: travelling together

181: weekend of romance

182: act like they hate them but they actually like them, switch between emotions frequently (tsundere)

183: will kill or harm others for their senpai (yandere)

184: ignoring the other person

185: one not messaging the other back

186: pash

187: enemies to lovers

188: friends to lovers

189: watching the other undress

190: soulmates

191: phone call

192: prom/dance

193: highschool

194: riding on bikes (usually as kids)

195: proposal

196: teasing the other

197: watching the sunset/sunrise

198: morning jog/walk

199: waking up but they’re not there

200: waking up to the other one making breakfast

201: sneaking into their house in the middle of the night

202: partners in crime

203: ex lovers

204: crushing on friend’s sibling

205: letting them stay the night

206: accidentally in love

207: coffee shop au

208: when their parents aren’t home...

209: sitting next to them with their arm around the their waist

210: telling secrets

211: fireplace

212: sitting on the floor

213: study buddies

214: flying

215: sitting on the porch

216: see the other naked for the first time

217: double date

218: their crush is upper class but they are lower class or vice versa. eg. rich vs poor, popular vs unpopular, higher social status vs lower social status.

219: One is mature and the other is childish

220: 2 brain cells/both idiots

221: lipstick stains

222: helping the other up

223: Deep conversation

224: meet at a bar/club/pub

225: asking them out

226: being teased by their friend(s) about their crush

227: telling their friend(s) about their crush

228: mistletoe

229: virgin/losing virginity

230: screaming into their chest

231: hand brushing against the other’s

232: soulmates walking past each other in public not yet knowing the other person but still getting some sort of gut feeling.

233: asking if they’re ok

234: handsome stranger

235: a description of the character’s features

236: their scent lingering

237: arriving at their doorstep

238: sleeping on the couch

239: hot night

240: cold night

241: sweaty

242: missing the other person

243: seeing them depart/saying their goodbyes (usually if they’re leaving for a trip for a while)

244: seeing them again for the first time (usually after they arrive back after a trip after not seeing them for a while)

245: looking back after departing

246: not even knowing their name/don’t remember them properly (usually falling in love with a stranger)

247: I kissed a girl (gay)

248: I kissed a boy (gay)

249: the person they like isn’t gay

250: husband energy

251: mum and dad energy

252: wife energy

253: liking a bad boy

254: liking a more mature boy

255: diving off cliffs/waterfalls

256: Comforting the other one when they’re scared

257: hushing them to sleep

258: singing them a lullaby

259: adopting

260: surrogate

261: painting their nails, pamper treatment, etc.

262: posing for photos

263: eating spaghetti together (Lady and the Tramp style)

264: being protective when someone starts SIMPing over their lover

265: holding them tight

266: swears they saw their ex in public but it wasn’t them...

267: sleepover

268: flirtatious bartender

269: helping them

270: stumbling over their words

271: walking in on them showering

272: looking them up and down/checking them out

273: being competitive/friendly rivals dynamic

274: meeting them through social media first

275: tinder/online dating

276: daydreaming about the other person

277: one of them is sick/in hospital

278: doing something embarrassing in front of their crush

279: horseback riding

280: hammock

281: boat

282: taking them to and showing them a place that is special to them

283: dirty jokes

284: making them laugh

285: getting into a fight with each other

286: protecting the other in a fight/from getting into a fight

287: masquerade ball

288: love spell/something or someone casting love spells on people aka Cupid

289: he/she loves me, he/she loves me not...

290: whispering in their ear

291: sitting on top of the car in a field

292: if a character wears some sort of mask/something that covers their mouth/face make the other character pull down/lift it up to kiss them

293: give each other pet names (baby, babe, honey, etc) (be as creative as you want)

294: biting the other’s lip when kissing

295: buying the other flowers/a gift

296: road trip

297: friendzoning

298: Gender Bend

299: saying “I love you” for the first time

300: toxic relationship (physical abuse, mental abuse, cheating constantly, don't love them anymore) be as creative as you want.

@negan-morningstar @savedpeople @you-a-southpaw-doll @smcc212 @gabrielislovegabrielislife @galaxycastiel @winchester-reload @impala-dreamer

#prompt list #supernatural #twd

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thesunnyshow · 3 years

Text

Name: kelsie Writing Blog URL(s): @lovingyong

Age: 22

Nationality: american

Languages: english, some sign language and spanish

Star Sign: libra

MBTI: INFJ

Favorite color: pink

Favorite food: taco bell (lol)

Favorite movie: pride and prejudice, kill bill, gone with the wind, or the handmaiden

Favorite ice cream flavor: green tea

Favorite animal: otter

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering? tea or hot chocolate. never coffee because i’m allergic

Dream job (whether you have a job or not): human rights attorney or writer

Go-to karaoke song: never gonna give you up - rick astley

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose? teleportation

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose? mmm hard to say bc i enjoy my rights as a woman so i guess probably the 90s

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you? Only starting at the summer before high school

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken? horse sized chicken but i could not explain why. It’s just my gut instinct

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been? I was the floater/nobody for sureeeee

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures? yes aliens allll the way lets go

Fun fact about yourself that not everyone would know? I only type with two fingers on each hand but can still type 60 wpm

What fandom(s) do you write for? nct but i want to also start writing for haikyuu soon

When did you post your first piece? july of 2018

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why? I like a good combo. Life is never completely fluffy or totally angsty. It’s good to have a balance to make it all seem more realistic and immersive

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc? x reader right now but when i write for haikyuu, it’ll be ships

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr? I think it was just… there and available. Ao3 is fun but there’s not a lot of chances or opportunities for interaction so i decided to go back to the hellsite

What inspires you to write? Oh goodness, anything and everything. Oftentimes it’s music. I hear a song and i’m immediately like i need a story for this asap

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most? Mafia and crime. It’s such a guilty pleasure of mine

What do you hope your readers take away from your work? I just want it to be a temporary escape and provide at least some form of enjoyment

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively? Read more or watch anime just because both of those are enjoyable things for me but can also give me the inspiration to create again

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful? you may regret this is literally my baby. It’s not my favorite, but i think taeyong’s spin off story, a way out, is because it's everything i wanted for ymrt, i just didn’t have the same skills at the time. Another favorite of mine is hanakotoba because it’s literally my heart and soul in a story and i’ll always have that deep personal connection to it. My most successful is white knuckle tight which is truly still fascinating for me because it was an idea i got on a random tuesday during christmas break and i just ran with it. I think it’s an alright story but it’s far from my favorite. I lack the emotional attachment that i have to other pieces.

Who is your favorite person to write about? taeyong. Writing him is almost like second nature to me. His character is always the easiest for me to construct and i think people will find he’s the most consistent character throughout stories. There’s not as much variation.

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose? Yes and no. i think writing kpop fanfiction is much more similar to original prose because you don’t have a world to build around. You only have a person. In fact, you don’t even have that. You only have an idea of a person to construct into a character. I think the only difference is that you can get away with a lot more unreasonable plot lines.

What do you think makes a good story? Good characters and enough emotion to create an attachment to the plot. I want to care about what’s happening and the best way to do that is by leading me to some sort of connection to the characters

What is your writing process like? Very chaotic and sporadic. I’ll come up with ideas at 3 am, make a random note about it, and then do my best to bring it to life when i’m actually awake. I don’t plan. I just have snippets of scenes i would like to include. So much of it is just writing whatever comes to mind while im writing it

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story? I’m doing so with one right now, though 8-% of it is getting scrapped and changed. There’s nothing wrong with that though. Having good bones is what matters and i think this story has exactly that

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand? I love enemies to loves if it’s done right. Exes to lovers is another classic. Mafia is a given. Hanahaki and soulmates always does something to my heart. I can’t stand hybrid and a/b/o fics idk why i just have never been able to get into them. Yandere like tropes are also really hard to do right so i usually avoid those as well

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you? It means a lot. I’m sure any writer can tell you that but it’s truly the reason i still write fanfic and haven’t just given up and written only original prose.

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)? Timing. It’s always about which member is really getting to people at the moment and which trope is gaining traction. 85% of writing on tumblr is kind of just dumb luck

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged? Yes. i think it just comes from lack of understanding

Do you think art can be a medium for change? Without a doubt. Art pieces as well as writings have made significant impacts in my life in a variety of ways. It’s a medium of awareness and recognition

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself? Not really because i kind of just do whatever the fuck i want (sorry for my language lol) but i usually come up with totally self indulgent ideas and then just do it.

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times? No… not yet. I expected someone to with shattered memories but it seemed to do and say what i wanted to

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr? My roommates. My friends know i write they just don’t know what

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers? I’m doing my best and i wish i could put stories out more often

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there? Just go for it. You have to try if you want to see any sort of results. Plus these people don’t know you so what’s the risk

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr? nah

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey? Kai, jewel, and abbey for sure. They were some of my closest mutuals when my blog really started to take off

Pick a quote to end your interview with:

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go… - dr. seuss

#@lovingyong #feature author #thesunnyshow #nct #episode 49 #haikyuu

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dallanebbia · 4 years

Text

betsubara

title: betsubara fandom: bnha pariring: kacchako; bakugou katsuki x uraraka ochako word count: 3.9k (including text in posts) warnings: none synopsis: in which the u.a. test kitchen tries its hand at the whole youtube thing, and the internet collectively ships kacchako. bon appetit test kitchen au + socmed au notes: written for day 3 of kacchako week 2020, with the prompt ‘desserts & sweets.’ i know that BA has its share of problems, but i really wanted to write this after stumbling across ba test kitchen fanfics on ao3 and some social media aus on twitter… i have so much respect for people who make smau fics, i don’t know how you do it. ochako here is a bizarre mix of brad leone, solha el-waylly, liziqi and emmymadeinjapan, and bakguou…. is bakugou :’) ao3: [link]

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別腹 | betsubara (n.) – Japanese, second stomach for dessert

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Susan Anderson @susan.anderson – Jun 29, 2XXX My grandchildren said I would enjoy watching the UA test kitchen youtube channel, but I don’t know where to start. Can someone please give me some suggestions? Why do they change chefs in every video? 62 🗨️ 133 ⭮ 869k ♡

...

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson Hi Susan! I’m the kitchen manager for @ua_testkitchen, and I’d be happy to help! We have playlists for each of our web series on our YouTube channel, but I’ll do my best to explain each series below. 23 🗨️ 241 ⭮ 3.2k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Hot Takes – If you don’t mind some occasional foul language, this is a very popular series! Chef @bakugoukatsuki demonstrates techniques on how to make Japanese staples, from omurice to hand cut soba. It’s extremely educational! 123 🗨️ 213 ⭮ 3.5k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Bon Appetit – This series is all about French food, with Japanese twist! Chef @foreversparkling breaks down intimidating recipes like souffles, gougeres, and quiches for the amateur cook to try at home! 89 🗨️ 165 ⭮ 2.8k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Farm to Table – If you’re interested in where your food comes from, this is a great choice! Chef @u_ochako shows viewers what it takes to grow and cultivate ingredients. She also delves into the science behind making things like kombucha, natto, and beer! 155 🗨️ 188 ⭮ 3.9k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX From Scratch – This is our only series with two hosts! We ask our chefs @shouto and @yaomomo to tackle the challenge of recreating popular junk food and snack items entirely from scratch. These can be anything, from your favorite candy to foreign staples like Twinkies! 102 🗨️ 288 ⭮ 2.7k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX 10 Chefs – This series asks ten of our @ua_testkitchen chefs to undergo a series of culinary challenges of varying difficulties. These can range from cutting a durian to cooking a live lobster! 48 🗨️ 85 ⭮ 1.4k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX The Great U.A. Bake Off – These are special videos that showcase U.A.’s biannual dessert competition! We invite renowned chef and television star @AllMight to join as our host and judge. Our resident pastry chef @satousugarman has held the title for the past four years! 99 🗨️ 174 ⭮ 2.1k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX We also film various instructional videos, which are not part of any particular series. These can be recipes or in-depth guides to various kitchen tools and appliances. Hopefully these give you a good place to start, and feel free to contact me if you have any other questions! 21 🗨️ 98 ⭮ 1.1k ♡

...

↳ Susan Anderson @susan.anderson – Jul 01, 2XXX Thank you, Mr. Midoriya. I started watching Farm to Table, and I’m enjoying it a lot. I do have a question – I’m reading the comments, and there’s a cooking term I’m not familiar with. What is a “kacchako?” Is it a cooking appliance? 721 🗨️ 2.1k ⭮ 8.9k ♡

...

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jul 02, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson … Um. 202 🗨️ 4.3k ⭮ 10.4k ♡

↳ jfc they’re actually clueless @hitoshinsou – Jul 02, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson and @dekiru yeah @dekiru, what is a kacchako? 180 🗨️ 961 ⭮ 2.9k ♡

… 331 more replies

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“Hey guys!” Uraraka waved cheerfully at the camera. “My name is Uraraka Ochako, and welcome back to Farm to Table, a show where we explore where our food comes from!”

“For today’s episode, we’re going to be doing something a liiittle different.” On the counter was a pile of misshapen brown lumps, mottled with different black and brown spots. “On our cacao episode, a lot of you were a little… shall we say, disappointed with me, when I didn’t make chocolate out of a cacao pod.”

Uraraka’s smile turned icy, as a screenshot popped up on screen. She held up a little slip of paper from her hand and cleared her voice.

“ ‘Making chocolate isn’t easy,’ ” she read, widening her eyes for emphasis. “ ‘This girl has no idea what she’s talking about.’ ”

The dark, saccharine expression on her face never faltered as she ripped up the paper into tiny pieces, throwing bits over her shoulder.

“Now, I’m here to show you that actually, yes – making chocolate can be easy!” The hard smile was replaced by a warm grin. “My friends at Tokyo Cacao sent me some pods to work with, and lucky for us, they’re ripe and ready to go!”

She beamed, picking up a pod and showing it off to the camera. “I’ll show you guys how to turn these bad boys into chocolate - and after that, I’m gonna share one of my favorite chocolate recipes with you!”

Uraraka then grinned mischievously. “First things first – we gotta crack this little guy open.” Reaching under the countertop, she whipped out a gigantic chef’s knife. It was easily as long as Uraraka’s forearm, and the polished blade was engraved with two characters that clearly read, ‘Bakugou.’

A choking sound was heard off screen.

“Holy shit Uraraka, you took it?!” A man popped into frame, gaping at the knife in Uraraka’s hand. “Dude, Bakugou’s been looking for that all morning - he’s going to kill you for real this time!”

“Not if he doesn’t find out,” she said seriously, fixing the blonde man with a pointed look. “You’re not going to rat me out, are you, Kaminari?”

“And get killed in his Baku-rage? No thanks.” He shivered, staring at the knife as if it was going to attack him. “At least you’ve got a chance of surviving.”

Uraraka laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re acting like he’s going to eat you or something.”

“You don’t know about poor Mineta,” Kaminari looked grave as he closed his eyes in a moment of silence, before scurrying out of frame. He called out, “If anyone, especially Bakubro, asks – I was never here!”

“O… kay?... ” Uraraka blinked at the camera for a few moments and then shook her head in amusement. “Anyways, back to the topic – opening the pod! The rind is pretty thick and slippery, so be careful where you’re cutting! The best way is to set the edge of the knife in one of the grooves and give it a good whack, like this - !”

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Pro Chef Makes Omurice | Hot Takes | U.A. Test Kitchen 3,439,062 views ･ August 29, 2XXX

To quote our favorite foul-mouthed chef: “Even a F***ing idiot can make omurice.”

Join Bakugou Katsuki in the U.A. Test Kitchen as he makes a Japanese comfort food staple, omurice. This isn’t your average, amateur omurice omelette video - Bakugou breaks down the special tricks and techniques he uses to achieve the perfect taste, shape and texture. His recipe uses buttery chicken, fried…

[SHOW MORE]

10,237 comments

hvf26 – 3 hours ago Japanese gordon ramsey 👍 2.7K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 25 replies

TipTop – 2 hours ago new drinking game: take a shot every time you hear “fuck” EDIT: 13 shots in and 18 minutes left, i give up 👍 8.6K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 93 replies

shroomaster3110 – 9 hours ago bakugou: “even a fucking idiot can make omurice” also bakugou: “veal stock, red wine, honey, tomato paste, reduce for 3 days” me: instant ramen it is 👍 749 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 8 replies

obsssd1992 – 6 hours ago hOoly fuck the sound uraraka made when she tasted it 👍 9.4K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 155 replies

vulcanus – 3 hours ago 7:33 cracking two eggs at the same time with one hand he really be flexing on us huh 👍 233K 👎 REPLY

periperi – 10 hours ago 22:18 is it just me or does bakugou look like he’s blushing??? like, his ears are so so red 👍 5.1K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 84 replies

dinovino44 – 7 hours ago “just fucking flip it” I blinked and that shit literally went from goo to an omelet HOW 👍 144 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 3 replies

Angela B – 8 hours ago I would love to try this but i dont want to waste 17 dozen eggs trying to make it properly 👍 3.7K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 29 replies

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“Oh fuck, that’s good,” Bakugou groaned, mouth full as he chewed. The mango-coconut tart in front of him was dotted with swirls of candied orange peel as a garnish, but it did nothing to hide the fact that the entire thing was dusted with a liberal coating of violent red chili powder.

At his side, Uraraka beamed, sniffling a little from the pervasive scent of spice in the air. “I added some lime too, just to break up the richness – it’s not too sweet?”

“S’fucking perfect.” Bakugou scarfed down the last bite of the piece in his hand. He let out another long moan, the sound of it deep and guttural, and Uraraka’s eyes widened as she stared, her cheeks turning red. “Screw it, I’m eating this for lunch.”

“Eh?” Uraraka blinked, snapping out of her daze just as the tray was snatched from her workbench. “Wait, wait – Bakugou! Give it back, I haven’t even tasted it yet!”

“Pft, like you wouldn’t down a carton of milk after one bite,” he scoffed, holding the tart above his head and trying to fend off Uraraka with his free hand as she pulled at his arm. “Fucking get off, Uraraka, I – !”

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SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Aug 17, 2XXX alright since some of y’all are fucking BLIND here’s a list of every bakugou x uraraka moment on the u.a. test kitchen youtube channel (a thread) 184 🗨️ 5.3k ⭮ 12.6k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Aug 17, 2XXX [01] the great u.a. Baking show, cheesecake: during taste tests bakugou hated every single person’s cheesecake EXCEPT uraraka’s peach and plum one. He said it was acceptable BUT THEN HE GOES BACK FOR ANOTHER PIECE 2 🗨️ 229 ⭮ 10.4k ♡

…

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Oct 28, 2XXX [33] farm to table, jicama/watermelon: bakugou says there isn’t enough heat in the dipping sauce during taste tests, uraraka then pulls out the extra spicy version she made just for him and bakugou looks flabbergasted when he tries it and then HE TAKES THE SAUCE HOME 10 🗨️ 121 ⭮ 2.4k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Nov 01, 2XXX [34] from scratch, shrimp chips: at 14:53 you can see bakugou and uraraka in the background working on something together and when aoyama comes in waving around a whisk like a madman bakugou PUTS HIS ARM AROUND HER WAIST AND PULLS HER OUT OF THE WAY 15 🗨️ 146 ⭮ 2k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Nov 01, 2XXX [35] from scratch, shrimp chips: when uraraka’s taste testing the final versions, she tells bakugou to come and try them. Bakugou grabs the chip she’s eating out of her hand and takes a bite AND THEN STUFFS IT BACK IN HER MOUTH BEFORE WALKING AWAY 29 🗨️ 132 ⭮ 2.4k ♡

…

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 11, 2XXX [69] hot takes, udon: bakugou says he’s only doing this video because someone said he had to, and uraraka mouths at the camera “he can’t say no to me” and bakugou sees her doing it but just rolls his eyes HE DOESN’T DENY IT 34 🗨️ 204 ⭮ 1.8k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 11, 2XXX [70] hot takes, udon: bakugou’s testing the dough consistency and yells at uraraka to come over so he can compare it TO HER CHEEKS and the man no cap says “not soft enough, it needs more pounding” and the blush on her face AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 119 🗨️ 451 ⭮ 3.6k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 24, 2XXX [71] the great u.a. bake off, pavlovas: honestly just take this entire episode as proof you can FEEL the tension through the screen my god. the way they’re play-fighting/flirting throughout the episode jesus fucking christ the flavor is immaculate 85 🗨️ 154 ⭮ 2.1k ♡

…

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Mar 01, 2XXX [82] bon appetit, coq au vin: aoyama asks uraraka for help and bakugou literally spends the entire video glaring at aoyama from the background and ochako mouths “I’m almost done katsuki” at 15:43 SHE USES HIS FIRST NAME 26 🗨️ 98 ⭮ 1.9k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Mar 09, 2XXX [83] hot takes, takoyaki: uraraka asks bakugou to taste test a smoothie for her and he goes, “the one you made yesterday was better” but later he says something about hating Mondays WHICH MEANS HE AND URARAKA WERE TOGETHER OVER THE WEEKEND 37 🗨️ 159 ⭮ 2k ♡

… 13 more replies

↳ teatime @kabedondon – 6h Replying to @retrograade the detail in this thread is scary but even more concerning is the fact that you’ve somehow managed to convince me, at the very minimum, that they’re fucking 13 🗨️ 1.1k ⭮ 4k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – 4h Replying to @kabedondon welcome to the club, hope you enjoy your stay 21 🗨️ 59 ⭮ 573 ♡

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Todoroki stared down at the gooey, green-streaked mess of chocolate in front of him mournfully. At his side, Yaoyorozu looked equally despondent, poking at the dull sheen of dark chocolate covering the biscuit in her hand.

“Should we…?” Todoroki glanced over hesitantly, and Yaoyorozu bit her lip.

“I was really hoping we’d get it this time.” She sighed heavily, before turning around. The camera zoomed out, the frame widening to show a few people milling around in the background. “Uraraka! Do you have a moment?”

A chirpy voice replied, “Sure!” Todoroki visibly sighed in relief, quickly dumping his mixing bowl into the sink of dirty dishes as Uraraka came into the shot.

“Huh, that’s definitely not right…” The brunette poked Yaoyorozu’s chocolate mixture with a frown. “What temperature did you heat this to?”

“45 degrees?” Uraraka hummed, scooping up a bit of the mixture and dumping it into her hand. She rubbed at it, frowning. “What did you use as your seeded chocolate?”

Todoroki slid the half-empty bag of chocolate chips across the counter, and Uraraka dumped a pile of them out. Little disks spilled across the marble, and she tested one piece between her clean fingers. “Uh, you know that you’re supposed to use tempered chocolate to seed, right?”

Todoroki opened his mouth, paused, then closed it abruptly. Yaoyorozu buried her face in her hands and audibly groaned.

“Hey, the good news is that you can totally reuse this!” Uraraka tried to smile encouragingly. “Did the matcha chocolate come out weird too, or –?”

“Oi, what the fuck is this?” The camera panned to the side, where Bakugou was holding up Todoroki’s abandoned mixing bowl in a fist, features twisted into a grimace. “Did all those e-cigs fry your brain, Half-and-half? Who the fuck doesn’t sift matcha before –”

“Hey, lay off of him, Bakugou.” Uraraka stomped over and snatched the bowl away. “Tempering is hard! And you know white chocolate is tricky.”

“Tch, please.” He scoffed. “What kind of idiot can’t temper chocolate?”

Uraraka’s eyes flashed, and she planted her arms on her waist. “Have you ever tempered chocolate before?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that?” Bakugou growled. “Course I have, I didn’t live under a fucking rock like these two morons.”

Yaoyorozu bristled indignantly, but Uraraka held up her hand. Todoroki just looked tired, and muttered under his breath, “Here we go again…”

“Then you wouldn’t mind giving us a demonstration, would you?” Bakugou looked at her sweet, smiling face suspiciously. “Or are you too chicken to prove it?”

Red eyes flashed dangerously. “... the fuck did you just say?”

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The video cut to a shot of lumpy, melted white goo, before zooming out to show Bakugou’s scowl. “What the fuck is wrong with this shitty chocolate?” He kept stirring, even more vigorously this time, and looked down at the mixture as if he was trying to set it on fire with his glare.

Todoroki and Yaoyorozu were tucked a little ways away, snickering quietly as they watched from a safe distance away. Across from Bakugou, leaning casually against the counter, Uraraka smiled gleefully.

“Hur-dur, ‘what kind of idiot can’t temper chocolate?’ ” she mimicked, her voice lowered in an approximation of the blonde’s low growl. Uraraka laughed, and then ducked as a chocolate-covered spatula sailed over her head.

“FUCK OFF, ROUND FACE!”

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smolbean678 reblogged kryssalys ochaakou:

reasons you should stan uraraka ochako, u.a.’s farming goddess and resident bakugou whisperer:

- has probably saved about half of the “from scratch” episodes by virtue of being the only person in the entire u.a. test kitchen who can consistently temper chocolate

- speaking of chocolate, this woman pulled the hardest flex by making her own chocolate from a raw cacao pod, and then proceeded to make chocolate chicken mole with it just to prove to the haters that she could

- is the acting president of the musutafu ninniclub, a japanese club for lovers of garlic. she also openly admits to sleeping with a ninnikyun plushie, aka the club mascot which is apparently a giant garlic clove (seriously, you can’t make this shit up guys)

- vocal advocate of Feeding Japan, a hunger relief organization that works to combat food insecurity, and is frequently seen volunteering at food banks and soup kitchens (1) (2) (3) (4)

- a lot of the ingredients she features in the “farm to table” series come from her parent’s farm! (pics) she grew up working at her parents’ stall at her hometown farmer’s market and promotes buying locally to support regional farms and businesses.

- this masterpiece of a tweet: “I love food and I love to eat. If someone wants to shame me for my body then they can go fuck themselves.”

- creates recipes that not only taste good but are also healthy, quick, easy and beginner friendly – yes, I’m looking at you, mr. bakugou “just fucking flip it and reduce for 3 days” katsuki – see the archive of her recipes here (x)

- has a tiktok dedicated entirely to trolling todoroki’s reactions with weird flavors of soba, these are my favorites (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

- she’s a self-taught chef who started as a dishwasher and worked up to being the sous chef at ryuko tatsuma’s restaurant dragoon before coming to the u.a. test kitchen and was regularly praised by food critics (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

- has single-handedly saved u.a. millions of yen from that one time she stopped bakugou from ‘accidentally’ exploding an air fryer

- speaks fluent baku-rage, not to mention their chemistry is off the charts hoO BOY the slow burn is fucking real y’all

alright there’s so much more stuff but I fucking hate formatting links, so watch farm to table and follow uraraka on social media (twitter / instagram / tiktok) because this queen deserves our love. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

hoooooot-hoot:

[link] to the twitter thread for my fellow kacchako shippers, i gotchu

54,230 notes #ua test kitchen #kacchako #stan uraraka #bakugou better worship our queen or im gonna throw hands

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

“Ugh.” Uraraka glared down at the sad, deflated lumps sitting in the middle of her ramekins. “Where is Aoyama when you need him?”

“That looks pathetic,” a blunt voice said, and Uraraka sighed as Bakugou came into the camera frame, leaning over the counter to peer into one cup with a skeptical look. “What the hell are you making?”

“Well, it’s supposed to be a pistachio-strawberry souffle.” She huffed, rubbing at her neck in frustration. “I can’t figure out how to get the nuts to distribute evenly… and it’s just not rising? I don’t get it – I remade my pastry cream like, three times, I know it’s fine, and I buttered my molds but it just…”

“You try freezing the molds after you butter them?” A frown came over Uraraka’s face as she shook her head. Bakugou grabbed one of the little cups, prodding the contents with a finger, and made a face. “Keeps it from contaminating your mixture and fucking up the rise.”

“When I make them at home, they’re usually fine at room temp,” she said dejectedly. “I don’t know why I can’t get it right today.”

The camera zoomed in a little, focusing on Bakugou’s expression as he glanced towards Uraraka. He looked a little concerned, and after a beat of silence, he came around the counter to stand beside her.

“Oi, don’t get all mopey on me, Cheeks.” He nudged her shoulder lightly, settling a hand across the back of Uraraka’s neck. “You good?”

She sighed heavily, leaning a little into his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I just… I don’t know. My brain isn’t working right now.”

“Tch.” Bakugou looked over the mess of bowls spread across the counter, eyes settling on the deflated looking egg-whites on one side. “Look – I’ll help ya out, just this once. Don’t quit on me now, yeah?

She blinked, looking up at him with furrowed brows. “But I thought… don’t you have that thing, with –”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. This is more important,” he said, shrugging off his leather jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Uraraka just looked back at him in confusion.

“But…” She bit her lip hesitantly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou smirked back at her as he tied on his apron. “I got you, Cheeks.”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

[Video: Todoroki, frozen in place with blank eyes and noodles falling out of his mouth as someone shakes his unresponsive body]

u_ochako: i… may have made chocolate flavored soba. PLEASE DON’T CRY TODOROKI #imsorry ♡ 137.4K 🗨️ 3251

trololoki: holy shit he actually looks like he’s about to cry View replies (157) ⯆

augusttine: can we all agree that what makes this 10x funnier is bakugou’s hyena cackling in the background View replies (209) ⯆

u_24: this is soba-sphemous View replies (54) ⯆

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

Uraraka rubbed her eyes, blinking as she gaped.

“You…” She looked up at him, chin trembling. “Did you really…?”

“Tch.” Bakugou huffed, trying to hide a smile. “What, your eyes don’t work now, Cheeks?” he teased.

“I just - ” Uraraka pinched herself, yelping at the pain, before a huge, toothy smile broke out across her face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“You did get on your knees and beg, so…” He shrugged, snickering as Uraraka approached the counter reverently, her face glowing in sheer joy. “Ten kinds of mochi, as fuckin’ promised.”

She turned to him pleadingly. “Can I…?”

“I already took the photos.” He nodded at the spread, a rainbow of different colors delicately arranged with a pot of tea, ready to be eaten. “Go for it, babygirl.”

Uraraka already had a daifuku mochi halfway to her mouth, lips open as she got ready to take a bite, when an unfamiliar voice cut into the video.

“Wait a second.” Both of them paused to look at the camera in confusion. “Did he just call you babygirl?”

There was a beat of silence, before Uraraka’s face exploded into a bright red blush. Next to her, Bakugou quietly muttered, “Fuck.”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

[Photo: an image featuring white sheets and pillows, a woman’s bare upper back, and messy brown hair with a woman’s face half-buried in a pillow]

Liked by dekiru, redkiri, and 541,803 others bakugoukatsuki: delicious u_ochako: UM bakugoukatsuki: @u_ochako did i lie though shouto: thank god fucking finally View all 6,248 comments

3 HOURS AGO

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jun 04, 2XXX RT @marsali: I. FUCKING. CALLED. IT.

THIS IS WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF @marsali – 21m @retrograade THE SHIP HAS SAILED I REPEAT THE SHIP HAS SAILED #kacchako [media attached]

42 🗨️ 3.8k ⭮ 8.7k ♡

#kacchako #kacchakoweek2020 #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #bakuraka #by nebbia #bnha #fanfiction #ba test kitchen au #socmed au #kacchako smau

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

01 | Over the Moon

→ next chapter

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, death, graphic depictions of murder/torture, mourning, drinking

→ wordcount: 11.6k

The whiteness of the room is blinding. The lights above are almost excruciating. But most of all, the silence is deafening. As if there's nothing alive and breathing in the room.

But there is.

The only visible signs of life are six men dressed clad in shades ranging from deep blue to black. They are standing completely motionless, but their faces are contorted with all kinds of emotions. Their expressions speak in anger, frustration and exasperation.

Some of them are panting quietly for breath—sounds that can only be heard if you have a sharp hearing. Others have perspiration dripping down their brows—none of them make a move to wipe it off. All are stiff in stance, glaring at one another through their cold, unnerving eyes.

There's no doubt about it—tension is in the air.

One man shifts his weight from his left foot to right. He clears his throat, straightening out his crisp, black suit in the process. "That's enough."

The tension is sliced in half. Chaos chases out the silence.

"What do you mean it's enough? I stand by my original opinion, and I'm not allowing the rest of you to distort it in any way."

"But it is enough, Namjoon. Sit down, will you? All of you."

There's the loud rustling of the men's slacks as they obediently take their seats. One man stays standing; he radiates power and dominance in his aura, staring down at those seated below him.

"I still don't think it's right, Boss," Namjoon tries again. "He wouldn't have wanted this at all." Namjoon wipes the excess sweat off his brow, shaking his head in disdain. He's in the spotlight, daring to voice his thoughts. "Granted, he wouldn't have wanted to die either, but look how things turned out."

"You're wrong, Namjoon," another man scoffs. He crosses his legs and glares at Namjoon. "He did want it. He said it in his goddamn will! Stop arguing with Jin, because frankly, he's the boss, not you!"

"Calm down, Hoseok," Seokjin sighs, shifting his weight on his other foot. "You are to address your superiors by their titles..." he trails off, brows furrowing as he becomes immersed in his thoughts.

"Fine," Hoseok huffs. "Underboss, I frankly think it's right to follow the exact words of his will. Why would he bother to write a will if we don't even heed to it?"

"Hoseok," Namjoon groans in frustration, "we need to interpret the will accordingly. I just don't think taking things too literally will help us. Yoongi? Some help here."

The man who had been leaning back casually in his chair coughs in surprise. "You were doing just fine," he mutters. "I think the underboss is right," Yoongi sighs. "We need to be pragmatic about this—"

"You and your fucking pragmatics," Hoseok spits out. "Let's face it. You two are the only ones with different opinions. Majority rules."

Yoongi doesn't answer. He suddenly takes a disinterest in the conversation and sinks back into his seat, refusing to speak. Namjoon takes the action as a sign to start his defense. "Jungkook and Taehyung barely count," he scoffs. "Jungkook follows everything Taehyung does and Taehyung follows everything the boss says—"

"Hey!" Taehyung yells, suddenly standing up from his seat. "You trying to call me and JK fucking backboneless?"

"I still think our opinions matter..." Jungkook frowns. "Boss?" He looks toward Seokjin for help, but Jin doesn't answer, lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm just saying what we're trying to do is obviously wrong," Namjoon argues.

"And you call yourself a lawyer?" Taehyung laughs scornfully. "Don't you think it's too fucking late to say what's right or wrong?"

"Show some respect to your underboss," Yoongi scolds. "And it's funny you're trying to talk morals, Taehyung. Need I remind you of your own sadistic antics?"

"Fuck you!"

"Let's not be so vulgar," Yoongi retorts.

"You know what? In the end, it's up to the boss to make the executive decision," Namjoon says, quirking his brow at an obviously fuming Hoseok and Taehyung. "So I suggest we all shut up and listen."

All eyes are on Seokjin, now, waiting for him to say something, anything. The man sighs, finally sitting down at his seat. He scans the eyes of the other men in the room, his own eyes cold and calculating.

"I say majority's right, this time," Seokjin declares. "We're down one man, morale is low and we need to fill the gap. If she's smart enough... as smart as him, we'll be in good hands."

"And if she isn't? We're putting a lot at risk," Namjoon says.

"The only risk we're putting in is the detrimental effect it'll have on your mentality," Jin replies. "You don't want her here because she'll remind you of him. You can't bear to have anyone that reminds you of him walking around our halls. I understand and respect that, Joon—" he takes a small breath "—but we need her help... As much as she needs our help."

"And how do you know she needs our help?" Yoongi challenges.

"Her brother's dead, and she doesn't even know."

Unemployment is the best and worst thing that's ever happened to you. Sure, you have no idea how you're going to spark the start of your career or how you're going to explain to your parents why your economics degree isn't paying off student debt. But you also have all the time in the world. All the time in the world to binge-watch your favorite TV shows, that is.

If your parents were here, you'd probably hear an earful from them. The "why can't you be more like your older brother?" type of shit. But the thing is, jokes on them, your brother's literally been MIA for a good six years now.

In fact, you've been covering for his poor ass ever since he decided to drop out of his prestigious college. (Which your parents still have yet to find out about.)

But you suspect they might never find out. First off, your parents are more than 6,000 miles away from you and your brother, so the only earful you get from them is on the phone. Second, they're calling less and less these days. Ever since you and your brother turned eighteen, they've been more lenient, suspecting both of you were CEO's of prospering law firms or hospitals. Third, you're a nasty good liar, something your brother had taught you very well.

You kind of miss him. He's the only blood relative you have in this country, anyway. Your parents are 6,563 miles away in South Korea, while you're stuck in the oh-so-jolly United States of America with your brother.

Then again, he was supposed to protect you, to care for you, ever since he and you had moved to California with your parent's best wishes for both of you to strive for a spectacular education. But to give him a bit of credit, your brother had been by your side since you were in seventh grade to your senior year in high school. And to give him even more (possibly undeserving) credit, he'd helpfully guided your hormonal thirteen-year-old self into the delights of American society when he was only fourteen, himself.

But he ditched you nevertheless, and you're all alone.

Well, you weren't completely alone, you suppose. Sure, your host family was okay, but they had never understood the perils of your teenage angst like your brother had. And besides, it's nearly been six years since you've moved out of your host family's home. You're truly alone now. With no one but sweet Netflix to solace you and coax you to wake up to a new day.

You and your brother are probably the biggest disappointments to your parents, ever. Technically, this time, your brother's the bigger disappointment (for once) because at least you got your master's degree in economics. Your brother never even showed up to his first college class.

God knows where the fuck that man is.

Sure, he always sends you ungodly amounts of money every month—you suspect he's made himself a goddamn CEO of some obscure company—but you would very much rather have his presence than his money.

As much as you're bitter from his unexplained absence in your life, you still desperately want to be in contact again. And he did help you find your passion for economics in the first place.

It's funny because you always thought your brother would hit it big and become some world-wide famous brain surgeon; he'd always been the smarter one of the two of you. Well, your brother was smart, but he definitely wasn't smart enough to control his stupid infatuation with the mafia. And once your brother becomes passionate, there's no fucking way out.

The last you remember, he had been conducting intense research about the most notorious mafia bosses of the 1900s. One time, he'd made you memorize all the positions in the original Italian mafia—you'd given up after he tried to make you spell out 'consigliere.' Another time, between the summer of his high school junior year and senior year, he'd tried to convince your host family to fund his “educational, enlightening and beneficial' trip to Sicily, where 'the original mafia was founded.' ” His words, not yours.

He was insane, that brother of yours.

The worst part was that somehow he'd managed to find friends that would help fuel his idiotic passion for the mafia. Damn his excellent social skills (that you very much lack). Honestly, if you had his brain, you would've definitely not wasted it on researching deadly gangs.

But his friends became your friends and that was that. Except they had all left you in pursuit of something that definitely wasn't education.

At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if your brother disappeared only to continue his crazed mafia research with his best friends. Maybe he's lying undercover somewhere like the total goof that he is, trying to sniff out LA's most notorious criminal gangs. It's a thought that makes you scoff every time.

He should be twenty-four right now, just a year older than you. He should still be in school, getting the proper education you and your parents expected him to get. But noooo, he just had to go off to do his own thing. And now you're left to make excuses for him on the phone.

Last week was your mother's birthday, and when she asked you where the hell your brother was, you had to make up some intricate lie that he had to attend a doctor conference.

Whatever. At least that dumb bastard sends you a generous monthly allowance. You have better problems than to scrounge around looking for your brother—who, you may politely add, is a grown-ass man.

You're twenty-three, unemployed, single as fuck and lost in this vast nation of supposed opportunity. You need to find out what to do with yourself first before looking for your brother. In fact, you should probably stop watching Netflix this instant.

You should probably get dressed and get out there to greet the world with your unemployed status in hopes of landing a stable job your parents would approve of.

And so, as a woman of your word, you do just that.

You're in the middle of looking for your purse when someone knocks on the flimsy door to your apartment.

Weird. You don't usually get visitors.

Ditching the effort to find your purse, you stumble over to the door, trying to peek out of a small hole you've been telling yourself you had to fix for the past three months. But that attempt is futile. The hole that you had always convinced yourself was noticeably large was obviously not large enough for you to discern anything on the other side of that damn door.

You sigh. If it's some murderer out in the middle of the day ready to stab me to death, at least I won't have to pay off my damned student debt.

But you digress. When you open the door, to your slight disappointment, you don't see a murderer. In fact, you see two people—two vaguely familiar people.

"Jungkook? Taehyung?"

"Hey, Y/N," Taehyung smiles.

"Hi." Jungkook waves shyly from behind his friend.

You stare at them, shellshocked and frozen. You haven't seen Jungkook and Taehyung since your brother decided to jump out of your life. They are the subject of vague memories of laughter and good times shared that you'd pushed to the back of your mind as time passed.

You figured Jimin's decision to quit college had something to do with his friends. And now here they were.

"Is Jimin with you?" you ask, unamused and definitely not returning the friendly smiles.

"Ah, that would be a no... Well, as of now, no, at least." Taehyung shrugs. "We've actually been looking for you."

"Oh?" You raise your eyebrows. "Really? Because I've been looking for you. Well, not you, but um my brother actually. Park Jimin? I hope you've heard of him."

Jungkook chuckles softly. "Haven't changed much, huh?"

"I guess." You cock your head, brows furrowing as you think. "So... do you want to come in?"

"Sure!" Taehyung grins, marching right into your humble abode with Jungkook right by his heels. "Nice place, by the way," he comments, looking around at your rather neatly organized living room.

"Thanks," you mutter, closing the door. Taehyung and Jungkook have already made themselves at home on your couch. "So... did my brother set you up to do this? He usually sends letters when he mails me the monthly allowance, but that lazy ass hasn't even been doing that these days... Is he busy?"

Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. "Jumping right to the chase, huh? Not even a hello? Or a 'how are you doing, Taehyung?' C'mon, don't you miss us? We hung out a lot as kids, remember? The whole lot of us. Right, JK?"

"Right, Tae."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "All of you left me."

"We're sorry," Jungkook replies almost immediately. "We didn't mean to ditch you or anything..."

"Yeah? Well, that's exactly what you did," you say. "Just... Where the fuck is Jimin?"

"Damn since when did you fucking cuss?" Taehyung snorts and not to mention totally ignores your question. "Has it really been that long?"

"Answer my question, Kim Taehyung."

The man raises his eyebrows but speaks. "He's not here, Y/N," Taehyung sighs. "Um... but, it looks like you're doing fine without him, you know? Lookin' good." He grins goofily, saluting to you, but you're unamused yet again.

"Why are you guys even here? I honestly could've sworn you were dead just by how MIA you were."

"Ah... that's..." Jungkook looks down at his feet.

"It's about Jimin, actually," Taehyung blurts out, standing up.

"Oh, lord," you mumble. "What kind of trouble is he in, this time? Do I need to bail him out of jail?"

"Listen," Taehyung says. He stands up, his previous silly demeanor replaced with a serious one. "We... Well, you have to come with us."

You raise an eyebrow. "Just because I was friends with you six years prior doesn't mean I'll spontaneously follow you to wherever."

"But Jimin's waiting for you!" Taehyung exclaims. "Don't you want to see your brother?"

"Well, of course... but—"

"Listen, sweetheart," Taehyung sighs. "You—"

"No, YOU, listen," you interject, raising up your hand. "You can't just expect me to waltz back into my brother's life again. He... well, all of you, ditched me for a reason. I don't know what happened for all of you to change your minds but..." You sigh. "Besides, if Jimin's waiting for me, why didn't he come himself?"

"He's not in the best condition, you know? He's gone down with some cold, and we don't want him to get worse now, do we?" Taehyung says. "We know it's been six years, Y/N. Don't you think that's all the more reason to come visit us? We've missed you, after all."

"Just one, small, quick trip to our house," Jungkook says, fidgeting with his hands. "You'll meet everyone else there! It'll be like a reunion."

You blow air out through your nose. "Like the old days," you mumble.

"Like the old days!" Taehyung exclaims.

"Jimin's not in the best condition, huh? He was always so susceptible to the weakest of viruses," you shake your head. "And you guys have been living together without me? Some kind of family."

"We didn't want to bother your studies," Jungkook says. "Jimin, Taehyung and I all dropped out of college, and Jimin didn't want to become a bad influence on you."

"Right..." you say, eyebrows crinkling in thought.

"But you've graduated, right?" Taehyung asks.

"Right."

"So come and visit us!"

You tilt your head sideways, staring into Jungkook and Taehyung's eyes until Jungkook looks away. You and Taehyung have the longest staring contest before you blink first. "I'm not going to contract whatever Jimin has, right?"

Taehyung grins. "I hope not."

"Fine." You sigh, rubbing your forehead. It can't hurt to visit your long lost brother. Maybe you can give him an earful and convince him to contact your parents. Maybe you can convince him to stop pushing you away? "I'll go."

Jungkook and Taehyung look as genuine as they did back when you had been close friends with them. And besides, if they wanted to murder you for whatever reason, they would've already done it. So you shrug and walk towards the front door. The purse you'd been looking for catches your eye; it had been wedged between some dirty old shoes. Picking it up, you turn to Jungkook and Taehyung. "We're not going to walk, are we?"

"Of course not," Taehyung snorts, catching up to you and opening the door for you as you walk out. "See that car over there? The nice, red sports car?"

"Yeah, is yours the minivan behind it?" you genuinely ask.

Jungkook giggles. "Actually, the red sports car is ours."

"What?" you deadpan. Dropped out of college, my ass.

"Well..." Taehyung snorts, helping you down your own steps. You protest by swatting his hand away, but he insists and persists. "Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok and Yoongi make the big bucks."

"Really?"

Jungkook opens the shotgun car door for you. "Yeah! Here, you can take the shotgun seat while Taehyung drives it responsibly back. No speeding, there's a lady present."

You snort, sliding into the nice leather seat. "Thanks."

"No problem," Taehyung grins, making himself comfortable in his own driver's seat as Jungkook takes the back for himself. "It'll be a forty-minute drive, so we better get all comfortable here."

"Um, yeah. I can think of several questions on the spot," you say, strapping yourself in just in time before Taehyung speeds off.

"Ask away!" Taehyung chirps.

"First off, what on earth do you guys do to afford this kind of car? Shouldn't some of you be drowning in student debt?"

"Namjoon's a lawyer," Jungkook pipes in. "Hoseok's a surgeon, Yoongi's an anesthesiologist and Jin's a head chef at some famous place he owns."

"Talk about successful..." you trail off. "What about everyone else?"

"Eh, school's disgusting," Taehyung chuckles. "I'm a waiter at Seokjin's restaurant and JK here's a cop."

"But that's better than being unemployed, though," you sigh. "What's Jimin been up to?"

"He's a bartender," Taehyung says. "Got pretty damn good at it too."

"Bartending, huh? Never really thought he'd be into that. Last time I saw him, he was obsessed with the mafia. Guess it's bartending now, huh?"

Jungkook laughs. "Yeah, I guess."

The conversation flows nicely after that. You ask question after question and Jungkook and Taehyung give you answer after answer. And by the end of the forty-minute drive, it's as if they never left you. You had been the closest to them in your childhood, anyway. You almost forgot how good it feels to have quality talks with your childhood friends. In fact, you kinda forgot what it's like to have a friend, so this was a nice change.

"Hey, we're here," Taehyung smiles. "Home sweet home."

"We're in front of a wall," you deadpan as Jungkook snickers in the backseat.

"It's a gate, silly," Taehyung snorts. "Just gotta punch in a code..." His fingers move lightning fast across a keypad, and suddenly the wall is separating, creating a small space for the fancy car to drive right through.

Your mouth drops open when you see the house, er, mansion, that's before you. "That's your house?"

"Home sweet home," Taehyung chuckles. He parks the car in front of the elaborate steps that lead to a large, white door. "Hold on," he tells you as he hurriedly gets out only to open the car door for you on the other side.

"Thanks." You get out of the car, unable to take your eyes off of the beautiful mansion. "I've been missing out..."

"You have," Jungkook grins teasingly.

"C'mon, everyone's waiting inside!" Taehyung calls from the top step. God knows when he'd sprinted up those stairs.

A sudden wave of relief crashes over you. It's been six years. Six fucking years. Now you can finally see your brother. You don't like to admit it. You rarely end up admitting it. In fact, you don't think you've ever admitted it.

But you look up to your older brother with all your heart. And you're more than elated to see him again for the first time in half a dozen years.

The moment Taehyung opens the grand, wide doors to the even more grandiose mansion, you sprint in without a moment of hesitation.

You're greeted by white marble floors, a crystal chandelier and an occupied glass dining table. Four familiar faces stare at your excited self. They've grown. The boys you practically grew up with, that is. Their faces becoming sharper, highlighting their features and their once wide, childish eyes, squinted and emotionless... Something about the way they sit elegantly on the dining chairs sets you off. And you can't really pinpoint what.

There's Seokjin with a new hairstyle that makes him look like a rich billionaire (and judging by the mansion you might even be right on your judgment). Then there's Namjoon who's lost all of his baby fat, his eyebrows creased slightly and his legs crossed casually. Hoseok's dressed to the nines, gold rings encompassing his fingers. Even Yoongi too... The kid who had used to be shy and awkward looks like he could murder a man with his gaze alone.

Your smile drops as you realize the person you wanted to see the most is missing from the mix.

"Where's Jimin? Is he in bed?"

Hoseok gives you a strange look before turning to Taehyung. "What did you tell her?"

That one little question makes your heart drop. You should've known Taehyung spits out lies easier than he blinks. You should've called him out on his bullshit the moment you had doubts.

Jungkook gives you a nervous look before he pushes out one of the dining chairs for you. You frown, looking between Jungkook and the chair incredulously.

"Please, Y/N, it's been a while. Sit down, make yourself comfortable," Seokjin soothes. "Everything will make sense soon." He gestures for you to take the empty chair, which was conveniently placed between his seat and Namjoon's.

You raise your eyebrows. "Jin? What...? What's going on? Joon?" you question, turning your eyes to the man who had known your brother the best. Namjoon averts his eyes, leaving you stranded in your own confusion.

"You didn't tell her anything?" Yoongi sighs. "The truth, I mean?"

"Why would we?" Taehyung defends sharply. But when Hoseok glares daggers into his head, Taehyung looks down at his feet.

It chills your blood to see your old-time friends like this. Cold, distant... serious. When you were younger, there wasn't a hint of tension at all between the eight of you. Now tension is all you see.

"Jungkook, fetch the document, please," Jin sighs, running a hand through his otherwise well-combed hair. "How have you been, Y/N? Getting by? Jimin always made sure to send you some money..." he trails off, giving you a small smile.

You watch as Jungkook scampers off, like a dog with his tail between his legs. Something just wasn't right.

"Y/N?" Jin asks, softly.

"Taehyung said Jimin's sick," you stupidly say. "I hope you guys haven't been condoning him to get in trouble."

"Not even a 'hello,'" Jin chuckles.

"Where is he?" you demand. You're getting a bad gut feeling and your eyes fleetingly glance at the doors behind you.

Jin notices your hesitation, smiling at you warmly. "Hey... hey, I'm still the same Seokjin you knew... You're safe here, Y/N."

"What do you mean, safe?" you accuse. "Are you implying that I wasn't safe before?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions," Hoseok snorts.

"Let the girl ask. She's confused, can't you see?" Namjoon bites back. "Things will make sense in a bit, all right?"

"Why doesn't it make sense now?"

Jin smiles patiently. "You see... it's a bit... complicated, Y/N. But we promise you, you'll be safe."

"Safe from what? Is Jimin that sick? Is he in the hospital? Shouldn't we go there right n—"

A document falls on the table, right in front of your seat, shutting you up. You freeze when you catch sight of the text.

"What is this?" you ask in a tiny voice as your body suddenly becomes cold. You laugh nervously and with shaky hands, you bring the document closer to you to inspect it. To see if your eyes weren't fooling you. "You're pulling my leg. This isn't what I think it is."

"Oh but it is," Hoseok sighs.

"Shut up," Namjoon commands. "Y/N... I'm sorry."

"W-What do you mean?" you breathe. "You expect me to believe this? This is bullshit. What do you mean you're sorry?"

Deny it. That's it. Be in denial. There can't be one single reason that that's true.

But the letters don't lie. You can't look away from the writing in a large, clear font, scrawled across the very top of the document. Last Will & Testament of Park Jimin.

Someone puts a warm hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. "Please, read the will first," Jin says. "We'll explain everything. I'm sorry, Y/N. We all are..."

You clear your obviously dry throat. "No," you say as clearly as you can though you notice the hesitation and inconsistency in your voice. "You can't expect me to believe this. If you're going to play games with me, I'll get going. I didn't come here for a prank. I actually came here to see my brother."

You're about to push your chair away to stand up, but someone places a hand on the back of it, obstructing you from leaving. You look up to glare at this rude someone only to see Jungkook. He gives you an apologetic glance before moving to block your view to the entrance entirely.

"Let me go," you say through gritted teeth.

Seokjin shakes his head before looking you dead in the eyes. "Y/N... We're sorry."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Sorry that you don't know where my brother is too? You didn't have to cover it with his fake death."

"Are you stupid? You must be an idiot!" Hoseok sighs in exasperation. He taps his fingers impatiently on the table. "I'm done playing with your denial game. Face it. Your brother's dead, Y/N. Read his goddamn will before I lose my patience and read it out for you."

You stare blankly at Hoseok. "Dead?"

"Hoseok," Seokjin warns. "Y/N... I know you may have your doubts, but you have to trust us. That document... Jimin would've wanted you to read it."

"Stop," you command. The room spins and frankly, you feel a bit sick. "Stop acting like he's already dead. There's just... there's no way. He's twenty-four! He can't be dead now." You run your hands through your hair, feeling distressed and out of your mind. "He never even said goodbye to me..." you mutter. "He would've said goodbye." You shake your head. Tears that you didn't even know were there start to drip down your face. "I don't believe any of this."

"We can show you the body if you'd like," Hoseok shrugs. "But we don't want to do that now, do we?"

"You're serious."

"We wish we weren't, Y/N... We're sorry," Jin says. And he does look really apologetic. "Please... just read the will, and I promise I'll explain the rest to the best of my ability."

You're completely shell-shocked to silence.

There's no way he's dead. If he had been terminal or something, he would've said... He should've said something in his letters. It's not possible. I haven't seen him in person for six years. It can't end like that. And to hear this from his best friends?

Taehyung puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, tugging the will closer to you. He slowly picks it up, helping you grip onto the single piece of paper. At that moment, you come so close to ripping it apart to shreds. That damn will was the only solid proof you had of your brother's death. No will? No death.

But you know things don't work as linearly as that.

"You might have doubts, Y/N. And I understand," Seokjin soothes. "I know how hard it is to be on the receiving end of news like this. And I get that you haven't seen Jimin in years. You might even feel like you can't feel a difference when he was alive and when he's gone... I know that might scare you at the moment. And I know that's pushing you into denial, Y/N. But we brought you here for a reason... So, please. Give us another chance and read the will. Your brother would've wanted that. Most of what's on there is for you, anyway."

You feel numb. And you hate it. You hate that Seokjin's right. Jimin could've died a year ago, and you wouldn't have known; you wouldn't have felt a difference. Apparently, Jimin's dead now, and you still can't seem to bring yourself to fall to the floor and grieve like you mean it. You just feel twisted inside. Like you drank a glass of spoiled milk. But you can't seem to grasp the concept of your brother's apparent death. How can you when he was basically dead to you for six years? What difference did it make? He never contacted you anyway. If he really was dead, you wouldn't feel a difference at all.

God. You hate yourself for thinking about these things.

At this point, the sad, confused, frustrated and angry tears blind your vision, but you're able to make out the image of someone reaching across the table to hand you a tissue. You accept it gladly, wiping the tears with the best of your ability. Looking up, you see Yoongi, his stare completely blank and his hands holding out the tissue box for you. "Thank you..." you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

Then you finally let your eyes gravitate to the document. You've been gripping it so hard with your sweaty, shaky hands that the once clean, straight paper is slightly crumpled and damp. But that's the least of your problems.

Besides the printed title, the rest of the will is even in his handwriting. The scrawl is neat and in slight cursive—you can recognize Jimin's writing anywhere.

Your wet eyes take in every word your brother etched onto the paper with black ink. It's strange to read something so solemn, so straightforward from your lively, passionate brother. The will isn't long, but you take the time to reread every sentence, mulling over every word.

It isn't much, actually. Just states who gets what... And it seems like you've inherited everything he owned. Which, contrary to the mansion he lived in, wasn't much.

Unreal. This whole situation feels like a nightmare. And maybe you are asleep, and your mind is playing your greatest worries against you? You're praying to wake up any second.

But you never wake up, and the nightmare drowns you deeper as you come across the next line in the will:

If, by somewhat likely chances, I was murdered, I trust that Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook will take care of Park Y/N in their home; if my death was through natural causes, the following men should quietly send Y/N her inheritance.

You reread the sentence again. Then again. And again. You pull the paper closer to your eyes, hands shaking as you do so.

Maybe I misread it. Maybe I...

But you hadn't misread it. The line stays the same as your eyes painfully cross it every time, a part of you breaking off and withering away by each glance.

You feel dull. Shocked, yes, but already numb. Your thoughts are a jumbled up mess. There are so many questions, but you can't make out coherent words. Such a shame... You usually always know what to say.

If... If my brother had died through 'natural causes,' which I'm guessing pertains to illnesses... then I wouldn't be here. I would've gotten my inheritance with no strings attached. The fact that I'm here... Murder? My brother thought it was a somewhat likely chance that he would be murdered??

It's so crazy that there's no way anyone would be making it up. You can feel the shadow of doubt limping away. And what's left makes you feel more vulnerable than ever. Being able to read that will too... It was like an eye-opener. A call to you that Jimin was really dead. Whether you believe it or not.

"You need explanations, huh?" Seokjin sighs, nodding. He puts a warm, comforting hand on top of yours, but you're so cold, so far gone, you can barely even feel it. "Hey, hey..." he says softly. "Y/N?"

You're nodding through tears. "I don't know what to believe," you finally admit in defeat. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm just confused."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I understand. It's a lot to take in. And..." he hesitates. "It's going to be a lot more to take in as well..." He looks at you cautiously to see how you're coping. And you seem to be doing better than he had expected because he continues on. "I need you to listen to me very closely and not let doubt or denial of any sort to block me out, alright?"

Seokjin rubs soft circles into the back of your hand as you nod very slowly. Yoongi hands you another tissue. (Almost as if he was preparing you for a huge breakdown.)

"Listen, I'm going to be very frank," Jin says.

He's treading water, you notice.

"You've heard of the gangs around LA, right?"

You frown. "What?" That was the last thing you expected to come out of Seokjin's mouth. Though a bit bewildered, you nod. "Of course I have. The brutal murders, the shootings, the stupid territory fist fights..." You trail off when the realization hits you. "J-Jimin... He... He didn't mess with them, did he?"

Your heart sinks in your chest when Jin doesn't answer right away.

"He was always so obsessed with the mafia. He didn't just follow them and get in trouble, did he? He's not that stupid, right? Please, Jin, please say something. Tell me that isn't true." You sound pathetic even to yourself, but you can't help it.

Now it seems believable. It's entirely conceivable that your brother had been murdered by some malicious gang members for sticking his nose in their business. And you don't know what to make of this new information.

"Well," Jin sighs. He softly grabs your hand, and his warmth makes you feel just a little bit calmer. "It's partly true..."

"God," you groan, pulling your hands away from his and burying your face into them.

"We're in a gang, actually."

The spoken sentence shatters you. "Come again?"

"We're the mafia, Y/N. Your brother... all of us."

It sounds so preposterous, you almost scoff. But you don't. Jin had told you to trust him, and insanely enough, you were instinctively doing just that. Besides, the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. God, it explains so much. And the color drains from your face as everything clicks. That would explain the ungodly amounts of money Jimin had sent every month. That would explain the mansion. The crazy good jobs half of them are holding despite being so young. It would explain why your seven best friends had left you—probably on Jimin's account because he definitely wouldn't have wanted you to be affected. It even explains why these six men in front of you aren't anything like the six boys you had spent your childhood with. Why they look so cold, ruthless... intimidating.

And you thought you were dragged here to see your brother. Ironic.

"How seriously are you involved?" you ask carefully.

"Seriously enough," Namjoon answers. "Seriously enough for it to kill your brother, that is."

You frown at that. "I feel obligated to believe all of this," you sigh. "I don't want to believe any of it too—"

"Do you really think we'd be lying?" Hoseok sighs.

"What else would you think?" you bite back. "I think I have every right to be incredulous at the moment."

"Of course you have every right to be 'incredulous,'" Hoseok says. "But you'd better save it for later. See, honey, we're the mafia. One of the many affluent gangs in this city, you understand? Two and a half days ago, your brother was murdered by an enemy gang member or two, and we have yet to figure out which gang and who in the gang..." He sighs deeply, raising an eyebrow at you. "We've recovered the body, but I don't think you'll recognize it anyway... That doesn't matter. What does is that your brother wants you to join us now that he's dead. Living in this house would mean your blood is with us."

You feel tipsy again. Dizzy. Nauseous. Numb.

"You ruined everything," Namjoon accuses, glaring at Hoseok.

You steady yourself by gripping the edge of your chair. "I think I need to leave," you finally say after a long pause.

Just walk away. Pretend as if nothing happened. Maybe in due time, you'll forget everything that had just unfolded in this room.

"Ohh, you wouldn't want to do that, sweetheart," Taehyung murmurs.

You raise a challenging eyebrow at him. "I can do what I want. Need I remind you that all of you kept me in the dark for years. And the moment you need me, you decide to call me over for whatever reason despite the fact that I don't want to be involved at all. And if all of this is true, that also means you let Jimin get murdered. I'm not going to join your gang—if it even exists. I'm out."

You force your chair back, nearly stepping on Jungkook's toes as you stumble away from the crystal table. Muttering a quick apology to the sad-looking man, you quickly turn on your heels before making a dash to the exit.

Just as you're about to heave the large doors open, a loud voice commands you to stop. And you do, just for a little while, meeting Hoseok's eyes. "I'm going to walk away like this never happened. I'd appreciate it if I'm never contacted again."

Hoseok scoffs. "Not a good choice. The moment you leave those doors and walk out of our territory, you're in danger. Do you really want to die as painfully as he did?"

"Hoseok..." Seokjin warns.

But Hoseok pays no mind, rolling his eyes. "It looks like they jumped him while he was unsuspecting."

You freeze.

"He had no weapons on him. We checked. Completely defenseless. They duct-taped his arms and legs together like a helpless animal so he couldn't move. Then, they beat him, crumpled up his body until bruises blossomed and bones broke. Pulled out a few fingernails and teeth. But slowly. One at a time. Managed to damage a few organs as well... Internal bleeding was pretty bad," Hoseok pauses, staring at you with a cold, hard look in his eyes. "Then they forced rubbing alcohol down his throat... and duct-taped his mouth shut."

Your legs shake so hard, they give out. Your body hits the cold, marble floor, but you don't feel the impact in your bones.

"And do you know how he died?" Hoseok says. "You would think from blood loss... or a concussion." He stares at you as if he were expecting you to nod your head and answer to a degree. When he realizes you're shocked frozen, he sighs. "Your brother asphyxiated in his own vomit. Had to examine it myself, actually. And Yoongi would tell you the exact same thing."

Now it seems too real.

The last image you have of your brother was when he was eighteen. And that's the image of Jimin you played in your head when Hoseok had painted the vivid pictures of your brother's murder. The innocent, passionate, caring person you'd known. Gone. Just like that. And in such a cruel, inhumane way.

It hurts in a way you've never hurt before.

"Y/N, you see?" Taehyung sighs. He walks over to you, holding out his hand to help you up. When you make no move to take it, he forces you up himself, carrying your frozen, shell-shocked body back to the dining table. He carefully places you back on the chair like you're a fragile doll and speaks, "Whoever killed him might be after you. Jimin's made quite a lot of enemies who would do anything to kill him and his family. And you're the only family he has in America."

"Your brother wants... wanted you to be safe. We want to respect that, Y/N..." Jin soothes. "For Jimin, don't you think?"

"For Jimin?" you whisper, shaking with fear, grief, anger. "For Jimin?!" The tears are drowning your face again. "You're going to use that against me? None of us knew what Jimin wanted! You can't just assume what anyone wants! He's dead! He's... dead. Only he would know what he wanted, but he's gone..." You sob, your fists shaking with overwhelming emotion. "I just miss him," you whisper. "Ah, thanks," you mutter quietly when Yoongi hands you the third tissue of the day.

"We all miss him," Jin says. "We also understand your grief, Y/N. We're not your enemies, alright? We're on your side, and we're here to help you. I know things seem dubious at the moment. I apologize but I'd like to stay true to Jimin's last wishes. The will speaks what he wants, and we're merely acting on that. But we won't force you to join our little gang...

"We want to give you time to make your final decisions while also keeping you safe in the meantime. You're welcome to stay while you decide. We're not horrible men, Y/N. We wouldn't force a resolution out of you if you're not in the right mental state."

"A-And if I walk out right now?" you challenge.

"That'll be beyond what we can handle. We can't promise your safety outside of our territory, Y/N... But yes, you may walk out right this second. No judgment, no troubles... from us, that is."

"I... I need time, Jin. I can't do this right now." Even to yourself, you sound defeated.

"Hey... It's alright. Here, I'll guide you to the room you'll stay in..."

God, they had it all planned out, didn't they?

You look at the magnificent doors behind you. And for just a split second, you contemplate leaving. But you can't. Not when these people are the only people left. With your brother gone, your parents, oh god, your parents, thousands of miles away... The only people you have left are your childhood friends.

Childhood friends that are apparently associated with the mafia. And you were incredulous in the beginning, but the more you watch how the six of them acted, how they carried themselves... You would be crazy not to believe they were in the mafia.

And as Jin places a comforting hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the room you'll be staying in for who knows how long, you can't help but wonder if Jimin, the sweet, caring and enthusiastic person you knew had changed like his friends.

The Jimin you knew wouldn't hurt a fly.

Now, you're not so sure.

The hallways of the mansion are elaborately decorated with aureate designs and classic paintings. The expensiveness of your surroundings makes you feel even more at unease. Are you making the right choice? Can you trust these six men? Is it too late to back away? Would your brother have wanted this?

A stranger to your panicked thoughts, Jin steadily guides you further into the mansion. Though the twists and turns of the hallways are confusing to you, he seems to know them quite well. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of a white door.

"Your room's on the other side, Y/N," Jin says, giving you a small smile. "There's no pressure at all deciding where you want to go. But in the meantime, I hope you can be comfortable here. If you need anything, ask Jungkook or Taehyung, alright?"

You nod, dumbly. "I can stay here as long as I want?"

"Until you make your decision," Jin says. "So, in a way, yes. You can stay here as long as it takes to make your decision."

You nod again, unable to come up with an answer of any sort. Jin notices your slight hesitation and puts a comforting arm on your shoulder.

"I know it's been a lot to take in, Y/N... And I'm personally sorry we didn't reach out to you beforehand... But it'll be like the old times, I promise."

"In the old times, we were a family," you mutter.

"We still are."

You make an unsatisfied grunt, shaking your head. "I don't think I was ever part of that family."

Gingerly, Jin turns you around to face him. Though you admit you're being a bit difficult at the moment (and rightfully so), he doesn't look frustrated at all. He crouches down, putting his hands on your shoulders, shaking his head and giving you a kind smile.

"You were always a part of the family, Y/N," Jin soothes. "But think of your alienation from us as an act of safety precaution. Believe me, the rest of us did want to tell you about our... involvement, but Jimin didn't want to put you in any danger. Especially when you were busy trying to follow the path to your career. And eventually, we all agreed with that reasoning. It's dangerous work as you may understand. You have to be completely set on involvement if you want to be a part of it. I know you're probably thinking why we would ask you to join if it's so hazardous... But at this point, it'd be more hazardous to let you go, and Jimin wouldn't have wanted that..." He trails off, checking your face as if to check your emotions. But you've managed to keep a stoic look, though internally, your emotions are a mess.

"I want to apologize for dragging you into this mess, Y/N," Jin sighs. "But back when we were teenagers... Lost and confused in a new country... Feeling and looking like aliens, we were together. We were a family. And now's the chance for us to reunite, don't you think? Jimin would be happy..."

You flinch at the mention of your brother's name. "I... I just..." You're at a loss of words, eyes turning wet with emotion. "Give me time, please," you manage to mutter. "I need time."

"Yeah," Jin says, softly. "Of course."

He lets go of your shoulders, giving you space as he steps back. "Jungkook will come later to escort you to dinner, but other than that, we'll try not to bother you..."

"I don't think I'll be hungry," you say. How could you? It'd be wrong to have an appetite at a moment like this. Your skin still crawls at the vivid descriptions of your brother's demise by Hoseok. With a final sympathetic look from Jin, you enter the room, closing the door behind you.

You take a few, uncertain steps in. The room has sort of a musty smell to it, though it looks well-cleaned and organized. Without a second thought, you push the light gray drapes aside to reveal a large window. You open it to breathe in the fresh air. It calms your insides much more than you expected it would.

With a newly rejuvenated mind, you take a few steps backward until you're situated in the middle of the rather commodious room, taking in your surroundings. But upon closer examination, your heart plummets.

This room...

You slowly slide to your knees, looking helplessly at the decorations on the walls, the pictures in the frames, the drawings, the polaroid photos...

A familiar face looks back at you, grinning happily. Inside that pictured photograph is a younger version of yourself. It's you and Jimin arm in arm. You remember that moment exactly. It had been on your fourteenth birthday. Jimin had gifted you a polaroid camera, which you had forced Seokjin to take a photo with.

Next to the wall of polaroid photos capturing sweet moments you shared with your brother and his six friends is a familiar drawing. It's the piece of artwork you drew when you were very young. Before you and Jimin had moved to America. It's a colorful marker drawing of the Park family. You had falsely drawn your older brother shorter than you because he had been annoying you that day. And at the time, Jimin had gotten pissed with your petty antics... But as years passed, you remember he cherished that piece of artwork. And now it had ended up in this place...

A broken sob escapes your trembling lips when you realize this is his room.

How cruel that they have placed you here. In a room that would bring back memories of him.

Or maybe they thought this would help. Maybe they thought you could connect with your dead brother again.

All you can feel is cold inside. The Park Jimin you had used to love and look up to might not be the same man who had lived in this room. He'd changed. And so had his friends.

But you still find yourself staring at the decorated walls—too afraid to go and touch the photographs and paintings that hold so much memory—yet not afraid enough to ignore them completely.

Recalling your childhood wasn't too bad. It'd been pretty great, actually. Well, aside from the fact that you didn't exactly have parents to guide you in your teenage years. It's scary how much of a presence Jimin and his friends have in your past. You'd celebrated every birthday with them. Went to every high school party with them. Had Sunday night movie marathons with them. You'd known them all almost like the back of your hand (maybe even better because you don't like to look at your hands).

Indulging in the past is therapeutic. Until you arrive at the present, that is. And the future becomes a mystery.

What the hell will you do without your brother? And if what Seokjin was saying was true... and you're actually at the risk of being brutally murdered, then wouldn't it be better to stay behind the safety of the walls that your 'friends' offered to provide you?

Your mind is jumbled up with all kinds of thoughts. When everything happens too fast, you have a hard time getting back on your feet. You need time. Time to think. Time to mull over the pros and cons. To dissect your thoughts completely before acting recklessly on them.

You're not too sure of what to think. But you are sure of a couple of things. Your brother really was dead. There was no lie behind that. You'd seen the will... his last wishes... his handwriting... heard of the graphic way he was killed... And some deep feeling inside you knows. Two and a half days ago, you'd felt shitty for no reason. Then, you had thought it was something you ate. But now, you realize maybe that had been the universe's fucked up way of signaling to you that your brother was struggling to hang on to his last seconds of life.

You're also sure that you're angry. Angry at whatever bastard that murdered Jimin. And if it had happened in a way that Hoseok had so vividly colored in your imagination, you wish his murderer would die as painfully as he did. Revenge. Maybe that's what you want.

But you can't take vengeance all by yourself. You're just some average Korean-American young adult who's trying to please her parents who are back in her home country. You need help. And Jin had offered you help...

Those six boys are all you have left in this vast country.

But they're dangerous, another part of you argues. They're actually part of the mafia.

Your mind takes you back to the moment when Hoseok had so blatantly told you how your brother had been killed. He hadn't even flinched as he spoke such gruesome details that had made your skin crawl and breaths quicken. In fact, none of the boys had looked truly sad about your brother's death.

You fist your hair in frustration. I don't know what to do. You stare blankly at the portrait photo of you and Jimin with the other boys. Maybe staring at the inanimate Jimin will give you answers...?

You have no idea how long you've been staring and thinking when there's a soft knock on your door. Though the sound is nothing close to a disturbing racket, it is still a rude awakening to your thoughts.

You clear your throat before answering, "Yes?"

"May I come in?"

You recognize that voice as Jungkook's. Soft, curious and intuitive. "Yeah, sure," you say, making sure to wipe the residue of your tears away.

You can feel his presence, though your back is turned to him. He seems cautious, watchful as he slowly walks towards you. Finally, you turn around to face him. "What are you here for?"

Jungkook laughs quietly. He takes his leisure as he closes the window, and the room suddenly feels warm again. "Don't want you catching a cold," he mumbles, glancing at you before smiling cordially. "I'm here to escort you to dinner."

Right. Jin had told you about this.

It looks like Jungkook had changed his clothes. A more casual wear consisting of gray sweatpants and a hoodie. He looks like any normal guy you could find in America. It chills you that he's involved in a gang. Looks deceive.

"I don't have much of an appetite. Sorry," you say unapologetically. "I haven't made a decision either if that's what you want me to mention." Jungkook seems taken aback by your candidness, but you shrug. "May I please be alone? I need time..."

"I wasn't going to mention your decision," Jungkook says. He looks a bit sad you turned him down, but he begins to leave the room. "Just thought you'd be hungry... It's been more than six hours since you've come here."

"I know," you say. "I'm not hungry, though. I'm fine."

Jungkook nods dejectedly, "Alright. Have a nice night." He gives you a semi-worried look before he saunters away, closing your door lightly.

You breathe a sigh of relief when he's gone, releasing the tension you hadn't even known had built up in your shoulders. Sighing, you slump onto the ground, staring up at the high ceiling of the room. Maybe if you just think in silence, you'll know what to do.

You lose yourself in your mind until another knock on the door startles you.

"Y/N?"

God. That's Seokjin, this time.

"I told you I'm not hungry, Jin. If that's what you're here for."

You hear the door open, but you continue to stare up at the ceiling.

"Oh, Y/N..." you hear Jin sigh. He crouches down next to you, and you can suddenly feel his warmth by your side. "You're not hungry because of shock. But you should eat. Skipping meals shouldn't become a habit."

"I dunno," you mumble, turning your head over to look at Seokjin. "There's a part of me that doesn't want to leave this room. You knew it was Jimin's, and you gave it to me."

"I thought it would help with your thoughts..." Jin says. He puts a reassuring hand on top of yours. "Remember those days when we were younger? I just hope recalling the memories helped a little."

"Can't say it didn't."

"Good, good..." Jin trails off.

You finally sit up, staring curiously at the man. "Don't you miss him? Why is everyone acting like they don't? Aren't you guys the ones that had spent the six years I couldn't with him?" You're not angry, just confused.

"Of course I miss him, Y/N. We all do. We're all grieving inside, though we choose not to show it to those around us," Jin sighs. "I think we've all cried about Jimin's passing, Y/N. Some are more open about it than others..." He pauses. "We'd... Well, we'd like to share a meal with you. You know, make your time here worthwhile. A small dinner might not help the bad feelings go away completely, but it can help temporarily. All you need is a nice, refreshing drink and a hot, savory meal, Y/N. We'll be by your side. No one here is against you."

The way he says it makes everything sound so tantalizing, so believable, so obtainable. You should've known better. But then again, they're all you have.

You hesitate. Then: "I'll... I'll go to dinner."

Jin smiles, helping you up. "You won't regret it."

You're not in much of an ecstatic mood, obviously. You were beginning to regret agreeing to Jin's talented convincing until you see the dining room and momentarily forget half of your day's unfortunate events. Your jaw drops as you enter it and your eyes latch onto the shining chandeliers and crystal decorations.

"Wait 'til you see our kitchen," Seokjin chuckles.

You nod just to agree. It makes you just a tiny bit happier to think that your brother had lived in such a lavish place. At least he got to experience the good stuff...

You see the rest of your brother's friends standing around the large crystal dining table, each holding a glass of wine of their choice. It's a strange contrast between the luxuries of the room and the casual wear of the people in it. You'd expect to see them dressed in gold-trimmed tuxes and suits, but they're all in sweats—expensive sweats, granted, but sweats nevertheless. Seven dainty chairs surround the table, on which the food's already steaming on silver plates.

"Just in time!" Taehyung announces. "We were worried the food would get cold!"

"Oh," you mumble, nodding awkwardly before pulling out a random chair to sink into when—

"Excuse me, that happens to be Namjoon's seat."

Startled, you look up to see Jung Hoseok sighing and shaking his head. "Assigned seats, Y/N."

"Cut her some slack, Jung," Namjoon says. "She had no way of knowing. And if you can't tell, she needed convincing to be here, so you better play nice." He turns to you, smiling, though the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "You're welcome to sit in that spot if you'd like."

Already feeling quite out of place, you pause before replying, "No... Uh, I'll just... um, sit where my brother sat then..."

"Oh, that's next to me," Jungkook says, pulling your chair out for you as you sink in it gratefully. Looks like you're sandwiched between Namjoon and Jungkook. In front of you is Yoongi, across from you on the left is Taehyung, across on the right, Hoseok. And smack dab in the power seat of the table is Seokjin. It occurs to you that you're the only one sitting.

Awkwardly, you look over to Jin, who gives you another reassuring smile. "You may be seated."

Your eyes bulge slightly as the five other men take their seats as if they're heeding to Jin's commands.

What is this? A monarchy?

When Jin takes his seat, no one makes a move, you note. Your throat itches, begging for a drink of water or a sip of wine to calm your nerves, but you are not going to be the one who moves first. There's obviously some sort of crazy shit going on here, and you're going to tread lightly until you figure out what it really is.

Finally, finally, when Jin reaches forward to take a sip of his blood-red wine, conversations resume, breathing resumes and the eating and drinking commences.

You're shell-shocked. That's what you are. You're unable to move until Jungkook slides you a piece of filet mignon steak onto your plate.

"I remembered you loved that particularly," he says, before returning to his friendly conversation with Taehyung.

But your favorite meal—in all of its glorious scent—doesn't appeal to you today. So, you keep your ears open to listen to the conversations around you. Wondering how they can have conversations at a time like this...

Taehyung seems to be telling Jungkook about the cute chicks he saw while he was working at his restaurant. Your eyes widen as Taehyung makes a quite inappropriate gesture with his hands. And you nearly choke when you see Jungkook playing along with it.

"Get a hold of yourselves," Yoongi says disgustedly at them. "Y/N isn't blind or deaf, you know. Keep your sexual fantasies in your bedrooms."

Hoseok snorts. And even Seokjin seems to chuckle.

"Sorry," Jungkook mutters as Taehyung just rolls his eyes.

"It's hard when soo many hot, rich girls come to Seokjin's restaurant, you know?" Taehyung grins. "Even harder when they slip their numbers into your tip."

Jungkook giggles. "That's real smooth of them."

"I know! I can't help that I'm so hot," Taehyung laughs. He laughs even harder when he sees Namjoon's disgusted face. "Face it Joon. Being a lawyer sucks, doesn't it? No girls to hit on... Just old farts in court."

Namjoon just sighs, sipping his wine. "You know what? Taehyung? It is quite a shitty job. My stress levels strike the roof whenever the topic of my career emerges. Go get me some vodka."

Taehyung looks offended that his joke had turned into a chore for him to do. He sighs, shaking his head, muttering something on the lines of "can't take a fucking joke." Before he leaves, he calls out, "Anyone else wants another drink?"

"Coke and rum for me," Hoseok quickly answers.

"Tonic and gin," Yoongi says.

"The usual," Seokjin calls. When Taehyung scrunches his face in confusion, he sighs. "Grapefruit soda and tequila."

"Right," Taehyung replies. "Y/N?" he asks. "Pick your poison if you'd like."

You jump at the sudden mention of your name. "I dunno..."

"Maybe something strong?" Taehyung suggests. "You know, to help..."

"Right... Something strong."

Taehyung grins. "I'll see what I can do."

"Get me some gin and lemonade, pretty please," Jungkook laughs.

Taehyung gives him a disdainful look. "If you want it, come help me in the kitchen, bitch."

Jungkook grumbles but he complies, following Taehyung and disappearing behind a corner in which you assume the kitchen lies.

"They might 'accidentally' poison our drinks for all we know," Namjoon sighs, shaking his head. "I trusted Jimin more when he handled our drinks. He is... was the best bartender in the city," Namjoon smiles. "God, his concoctions were literally unmatched."

For some reason, what he says makes you feel even more empty inside. "I can imagine," you force out.

You hate this. You shouldn't have come. You're uncomfortable, placed in the middle of a group of friends that have no respect for your grief. Now there's an awkward silence at the table with Taehyung and Jungkook gone, but you make no move to fix it.

"So, Y/N! I saw you looking at our interior design, earlier!" Namjoon says, clapping his hands together.

God, not the small talk, again.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," you say, half-heartedly. Maybe you should come up with an excuse to leave. Maybe you should feign sickness—you already feel queasy, anyway.

"Eh, I don't really like it," Hoseok says. "It was like this when we bought it. I never liked all this bright crystal action going on, but it'll have to do."

"Right?" Yoongi agrees. "I wanted a more modern home. This seems so regal."

"It's not like we can move, though," Namjoon sighs. He hastily adds, "It'd take too long, and we wouldn't appreciate the hassle."

"We should be thankful for what we have," Seokjin says kindly. "Not many young adults are able to live in such luxury."

"Of course. If it's a good year, our total legal annual income in this household well surpasses four million."

You cock your head. Legal? Had you heard that right? Did that mean they had an illegal income? You speak before you can stop yourself. "Wait—"

"Here come the drinks!" Taehyung enthusiastically sings as he sashays in the dining room with a silver platter full of pretty glasses. Straight away he hands Jin his tequila concoction, then Namjoon his vodka, Yoongi his gin and Hoseok his rum. Jungkook slides into his seat with his gin and lemonade in hand.

Taehyung slides up next to you, holding up a tall glass of—

"Water?" You scrunch your eyebrows, looking wearily at the clear glass.

"Everclear," Taehyung answers. "It's illegal in California, but we've got some connections." He winks at you.

"Careful. That's 95 percent alcohol," Yoongi says. "You don't want to wake up in the hospital now, do we?"

"I'm sure one glass will be fine," Taehyung says, handing you the glass before sliding into his seat. "I trust Y/N is able to drink responsibly. Isn't that right, Y/N?"

You hum quietly, staring at the clear liquid blankly. Would too much of it kill you? But if you did die, it wouldn't matter at this point, right?

Taehyung laughs and he reads your mind as he replies, "I'd be killed if I gave you something that could kill you."

Right. A hard dose of alcohol is what you need especially after today.

One second you're semi-complaining that you're unemployed and single. Then suddenly karma bitches at you and your brother's dead, joined a gang and made enemies that had decided to brutally murder him. And now you have to decide whether you want to join the mafia or be left alone to be killed by the same entity that killed your brother. All in one day.

Even the thought makes you scoff.

So when Seokjin proposes a toast to you and talks off in tangents of what comprises of a short speech, you can't help but tune out. After the clink of glasses, you down the eponymous liquid that's actually ever so clear.

It burns your throat in all the wrong ways, but bottoms up, you finish it all.

After that, everything is hazy. The itch in your throat does not go away, and the room seems to spin around. Damn that drink is strong.

"Someone have her back before she collapses," you hear Yoongi say.

But you're able to stomach it in, head lolling uselessly to the side as you stare dumbly into oblivion. Your thoughts are muddled, thank god, which is all that mattered.

"Taehyung, I swear. Everclear shouldn't be taken plain. It's supposed to be drunk with a mixer for god's sake," Namjoon sighs. "Now it's your responsibility to get her to her room."

"That's going to be hard, considering she can probably barely walk right now," Hoseok says. "Jungkook should go too."

"Don't try anything on her," Namjoon sighs.

Taehyung looks offended. "What? Why would we? She's halfway gone. We wouldn't stoop that low."

"Yeah..." Jungkook says. "That's too low."

"You guys should get going while she's conscious..." Yoongi says. "She looks like she's going to pass out any second now."

"Why did you even think of giving her Everclear?" Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"She asked for it! She wanted a strong drink! I only did what she asked," Taehyung says, raising his voice.

"Let's not argue," Seokjin cuts in. "The hangover will definitely be bad... But her worries aren't with her at this moment. Don't give her a headache by yelling over each other. We'll have to cut dinner short. Taehyung, Jungkook, get Y/N to her room. Give her a few glasses of water before she blacks out. Hoseok, Yoongi? Looks like you two are on kitchen duty tonight."

"What?" Hoseok whines. "That's never our job!"

But one look from Jin has him quiet.

"I just hope she doesn't wake up with a giant hangover..." someone says. You can't tell who. You're mixing voices up in your head and your vision is blurry.

"You're kidding right?" another voice counters. "Everclear hangovers are the fucking worst."

It's the last thing you hear before everything becomes black.

—next chapter

—masterpost

—masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #ot7 #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #mafia au #over the moon #otm

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bexterbex · 4 years

Text

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 26

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 26: Reconditioning and Lack of Information

Lieutenant Mitaka informed you that it was time to go, so you put your laptop away and headed to the hangar. Surprisingly it was not General Pryde waiting for you this morning it was Allegiant General Hux. “Good morning m’lady I will be joining you at the Health Committee today,” he said collapsing his hands behind his back following you into the shuttle.

“Is there a reason why General Pryde isn’t here,” you ask.

“The Supreme Leader thought it was best that his best general would join you today,” replied Hux while strapping himself in.

You received a message on your phone from Kylo, ‘Good morning. I look forward to having dinner with you tonight. It is my wish that you will have a better day today.’

You look back up at the general, “So what you’re saying is someone informed the Supreme Leader to what happened at dinner last night.”

The general lifted his chin and with a neutral face said, “It is my duty to make sure that any time you are not with the Supreme Leader that you are comfortable. Last night you were not comfortable and so I justly informed him of this. In our morning meeting, he informed me that I am to escort you today and that General Pryde is to remain on board the ship this morning. He also believes that some of the next few health committee meetings you will need proper assistance as the health officials from your planet have stepped down. I am also the most informed person as to where your education on the First Order is thus far.”

You shook your head slightly at this. So you were being watched by Hux, he was informing Kylo about you, seemingly behind your back. But why would your education come into play? You were discussing your planet, not the First Order. You just hummed in response. Your mood was not better, in fact, it soured from when you woke up this morning.

You arrived at the White House and entered the meeting room. All of the doctors and nurses seemed to sit up straighter in the presence of General Hux.

“Allegiant General Hux, it is an honor to have you join us for this morning’s meeting,” said Dr. Koroban.

“Thank you, Dr. Koroban. I will be assisting Lady Ren in the negotiations as we are now without help from her own planet. General Pryde will remain on board the Steadfast for the time being,” replied Hux who sat next to you, whereas General Pryde normally sat opposite of you.

“On our agenda today I believe it is best to start with the topic of exercise,” said Dr. Koroban.

“As we have discussed in the past there are many ‘first world’ countries that do not take care of themselves health-wise as they should. There is a large population that has a sedentary lifestyle. I believe your planet m’lady uses the term office jobs,” said Dr. Dabrini.

“Yes, currently it is recommended that people receive at least 30 minutes of exercise a day and at least 10,000 steps,” you reply.

“One course of action that we may want to debate is broadcasting morning exercise videos to the citizens. Nothing too strenuous, something like light aerobics. Stretching and basic exercises,” replied Dr. Dabrini.

“When you say broadcasted you do you mean something like public television? Because many local public stations in ‘first world’ countries already do something similar. Mostly for those who are of retirement age,” you ask.

“No m’lady broadcast as in mandatory. We do it on all First Order planets. We have found it to be very effective,” replied Dr. Dabrini.

You knew there were daily morale-boosting videos that were standard in First Order occupied planets, but you were not comfortable with something like this. Mandatory exercises for everyone on the planet? Flashbacks from world history popped into your head, specifically the topic of the Hitler Youth.

“You realize my planet has not been affected by the influence of the Empire like many of your other planets? Our people, for the most part, are used to their freedom or at least the ideals of freedom. While this might be something that some people might like, the majority of the planet will not stand for this invasion of privacy,” you respond.

An officer who you have noticed in the meetings but has never spoken up before says, “Privacy is something you give up for the good of the First Order m’lady. You only gain it back once you have served the First Order well enough. It is a privilege to be earned.”

You turned to look at the general trying to watch his face in response. “This isn’t something you have told me. You told me you give up personal desires. On this planet privacy isn’t a personal desire, it is viewed as a right.” His face revealed nothing, he just stared at the wall on the opposite side of the room.

The officer spoke again, “Allegiant General sir, was it not your father Commandant Brendol Hux who said, War is peace, Freedom is slavery, Ignorance is strength when talking about those who have not learned of the ways of the First Order?”

“Yes, it was,” responded Hux who now has looked over at the officer his face still neutral or rather emotionless.

“If the memo that was sent out this morning was correct, then 85 percent of Earth’s population has already been registered and subsequently has effectively been taking their education sources. And with the 9 percent predicted to register today and 4 percent tomorrow then the majority of this planet has given up on their privacy already. Making that argument invalid,” responded the officer.

Hux’s demeanor changed at this, “Lieutenant Rodinon need I remind you that this is Lady Ren’s planet that you are speaking of. While you have been born and raised in the First Order, she has not. If you wish to remain in your position I suggest you remember who you are speaking to.” The was heat in his voice but the lieutenant did not back down.

“So has she not been receiving the enlightenment materials? She would know this by now if she were. What use will she be to the First Order if she constantly questions our motives,” asked the lieutenant who seemed to want to fight with the general.

“She is being tutored by me, lieutenant. I should not have to tell you that the Supreme Leader has asked that she receives a different education than others on her planet. Afterall she will one day be the empress of our empire. Apparently, I need to remind you of that fact since you have seemingly ignored it in your debriefings. Captain Pyre,” called the general to your usual golden guard. Who entered the room with two other storm troopers guarding the now open door. “Please have one of your men escort Lieutenant Rodinon for reconditioning. Make sure they tell Colonel Datoo that he should not only review the ‘Character Guidance Program’ but also the memos regarding Lady Ren’s status.”

With this, you saw that there was fear laced in the lieutenant’s eyes as he was escorted by the armed stormtroopers out of the room. Still facing the general you asked, “do you care to explain what just happened?”

His face emotionless once more, except for the muscle that you could see straining in his jaw. “Dr. Koroban if you would excuse Lady Ren and myself for the moment. I ask that you do not resume this committee until instructed to do so, we should be back shortly.” With that he gestured for you to stand and follow him, you made your way down to the familiar red sitting room to which you two were left alone in.

With his hands behind his back, he began to pace while explaining, “It is under orders from the Supreme Leader that you do not receive the same enlightenment as the rest of your people. For many reasons, as you are to know more about the galaxy and the meaning behind the First Order that you will one day fully help run. And the civilian enlightenment program has some drawbacks once you have received the first 3 lessons.”

“What drawbacks exactly?” There was now a present irritable tone in your voice.

“They tend to make citizens more docile to the First Order presence. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, but the Supreme Leader has expressed the desire that he would not like that effect to happen to you.”

“So it is brainwashing them. You are brainwashing my planet into docile creatures. And Kylo approved this!”

At the mention of Kylo’s name, you saw one of the general’s eyebrows minutely raise. “We are not brainwashing them m’lady we are merely enlightening them to the path of order. They see how the First Order can help them and they accept it.”

You shook your head. “I don’t believe you. And he wants me to be not docile, but yet complicit because I don’t know what’s happening to my own people!”

“M’lady I believe this is something he can explain to you best,” the general’s arms were now in front of him in an almost surrendering position.

“But what about the reconditioning that you sent the lieutenant to? What is reconditioning?” You could feel the anger building and yet dissipating within you.

“That is something of a requirement in our officer and enlisted core. As you could see the lieutenant was acting in a disrespectful manner towards me and yourself. It is merely a relearning of the rules and regulations that they seemed to forget or deemed to ignore. I can show you it sometime if you wish m’lady.”

Your anger still hadn’t fully dissipated, “You also said that I would be an empress. That I would one day run the First Order. I have no desire to do this. I did not sign up to rule a military regime let alone a galaxy!”

The general had fully paused and turned to face you. His hands were behind his back and a stern look on his face, “My lady I do not appreciate you undo criticism towards me. This is something you should discuss with the Supreme Leader if you have an issue, not myself. Might I suggest that we return to the meeting? We can switch up the topic to one you would rather discuss and leave any other topic until you have had a discussion with the Supreme Leader.”

You relented. He was still part of the problem, being a part of the First Order and all, but he was not who you were directly angry with. He was right, Kylo really hasn’t told you much as he rather preferred to leave that to someone else, like Hux. You nodded to him and followed him back to the conference room. You knew that Kylo would have some explaining to do tonight at dinner. For now, you tried to focus back on the task at hand.

“I believe we should change subjects for now. Lady Ren is there a topic you would like to discuss,” asked the general.

“The topic of sickness prevention. I think we should right now focus on the citizen and not any major procedural items.”

“So you would like a campaign again for citizens to see talking about the basics of sickness prevention, and not any policies that any institution would put in place. Is this correct m’lady,” asked Dr. Koroban.

“Yes, although it may need to be discussed. There is also the matter of sick leave time as many who are sick must return to work sooner than they would like for things like the common cold. But yes I think a campaign, like the one for hygiene, should be done to prevent contagious sicknesses.”

“Something along the lines of washing your hands, don’t touch your face, stay home when sick, and don’t share food or drink with others? Common sense items but things that should be readdressed,” asked Dr. Dabrini.

“Yes. These were all things I learned in school but upon entering the workforce it seems like it is something people have either forgotten or just ignore.”

“I can have Petty Officer Tanau look into that, you have already done so much m’lady,” said Dr. Koroban.

“That’s fine, but could she send me what she finds so I can review it before it gets sent to the Supremacy for final inspection?”

“Yes, Lady Ren. I think that would be most wise. I’ll let Lieutenant Mitaka know when it is done as to not to disturb you. But I think we should wrap up this meeting for today,” with that Dr. Koroban dismissed everyone.

“My lady would you like to join me and Admiral Frantis Griss for lunch in the officer’s lounge,” asked Hux.

“Only if you allow Lieutenant Mitaka to join us.”

The general made eye contact with the lieutenant and noded. You were then off back to the shuttle to take your lunch.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #kylo x you #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order #first order propaganda #a soul to mend his own #hold onto your butts its about to get more spicy #I hope you liked this chapter

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